Twist of Fate

by Faver, JD

  As her father slowly recovered, Helmut continued to offer support, but Sunny blindsided him one day by proposing marriage. She’d made it sound like a business proposition; a merger of sorts. She’d pointed out that they had much in common and that he would benefit financially by combining the farming operations. And she had offered herself as the willing incubator of Engle offspring.

  Helmut turned off the ignition and sat in his truck,

  recalling how embarrassed he’d been by her offer. He hadn’t wanted to hurt her feelings, but he had managed to let her know that he wasn’t interested in getting married anytime soon.

  He expelled a long breath. That was before he’d lost his heart to Mel Hannigan.

  #

  Damn! Mel breathed out a sigh. And I thought he looked great naked.

  Helmut was standing stock still in front of a three-way mirror. He looked magnificent in the St. Croix tuxedo.

  Solange was working around him, making minute adjustments and taking small tucks with her pins. She marked the hems of the pants and then removed the jacket carefully, laying it across her worktable.

  Helmut hadn’t taken his eyes off of Mel. He looked terrified of the small woman stewing and fretting around him.

  The white silk shirt contrasted with Helmut’s tanned skin. Solange took in some of the fabric with her pins, tapering it from under his powerful arms down to his trim waist.

  Mel smiled encouragement. A muscle in his jaw twitched. She wanted to tell him how glad she was that he was willing to come to the city.

  When she’d picked him up, he had been anxious. He had packed a few things in an old suitcase, but she couldn’t imagine that he owned anything remotely appropriate for the city. Thankfully, he was wearing a nice pair of polished western boots instead of the ones he used for work.

  He ran his finger around the collar of the shirt. “Mel,” he began. “I will pay for these clothes. It is not necessary for you to purchase them.”

  She gazed up at him. “Trust me. I’m not paying. I couldn’t afford them. You’re doing the designer a favor by wearing this to the opening.”

  He frowned, looking perplexed. “I do not understand. How can this be?”

  Solange took the pins out of her mouth and peered up at Helmut over the rims of her glasses. “When you are wearing St. Croix and looking so good in the garments, it makes others think they will look good in them too. You will be like a walking advertisement for the house of St. Croix.”

  Helmut nodded as though this made sense to him. He straightened his shoulders.

  “Now, give me the trousers. Be careful of the pins.” Solange held out her hands.

  Helmut glanced at Mel again and then unzipped the pants and stepped out of them.

  Mel was glad she’d thought to pick up a few pairs of silk boxers before the fitting. She reached up to help Helmut remove the monogrammed St. Croix platinum cufflinks and the studs from the front of the shirt. He had no idea of the value of this apparel and it was good that he didn’t.

  “Mel, why don’t you go into the showroom and select some casual wear for your friend here,” Solange said. “I’m thinking we might have some things he could wear.

  “I’ll be right back,” Mel said with a wink.

  She ignored the look of panic on Helmut’s face as she abandoned him in his nearly bare state with a strange woman. After a hurried raid in the showroom, Mel returned with an armload of St. Croix slacks, jeans, shirts and sweaters in size big.

  “Try these on,” she ordered.

  Helmut obediently slipped on the jeans. Only one pair in his length and the waist was too big.

  “Give them to me now.” Solange wrested the pants away and took them to her industrial sewing machine. When she brought them back to him, they fit like they were made for him, clinging to his muscular thighs and adorable butt. “I’ll get a belt for him and the tucks will never show.”

  Helmut frowned down at Solange. “Are they supposed to be this tight?”

  “They look perfect,” Mel assured him. Don’t worry.

  They’ll loosen up as you break them in.” She handed him a fine white cotton shirt with short sleeves, to compliment his skin tone and to show off his great biceps.

  He dutifully donned it and was tucking the shirt tail in when Solange returned with an ostrich-skin belt. He heaved a sigh and threaded it through the belt loops.

  Mel and Solange stood side-by-side, grinning at him. Mel passed him a baby blue cashmere cardigan and he slipped it on.

  “Or you could just toss it around your shoulders,” Solange said.

  Helmut gave her a sharp look. “Why would I do that?”

  Solange shrugged. “Just for the effect.”

  The muscle twitched again in his jaw.

  #

  “This is where you live?” Helmut followed her into the elevator, carrying his battered suitcase and the bags of casual wear from St. Croix Showroom.

  Mel adjusted the bag of take-out food from the Chinese deli and pushed the button for the eighteenth floor. “Just a place to hang my hat.”

  “I have never seen you wear a hat.”

  “That’s an expression. Don’t worry about it.”

  The doors opened and she led him down the hall to her apartment. “This is it. Make yourself at home.”

  Helmut followed her inside, gazing around. He seemed to be taking in every little detail of her environment. She realized that everything looked smaller compared to Helmut.

  She set the take-out on the counter and showed Helmut where to put his bags. She led him into her bedroom and held her breath as he gazed around the room.

  The baby blue cardigan set off his sun-streaked blonde hair and warm tan, but when his blue-eyed gaze settled on Mel, her breath caught in her throat. Great works of art affected her in that way.

  “Just put your bag down and let me have your hanging things.” She opened her walk-in closet and made room for Helmut’s new St. Croix casual ware on hangers. She had assisted Helmut in selecting shiny patent leather slip-ons to go with the formalwear, insisting that boots, no matter how wonderful, were just not the right accessory for the St. Croix tuxedo.

  “This is a room just for your clothing?” He spread his hands. “You wear all of these things?”

  “Well, actually, it’s a closet.” She turned around twice and took a breath. “Not all at once. I’m sure I should donate half this stuff, but I haven’t had time to sort through them.” She stepped into the adjoining bathroom. “Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll put the food on the table.”

  He nodded slowly, staring at the shiny surfaces. Catching sight of himself in the mirror, he frowned. “I look,” he paused. “Different.”

  Mel felt a rush of warmth swirl through her chest. She slipped her arms around his waist and delivered a fierce hug against his backside. “No, you don’t. You’re still Helmut. You’re just wearing different clothes.”

  He stroked his hand over the cashmere sweater and stared at her image in the mirror. “But you like these clothes better?”

  “I like you naked best of all.”

  #

  Helmut followed Mel through her apartment. The rooms were small and her furniture was small, but Mel was small so it suited her.

  When he expressed this sentiment, she raised her brows and gazed at him for a moment. “Helmut, I’m not small. I’m almost five foot six and that’s not particularly small for a woman.” She brought plates and set them on a low table by the sofa. “I don’t have a dining room, as such. I usually eat at the counter or here on the coffee table.”

  The coffee table. For coffee table books. He wondered briefly why people would need a specific table for coffee, but assumed that it was a city contrivance and that coffee table books had something to do with them.

  “Sit down on the loveseat and I’ll bring you something to drink.”

  He sat down on the small sofa, wondering if she would think him an idiot if he asked why it was called a loveseat. He thought b
etter of it and smiled at her as she brought him a small cup of hot tea.

  “It’s jasmine tea. It goes well with Chinese and I brought you a fork.” She placed it in his hand, but opened a paper wrapper and took out a pair of chopsticks for herself.

  He’d never seen anyone use them before, but Mel seemed proficient as she scooped out food onto both their plates. She handed him several plastic packets telling him they contained a plum sauce and Chinese mustard.

  “This is Lemon Chicken and that’s Pepper Beef and Shrimp Lo Mein.” She scooted two crispy-looking fried wrapped things onto his plate. “Egg roll. You’ve eaten egg roll before.”

  She sounded so certain that he nodded his head, not wanting to disappoint her. He watched her squish the packets of sauces onto her plate and dip the egg roll into the mixture before biting into it.

  He tried to emulate her and bit into his. The spicy mustard seared his tongue and roiled up into his sinuses. He reached for the cup of tea and gulped the too-hot liquid, swallowing the fiery mouthful unchewed. Now his nose was running. He used a couple of the small paper napkins to staunch the flow before making another try at eating the strange food, this time carefully avoiding the Chinese mustard.

  The meal was less satisfying than eating a salad without a main course. Helmut’s stomach churned and he still felt hungry.

  “I’m really pleased that you found a way to be with me for the opening,” she said. “It means a lot to me to have you there.”

  “What will happen tomorrow night at this opening?”

  She shrugged, glanced up to meet his gaze. “I hope that a lot of people will show up and I hope that I get some good reviews.” She poked a bite of Lemon Chicken in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “And I hope that you’ll see what I do for a living and think my work is good.”

  He stared at her, her expression setting fire to something in his chest. “And it matters to you what I think?”

  She swept him with a look from under her long, dark lashes. “It matters to me.”

  After the meal, Mel switched on her flat-screen television and snuggled against him as they watched a Hockey game. The Nicks were playing and Helmut could relate to the game, having played when he was younger and having watched the sport on television in his college dorm.

  Mel disappeared toward the end of the game and when it was over, she reappeared wearing a short blue terry-cloth robe. She grinned at him. “I was going to take a bath and wondered if you might like to join me.”

  Helmut stood up. “I will join you.”

  In Mel’s bathroom, a large corner tub was bubbling like a stew pot. Scented candles flickered on the countertop and she had turned the lighting down low.

  Mel turned to Helmut and began undressing him, starting with the buttons on his shirt. She carefully arranged the items as she removed them; stripping the belt from his new jeans before peeling them down his legs. He had to remove his own boots and was down to the silky boxers when she dropped the blue robe and splayed her fingers on his chest. “I really like having you here with me.” Her soft breasts melted his flesh as she leaned against him.

  Looking down into her green eyes, he had to agree. It was worth it, having a strange little woman fit uncomfortable clothes on him; eating less than appetizing food and being away from his farm for a few anxious days. Just seeing her look so happy and knowing that she wanted him to be with her was enough to make up for any minor inconvenience.

  Mel’s hands stroked the silky fabric of his boxers and brought him to an even more aroused state. She slipped them over his hips and squatted down for him to step out of them.

  Seeing her kneeling at his feet brought a huge wave of lust to his groin. Helmut lifted her in his arms and stepped toward the bubbling tub. “I am taking you to the bath now.”

  She slipped her arms around his neck and brushed kisses across his collarbone. “When I’ve had a hard day, this is what I do in the evening to relax.”

  He stepped into the tub, the water frothing around his calves, and carefully lowered himself with Mel still in his arms.

  “Lean back. Relax,” she said. “Let me bathe you.”

  Helmut reclined against the rounded corner and rested his arms along the sides.

  She took a soft sponge, squirted a sweet-smelling bath gel onto it and began to cleanse his chest and arms. She knelt between his thighs, gazing into his eyes as she abraded his chest with the sponge. Her fingertips grazed the area she had just lathered, stroked the growth of hair and tweaked his nipples.

  Helmut chuckled. Mel was having fun arousing him, but she had no idea that she didn’t have to work so hard. All she had to do was be near him, look at him, allow him to touch her.

  Capturing some of the gel from his arms, he massaged it onto the smooth skin of her backside. Tenderly, he cupped his palms around her bottom, kneaded her perfect little ass.

  She leaned against him to reach his back. She scrubbed the sponge over his shoulders and then rinsed off the suds.

  Helmut embraced her, kissed her breasts and took each nipple into his mouth to suckle, first one and then the other. He delighted in the feel of her nipples tightening against his tongue.

  Mel laced her fingers in his hair and exhaled, her breath cool against his damp skin.

  His fingers strayed into the creases and folds between her legs. She arched against him and opened her legs wider to allow him access. He rubbed his thumb into her slit, located her nub and caressed it. Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she made a low moaning noise in her throat.

  “Oh, Helmut,” she breathed. She found his mouth and trailed her tongue against his lips.

  He held the back of her head, holding her still. He took her tongue into his mouth and stroked it as his fingers stroked her into a state of arousal. He felt her tremble against him.

  “The bath is over.” He cupped his hand and poured water over her shoulders, then stood up and reached for a towel “Komen zie.” He pulled her to her feet and wrapped the towel around her before carrying her to her bed.

  #

  CHAPTER SIX

  Mel was nervous. She had butterflies in her stomach and in her chest and in her throat. She glanced at Helmut. He looked calm. She figured that was because he didn’t know what he was in for.

  Mel had hired a limo to transport them to the opening and to whisk them to the party afterward. Helmut lounged beside her, holding her hand against his thigh.

  I must be totally crazy. She heaved a sigh. He might hate her before the night was over, but at least she would have given it a shot. She felt sure this was the only way to find a common ground with Helmut. If they were in the same business, he might consider staying in the city. If the payoff was big enough. And she would have him in her life. She squeezed his thigh, kneading the sinewy muscles.

  He kissed her temple. “Do not be afraid, Mel.”

  She managed a smile. “I just want this evening to go well. I hope you like my work.”

  “Are your friends going to be there?”

  She nodded. “Friends and business acquaintances.”

  “I hope that your friends approve of me.” He stroked her hand.

  Not a problem. “I hope that you approve of my friends.”

  His clear blue eyes seemed to be gazing into her soul. When the limo driver stopped the vehicle in front of the gallery and held the door open, Mel took a deep breath. She reached for the driver’s outstretched hand and climbed out, turning to Helmut as he followed her.

  He looked so beautiful in his perfectly fitted tux, it made her chest ache. She leaned up and offered her lips for a kiss. “Thank you for being here with me.”

  “I am happy that you want me with you.” He brushed a kiss against her lips and followed her up the granite steps of the brightly lit gallery.

  A sea of affluent humans milled about in the main room of the gallery when they entered. She had planned their arrival when she knew the crowd would have gathered and the photographer from the Times would be there. She
stood in the arched entrance wearing her silver floor-length sheath, with a slit up one side and Helmut as her backdrop. A wave of panic seized her gut. She felt faint as the crowd burst into applause and the cameras flashed. Helmut’s hand at her waist gave her the courage to smile graciously.

  Alain, standing in a group of admirers, stared open-mouthed at the blonde Adonis wearing his tuxedo. Slowly he shook his head, grinning and applauding.

  “Oh, my God!” ZiZi shrieked. She made a beeline for Mel and gave her air kisses. “How gorgeous!”

  Mel knew ZiZi wasn’t talking about her.

  “Over here, Mel.” The Times photographer motioned her into the room. She posed with Helmut in front of one of her enlargements.

  “It’s him!” a woman’s voice rose above the crowd noise. “He’s the guy!”

  Helmut glanced around, then down at Mel.

  “It’s your photograph. I put you in the show. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

  He frowned momentarily and then his brow cleared. “Of course, I am not mad at you, Mel. I could never be angry with you.”

  She hoped this held true. “Come and see how your photographs turned out.” She held his hand, leading him to the other side of a large, free standing room divider. He stood in front of the picture she had taken of him leading the white horse, gazing back at her over his shoulder. The wind blew tendrils of his hair and the blue of his eyes riveted the viewer’s attention.

  Mel glanced up at Helmut. “Do you like it?”

  He looked embarrassed, at the attention, but smiled at her and nodded. “Very nice.”

  She turned him to look at the sweet picture of him in profile crouching to stroke the cat. He nodded again.

  Mel took a deep breath and turned him to the back wall. There, his well-lit likeness dominated the entire room. It was six feet square and she’d rendered it in black and white. The nuance of tone made the photograph look like a fine charcoal drawing. A spill of natural light caught the planes of his face and highlighted his hair. His ideal body stretched on the diagonal, his face beautiful in sleep, his well-endowed manhood outlined under the sheet.