She foresaw anger. But she’d seen it before. Claire squared her shoulders and stiffened her neck. Once his impending tirade was complete, she’d explain. She wanted to face the man she’d just left.
The concierge inserted the key and penetrated the lock on the polished wooden door.
Before he pulled the opulent lever, the door opened. Instead of brown darkness she saw intense hazel. Flecks of gold shimmered within her husband’s gray-green eyes while his white hair lay casually over his forehead. Claire sighed as Phil beckoned her into the suite.
“Il mio amore!” (My love) He pulled her hand toward him; her body followed. Instantly his lips were on hers. She fought her urge to fight, knowing the concierge was watching their show.
Claire lifted her hands to Phil’s shoulders and pushed, “Lei mi sorprende.” (You surprise me)
In English, “Didn’t they tell you I was here? I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
The concierge stood faithfully near, in the open door. Phil immediately reached into his pocket, removed some Swiss Francs, and thanked him for his help. When the door closed Claire freed herself and retaliated, “They said Mr. Alexander was here, my husband. I didn’t know who to expect.”
“You seem disappointed?” Phil questioned. “I had to be your husband, to be allowed entry.”
Grasping her arm, he directed her to the main room. The doors of the balcony were open to the lake below. For moments they stood silently and watched the docks as yachts came and went. The hum of people below filled the silence as the sun made its way toward the Alps elongating the shadows below.
Claire’s mind tried unsuccessfully to prioritize her myriad of thoughts. After a time Phil’s arm surrounded her shoulders. She turned toward him; her words harsh, “The concierge is gone - the show is over.”
He removed his arm, “Did you complete your transaction?” “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“I had to get to you. I’m scheduled to return to the United States early tomorrow morning. I have an appointment with the ICPD. They want to discuss the disappearance of a woman I was hired to trail.” His eyes twinkled, “You know, there is a $100,000 reward!”
“So you’re here to turn me in?”
His hazel eyes closed, jaws clenched, and head shook. “No, Claire, I’m here to make sure you completed your little endeavor at the financial institution today and to set up a meeting to move you to your permanent residence. Where will that be?”
Claire’s neck straightened. She walked onto the balcony and peered over the wrought iron rail. Phil followed closely behind. His words were a mere whisper against the sounds of the blossoming nightlife below. “You know, the last time I followed you on to a balcony, you played me for a fool. Is that your intent tonight?”
Claire turned toward him. “You know it isn’t. Things have changed.”
“Some things.”
“In San Antonio I was protecting someone.”
“In San Antonio you out smarted me. I can’t tell you how much that impressed me.” He stepped closer. “Until that trip,” his breath bathed her cheeks, “I had preconceived ideas about you.”
Claire stood her ground and looked up into his eyes, “Preconceived?”
His gaze searched her contact covered eyes, “I researched you, you know?” She didn’t answer. “From the beginning of my assignment with Mr. Rawlings, I read all about Claire Rawlings Nichols and made assessments based on that research. I predetermined you to be this woman who tried to kill her multibillion dollar husband -- a gold-digger. I assumed he hired me to keep an eye on you, to let him know if you were getting close. I assumed he was afraid you might try it again. Then I saw you for the first time; you were walking down that street in Palo Alto. The wind was blowing your hair.” He reached out, removed the dark wig, and loosened strands of her once again chestnut hair from the confines of the hair pins. She shook her head allowing the trusses to fall free. “I knew Mr. Rawlings wanted you, not because he was afraid. He wanted you. His insistence at knowing your every move proved he wasn’t willing to give you up. Then, you tricked me in San Antonio.”
He stepped away. Slowly Phil settled at the wrought iron table, leaving Claire against the rail as the glow of the setting sun framed her beautiful face. She smiled at his reference as he went on, “I learned that week, you were so much more than a beautiful woman. You’re smart, strong, sneaky, and conniving.”
“If I recall, you called me a bitch.”
A grin filled his face. “I assure you, it was meant as a compliment. I find those qualities very endearing.” He leaned forward, “I immediately became enthralled. From that moment, I’ve fought an intense desire to have you for myself.”
Claire lowered her eyes. Although she didn’t want to encourage him; she needed his help, “Thank you,” she said demurely.
“For what?”
“For all you’ve done.”
His head tilted sideways, questioning her.
She went on, “Thank you -- for your kind note in San Diego, for saving my life in Palo Alto, and for wasting your talents babysitting me for months on end.”
“Clair... Isabelle,” he corrected, “I wish I could’ve been there sooner, in Palo Alto.”
Her smile turned bashful; she walked back into the suite. Phil rose and followed her within. “You, Harry, Tony, and the security guy all saved me.” She turned her intense gaze on him, “Right now, I’m nervous. Phil, I have so many questions – things aren’t adding up.” His gaze stopped her. She needed to collect her thoughts. Exhaling she said, “I’m going to go get these damn contacts out. Help yourself to the bar.”
The concierge inserted the key and penetrated the lock on the polished wooden door.
Before he pulled the opulent lever, the door opened. Instead of brown darkness she saw intense hazel. Flecks of gold shimmered within her husband’s gray-green eyes while his white hair lay casually over his forehead. Claire sighed as Phil beckoned her into the suite.
“Il mio amore!” (My love) He pulled her hand toward him; her body followed. Instantly his lips were on hers. She fought her urge to fight, knowing the concierge was watching their show.
Claire lifted her hands to Phil’s shoulders and pushed, “Lei mi sorprende.” (You surprise me)
In English, “Didn’t they tell you I was here? I didn’t mean to surprise you.”
The concierge stood faithfully near, in the open door. Phil immediately reached into his pocket, removed some Swiss Francs, and thanked him for his help. When the door closed Claire freed herself and retaliated, “They said Mr. Alexander was here, my husband. I didn’t know who to expect.”
“You seem disappointed?” Phil questioned. “I had to be your husband, to be allowed entry.”
Grasping her arm, he directed her to the main room. The doors of the balcony were open to the lake below. For moments they stood silently and watched the docks as yachts came and went. The hum of people below filled the silence as the sun made its way toward the Alps elongating the shadows below.
Claire’s mind tried unsuccessfully to prioritize her myriad of thoughts. After a time Phil’s arm surrounded her shoulders. She turned toward him; her words harsh, “The concierge is gone - the show is over.”
He removed his arm, “Did you complete your transaction?” “I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.”
“I had to get to you. I’m scheduled to return to the United States early tomorrow morning. I have an appointment with the ICPD. They want to discuss the disappearance of a woman I was hired to trail.” His eyes twinkled, “You know, there is a $100,000 reward!”
“So you’re here to turn me in?”
His hazel eyes closed, jaws clenched, and head shook. “No, Claire, I’m here to make sure you completed your little endeavor at the financial institution today and to set up a meeting to move you to your permanent residence. Where will that be?”
Claire’s neck straightened. She walked onto the balcony and peered over the wrought iron rail. Phil followed closely behind. His words were a mere whisper against the sounds of the blossoming nightlife below. “You know, the last time I followed you on to a balcony, you played me for a fool. Is that your intent tonight?”
Claire turned toward him. “You know it isn’t. Things have changed.”
“Some things.”
“In San Antonio I was protecting someone.”
“In San Antonio you out smarted me. I can’t tell you how much that impressed me.” He stepped closer. “Until that trip,” his breath bathed her cheeks, “I had preconceived ideas about you.”
Claire stood her ground and looked up into his eyes, “Preconceived?”
His gaze searched her contact covered eyes, “I researched you, you know?” She didn’t answer. “From the beginning of my assignment with Mr. Rawlings, I read all about Claire Rawlings Nichols and made assessments based on that research. I predetermined you to be this woman who tried to kill her multibillion dollar husband -- a gold-digger. I assumed he hired me to keep an eye on you, to let him know if you were getting close. I assumed he was afraid you might try it again. Then I saw you for the first time; you were walking down that street in Palo Alto. The wind was blowing your hair.” He reached out, removed the dark wig, and loosened strands of her once again chestnut hair from the confines of the hair pins. She shook her head allowing the trusses to fall free. “I knew Mr. Rawlings wanted you, not because he was afraid. He wanted you. His insistence at knowing your every move proved he wasn’t willing to give you up. Then, you tricked me in San Antonio.”
He stepped away. Slowly Phil settled at the wrought iron table, leaving Claire against the rail as the glow of the setting sun framed her beautiful face. She smiled at his reference as he went on, “I learned that week, you were so much more than a beautiful woman. You’re smart, strong, sneaky, and conniving.”
“If I recall, you called me a bitch.”
A grin filled his face. “I assure you, it was meant as a compliment. I find those qualities very endearing.” He leaned forward, “I immediately became enthralled. From that moment, I’ve fought an intense desire to have you for myself.”
Claire lowered her eyes. Although she didn’t want to encourage him; she needed his help, “Thank you,” she said demurely.
“For what?”
“For all you’ve done.”
His head tilted sideways, questioning her.
She went on, “Thank you -- for your kind note in San Diego, for saving my life in Palo Alto, and for wasting your talents babysitting me for months on end.”
“Clair... Isabelle,” he corrected, “I wish I could’ve been there sooner, in Palo Alto.”
Her smile turned bashful; she walked back into the suite. Phil rose and followed her within. “You, Harry, Tony, and the security guy all saved me.” She turned her intense gaze on him, “Right now, I’m nervous. Phil, I have so many questions – things aren’t adding up.” His gaze stopped her. She needed to collect her thoughts. Exhaling she said, “I’m going to go get these damn contacts out. Help yourself to the bar.”
