Two Weeks in Geneva

by Lydia Rowan

  Alexander cleared his throat, and her gaze swung to him. She widened her eyes and tilted her head silently saying, Anytime now.

  He nodded and rose. “I shall return shortly. Then we go through the presentation again. Thoroughly.”

  ••••

  Alexander felt his confidence rise from the piteous state it had been in yesterday. Figuring he’d give her a few minutes alone, he walked to his own office and asked his assistant to take Quinn the items she had requested. When he’d sent the e-mail to her superiors yesterday, it hadn’t been based on confidence, but on the assurance that more involvement from ARc would be less helpful, not more. He, and to some extent Quinn, would have to pull this off. The presentation was still in a shambles, but these hours with Quinn had heartened him. She had command of the material, but he knew the board would take a lot of convincing.

  He headed back to the conference room and found Quinn fiddling with her laptop. He watched for a moment, distracted from the deal, from everything really, by her. She was so attractive, becoming even more so as they spent time together, and he felt that irritating stir of arousal.

  “I apologize for not escorting you into the hotel last night,” he said.

  She started and then tentatively smiled. “That’s fine. And thanks.” She indicated the plug and coffee. “Are you ready to start again?”

  Apparently Quinn was all business, so he pushed his burgeoning arousal aside and refocused.

  “Yes. Let’s start with the presentation…”

  They kept at it for hours, with precious few breaks and a hastily consumed lunch, but the results were still less than stellar.

  “Enough,” she said finally, her voice as firm as he’d ever heard it and her eyes flashing with impatience. She stood and begin wandering around the conference room, her languid, measured steps a sharp contrast with the tension in her shoulders and the discontent in her eyes.

  “We’ve gone over this, Alexander. A hundred times, a thousand—”

  “And we will go over it a million times more if that what it takes to get it right. Now do it again,” he said in a low tone. His patience was wearing thin as well, and he had no time or inclination to coddle Quinn, or anyone else for that matter. This was too important to leave to chance, and if feelings were ruffled, well, he could live with that. He leaned back and closed his eyes, prepared to listen to Quinn present the facts and figures he knew by heart.

  “No.”

  The word hit with the shock of a bucket of ice water, and he sat up and looked at her. The tense set of her mouth, the way she stood with arms crossed and legs shoulder-width apart made it clear that she was serious. Alexander narrowed his eyes, ready to launch into an attack, but her flash of temper made him reconsider. Quinn had, so far at least, been a fairly malleable and compliant participant, spending hours endlessly reviewing the presentation, explaining and re-explaining arcane details about ARc-light’s business, U.S. practices and regulations, and what set ARc apart from other firms, be they U.S. or international, all without complaint. He knew how key this investment was to her company and had seen firsthand how committed she was to securing it. But it seemed she’d reached her limit.

  “Quinn,” he said, his voice a little rougher than he’d intended. “Quinn,” he said again, softer this time, trying for a more friendly approach. “There’s no room for error. The presentation has to be perfect or the board won’t approve it. And then your company will die. So let’s go again.”

  “No,” she said, this time a little softer as well, her stance incrementally relaxing.

  Sighing, he jumped up from his chair and also began pacing the room as he loosened his tie. An unexpected but entirely pleasant image of binding Quinn’s hands with that tie, of having her at his mercy to touch and tease and fuck until the tension in her mouth and shoulders was gone flashed through his mind. Now was definitely not the time, but he indulged the image for a moment, felt himself hardening as he envisioned her luscious curves exposed to him, running his hands over her brown skin, skin that he knew would be soft to the touch, imagining how she’d moan as he plunged into her, the way her flesh would bounce against his as he thrust…

  “Alexander, are you listening?”

  “What?” he said reluctantly, returning his attention to the still-angry woman standing before him.

  “I said level with me.” Her eyes softened and she walked around the table, tentatively reaching out to touch his hand. The simple, innocent contact only stoked the fire that had started to burn inside him, and only through the sheer force of all of the determination he could muster was he able to resist kissing her.

  “About what?” He knew he sounded foolish, but he was having trouble transitioning from his very impure thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  “This is important to us, critical in fact. But what about you? I mean, I can tell you and the board everything there is to know about ARc, including what we serve at the annual picnic, but none of that matters if I can’t explain why this makes sense. So why? Why do you want to do this?”

  He words gave him the focus he needed, and he took a couple of steps back and looked away from her, fiddling with papers stacked on the conference room table in hopes of keeping his mind off her, something he was discovering was quite difficult when she was touching him.

  “Do you know what my company does?” he asked.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod and reach toward one of the presentations that had been printed out.

  “Generally, yes. You’re primarily a design and architectural firm, but you’ve dabbled in other stuff like mass construction and some real-estate-related financial services, though not exactly full-scale banking. Which makes me wonder. I mean, our companies are so divergent…”

  He cut her off with a raised hand, and he smiled slightly at her little chuckle, amazed to find her tendency to chatter about business endearing even in these tense circumstances.

  “That’s right. My grandfather came to Switzerland from France after the War and built the business. It hasn’t been under exclusive family control for many years, but I’m still proud of the name and what we do. There have been bumps and bubbles since the company’s inception, but this last recession almost devastated us.”

  He looked at Quinn, wondered if she knew how difficult it was to say out loud what he’d kept inside for so long.

  “Yes, same here. It was tough on everybody.”

  Tough, that was an understatement. One day, MI was one of Europe’s preeminent institutions built up from the ground to a multibillion-dollar company, and the next, it was on the brink of collapse, his legacy, his family’s legacy to say nothing of the thousands of employees and investors hanging in the balance.

  “We almost lost everything. And on my watch.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alexander had long ago accepted that his negligence, his failure to manage and keep an eye on everything, make sure they stuck to the principals his grandfather had believed in, had almost sunk them all.

  “I was wary of growing the company too big, too fast and stepping outside of our expertise. I had even raised some token resistance, but I didn’t insist. The returns were great, profits were through the roof, and I was content to ‘roll in the dough’ as you Americans say.”

  “That’s hindsight, Alexander. I mean, we got too dependent on one client, a firm that built apartment complexes and when they went belly up, we almost went with them.” She shrugged. “Sad as it is, our stories aren’t unique, and we, you especially, are doing a lot better than most so I guess I still don’t understand the urgency or why this deal is so important.”

  “Because, Quinn, we’re not out of the woods yet, and while our business might fail, it won’t be because of my complacency. I won’t ever allow us to be so vulnerable again and this deal is the first step. Things are getting better now, true. Not perfect, not by a long shot, but better, and the board is forgetting what happened. They see this investment as a was
te of money and I see it as the key to our future. If we can do this successfully, we’re one step closer to getting back to what we used to be, back to what we’re good at, far less likely to be so stupid as to try to chase the easy money and making ourselves vulnerable in the process.”

  She nodded, and he could see the understanding in her eyes.

  “Same here. We have the expertise, but no money, so we don’t have the staff and resources to take on big projects, but if we don’t take them now, while the market is heating up, we’ll never have the staff or the money to do it. This would be the perfect marriage, Alexander.” Excitement shone in her eyes. “You have the money, we have the skills. Put us together,” she intertwined her fingers, “and we’re unstoppable.”

  “That’s the idea, anyway. You’ll give us a foot into America, particularly the environmentally conscious construction, and who knows where it can go?”

  “So that’s our pitch.” She smiled at him, bright and blinding, the clouds in her eyes totally lifted, and he couldn’t help but smile back in return.

  “Gosh, why didn’t you just say all this earlier? All that cloak and dagger at the airport and being such a meanie the last couple of days.” She rolled her eyes. “I could have been touring Geneva.”

  A spark of an idea formed in his head, but he pushed it away for the moment.

  “You get more coffee, and I’ll start sketching out options.”

  “I usually have people do this for me, you know?” he teased, leavened by the relief he felt.

  “Not today. Now hurry back. We have an idea, but there’s work to do yet. Chop, chop,” she said with clap.

  Her laughter followed him out of the conference room.

  Chapter Four

  The presentation had been a rousing success.

  Or at least she’d assumed so. Other than her portion, the rest of the meeting had been entirely in Swiss-French and German, so she wasn’t sure what had actually been said during most of it, but Alexander’s triumphant grin, as open and broad as any she’d seen on his lips, made it clear that all was well.

  They’d succeeded.

  Quinn stood in the conference room amidst the meeting’s other attendees smiling widely, but the relief that flooded her at the thought of having a hand in saving ARc was somewhat tempered. She’d expected to feel exhilarated but in reality, while she was undeniably happy, there was a restlessness she hadn’t anticipated. Deciding she probably just needed rest after the emotionally and intellectually grueling week, she slipped out of the room discreetly, intending to head down to the lobby and walk back to the hotel. As she waited at the elevator doors, she felt someone approach and knew it was him. She’d felt that awareness since that first day at the airport and it had only intensified since. Now, even without directly seeing him, she was attuned to his presence, drawn to him as a moth to a flame, aware of him always.

  For reasons she couldn’t ascertain and wasn’t too keen on exploring, she was suddenly reluctant to look at him, though a small part of mind whispered a worry that she’d gotten attached, that he’d somehow made his way past the walls she’d endeavored to erect. He stood beside her for a moment, heat and the masculine scent that was uniquely his rolling off him in waves, the combined onslaught making her want to wrap her arms around him and bury her nose in his chest, be enveloped in that heat and scent. She settled for a furtive glance over at him, but quickly looked away when she saw his gaze was trained on her and swirling with something beyond the professional respect and exasperation that had been so a part of his expressions this week.

  Finally, after several more excruciatingly long moments that sent arousal spiking through her blood and gave her too much time to conjure all the ways he could take her, the elevator dinged and for the second time that day, relief flooded her. She stepped on and was about to wave good-bye, but he surprised her by getting on as well.

  “Going down?” she said lamely.

  He cleared his throat, suddenly looking less than absolutely confident, which was a relatively rare occurrence, at least in her experiences with him thus far.

  “Thank you, Quinn. I could not have convinced them without your help.”

  Sincerity now burned clear in his eyes and it warmed her to a degree that she found uncomfortable.

  “You’re welcome. As you said, we both needed this and I’m glad we pulled it out.”

  His brows furrowed. “‘Pulled it out.’ What does this mean?”

  “Oh, sorry. We came through and won in the end.”

  He smiled bright. “I’ll have to remember these phrases in case I end up in America.”

  “Don’t worry. You wouldn’t have any trouble finding a willing tutor.”

  The words were low, husky, suggestive, and not at all what she’d intended. She giggled in an attempt to cover the implication, but his quick grin left no doubt that he’d heard the innuendo as well. She looked away, wondering how much more she’d embarrass herself during this seemingly interminable elevator ride.

  “Have dinner with me.”

  Her gaze snapped back to him at his words.

  “Why?”

  “It’s the least I can do to express my gratitude.”

  “Oh, okay. Sure.”

  For a moment there, she wondered if he had some other motive, if that gleam in his eye was significant, but decided it was just her imagination. No way a gorgeous specimen like Alexander would be interested in her, but a simple meal between colleagues was in the realm of possibility. Finally, after what felt like a hundred years, the elevator dinged notice that they’d arrived at the lobby.

  “You ready?”

  “Lead the way.”

  She smiled brightly as they exited the lobby.

  ••••

  “Do you mind if we walk? And are you okay to walk with that bag?” Alexander asked.

  “I’d love to,” she said, her gaze on messenger bag that contained her computer and accessories. “And I’m fine. Other than the short walks from the hotel, I’ve only seen the city from the backseat of your car and I want to change that,” she said as she began looking around at the streets and people that they passed.

  Alexander still didn’t quite know why he’d asked her to dinner. He was excited about the successful meeting and the prospect of expanding the company, very excited in fact, but he had any number of friends he could call to celebrate with, and any number of women who could satisfy the sexual hunger that had been thrumming through him for the last couple of days. But none of them, he acknowledged, had Quinn’s sinful curves, curves that she never flaunted or put on display, but that still promised endless exploration and delight. Nor did they have her open, expressive eyes, which flashed from happy, to mad, to curious, all without guile or calculation, something he found a refreshing departure from the ironic detachment that permeated his world.

  Maybe that was the answer, simple as it was. Maybe he found her refreshing and just wasn’t ready to say good-bye.

  “Where are we headed?” she asked.

  “Well, I suppose that should be lady’s choice. There are many fine establishments along the Rues Basses.

  “Like white-tablecloth stuff?”

  He nodded.

  “Next option,” she said with a dismissive wave.

  “French peasant food.”

  As they stopped at an intersection, she said, “I hadn’t realized French peasant food was different than just regular French food.”

  He smiled, excited to share something of his culture with her. “Then you are in for both an education and a treat.”

  As they walked, he tried to see the city through her eyes that seemed to take in everything, the cobblestone streets, mix of ancient stone buildings and newer developments, even rows of cyclists mixed in with the vehicle traffic. As they walked, the streets changed, the hustle of cars and sharply dressed businessmen falling away to quieter, family blocks with old grandmothers and little kids crowding the blocks and stoops.

  They finally stopped
under a discreetly hung wooden sign that proclaimed TURENNE, and Quinn said, “You wouldn’t even know this was here if you didn’t know it was here. How exciting!”

  He called out a greeting to a woman who appeared to be an employee as he led her over to a quieter corner and helped her get settled.

  “Be warned,” she said. “I’m going to need your help. I only know one French word, and that word is duck.”

  He laughed. “Why do you know that word?”

  “There was some kid’s show on at the hotel, and they were learning how to spell it. C-a-n-a-r-d, quack, quack,” she singsonged in perfect imitation.

  He laughed again. “Your French is perlé. Impeccable,” he said at her questioning raised brow.

  “Yay, now I know two!”

  They shared another laugh before he asked, “Is there anything you don’t like?”

  “Obviously not,” she said with a gesture toward herself, her smile still beaming.

  Not caring for the tone of her words, he shot her what he hoped was a withering glare.

  “Uhm, well, I don’t usually like fish, but anything else is fine.”

  He waved over the waitress and ordered food and a bottle wine while she fiddled with her napkin and looked everywhere but at him.

  “Do you like wine?”

  “For the most part, no.”

  “They have a saying here: the only people who don’t like wine are those who’ve never had good wine.”

  “That’s probably me. But when am I ever going to have another chance to drink wine in Europe? So carpe diem and all that.”

  The owner returned with the bottle, and he poured two glasses of the rich, dark burgundy liquid.

  “What shall we toast to?”

  She held her bottom lip between her teeth as she considered, something he’d seen her do several times but that now only called attention to their lush fullness, making him want to test the flesh with his own, feel those lips on his body.

  “To new friends.” She raised her glass.