Francesca, somehow sensing, with that bizarre intuition of hers, how low he'd sunk, had returned. At his weakest point. When he hadn't been able to do anything but take her apart like he'd wanted to for the past two weeks. He had seduced her, drowned himself in her. And when it was done, he'd still felt like he'd only skimmed the surface of what they were.
His hand clenched around her smooth thigh beneath his palm. Francesca murmured and moved against him. He extracted himself from her, his guts turning in a slow, discomforting twist. The intimacy they had shared had been overwhelming and unexpected. But far more damaging had been what he had revealed. The scary depths his mind could scale if he let it... The tortured part of him. The man no one knew.
A cold layer of perspiration blanketed his skin. Never did he let anyone see his vulnerabilities. His weaknesses. Yet Francesca had walked in here last night and smashed through his defenses with one sexy kiss to his palm. He shuddered to think what she'd witnessed. His was not a darkness he chose to show to anyone. And he'd been darker last night than he had in ages. Completely inside his head.
He ran a palm over his damp brow. It didn't surprise him that it had been Francesca who'd broken through to him. What shocked him was how completely he had fallen under her spell. How thoroughly she had pushed the torment away. Until there had only been the purity of her to ease his troubled soul.
And she had. He may have made a huge mistake with her, his head might still be buzzing from it, but the heaviness had lifted. The darkness had gone.
Her scent drifted to him again, evocative and oh so feminine. His body reacted immediately. You would think after not having sex for months and having her twice last night, he'd be out of gas. His body, apparently, begged to differ.
If he laid one hand on her now he was a goner. He knew that as certainly as the sun came up in the morning. His only hope was to get out of bed, shower and make a plan for how to handle this. He might then have a chance of escaping with his head intact. Might.
He reached down and slid her leg off his with the subtlest of movements. Francesca sighed and curled up in a ball. Perfect. He shifted his weight to the outside of the bed, eased himself sideways until he could throw his legs over the side. Another sigh. He looked back. Big mistake. If there had ever been an angel in his bed it was Francesca. Her long dark hair was tangled around her face, she had the body of Venus and goodness shone from her like a beacon to come to the light.
His mouth firmed. Not a bloody chance in hell.
He threw himself under a cold shower. He would get the contract over to Leonid this morning, the Russian would sign and he would execute his long-awaited confrontation with Anton Markovic. Markovic was making it easy on him with a planned trip to Washington to lobby the government. Except he would never be able to deliver on that contract because his supply chain was now owned by Grant Industries.
How unfortunate.
He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off. Francesca was still dead to the world when he slipped into the bedroom. He grabbed a shirt and trousers from the walk-in closet, dressed and made for the kitchen and coffee. A steaming cup of sensibility in his hand, he walked out onto the terrace and watched Manhattan stir to life. The lights had gone off in the park, the day-shift cabbies were taking over from the night shift and he could already see the powerful cars of the die-hard financial brokers on the road ready to get a jump start on the day.
A low oath escaped him. Things always looked better in the morning, but what had happened between him and Francesca last night? It had been such a huge error in judgment on his part, he couldn't even fathom it. They could not continue to work together after last night. She would be the end of him. If he'd been distracted before, he hated to think what he'd be like now knowing what it felt like to take her. To have all that sweetness and fire underneath him, begging for his possession.
It would make him crazy.
Except giving her back to Coburn also inspired that same feeling. His brother could seduce a woman without even using a tenth of his charm. But Francesca had declared herself not interested...
His mind slammed the door shut on the subject with a definitive thud. It was the right thing to do.
* * *
The fact that she was naked sprawled across Harrison Grant's bed hit Frankie before she registered he wasn't anywhere to be seen. Thank God. Pieces from the night before circulated through her head like the View-Master she'd had as a kid, except this show was not her favorite fairy-tale princesses, this was her and her boss acting out their deepest, darkest fantasies.
Oh, dear lord. Adrenaline fast-circuiting through her veins, she pushed off the massive bed, rustled around on the floor for her underwear and slid it and her dress on. Her lace stockings sat in a pile beside the bed. She picked them up and balled them up in her hands. No way was she going there today.
A covert operation to the living room turned up her purse where she'd dropped it on a chair last night. She shoved the stockings in it and went in search of her more gut-churning target. The compassion she'd been intent on honoring last night was fading fast, replaced by the utter horror of what she'd done. Yes, this might have been inevitable between them, but this was her job. When had she decided that was less important than mending Harrison's broken spirit?
Her teeth sank into her lip. Right around the same time he'd kissed her again. But it didn't negate the facts. She didn't for one minute think they could carry on like normal after that. Facing him was going to be hard enough.
She fortified herself with the thought she would do the same thing if presented with the situation all over again. Leaving a human being in agony wasn't an option. How she handled things now was.
The smell of coffee drifted through the penthouse, guiding her to the kitchen. When she didn't find Harrison there, she crossed the living room to his study. He was working, looking fresh as a daisy in a crisp shirt and pants. She winced as he looked up, his gaze moving over her tangled hair to her rumpled dress to her stockingless feet.
"I'm going to shower and change at home," she said hurriedly. "I was just coming to tell you I was leaving."
His gaze settled on her face. "Go get a cup of coffee and we'll talk first."
No. No talking. Just escape. His eyes narrowed. "Get the coffee now, Francesca."
The order brought his others from the night before back. Exciting, forbidden. She turned around abruptly and headed for the kitchen. That was not the way to handle this.
He had pulled his chair out from the desk and was sitting facing the sofa when she returned. She handed him a new cup of coffee, noting the look of absolute control on his face. The beast was back. Good. That would be helpful.
She sat down on the leather sofa, legs arranged in front of her like she was at a tea party. His gaze held hers. "We can't just avoid what happened last night."
"I know."
"It was bound to happen, we both know that."
She nodded again. Set the coffee on the table before she spilled it.
He steepled his fingers against his thigh and studied the arrangement. "I wasn't in a great place last night. My head wasn't right."
Tell her something she didn't know. "It shouldn't have happened, regardless of our chemistry. It creates real issues."
"I get that." Her words came out sharp and singed.
He looked up at her, his hard gaze softening into something more human. "It was amazing, Francesca. You were amazing. I-" He stopped, frowning, as if looking for exactly the right word, like a man on the witness stand. "I needed to escape. I needed to not be in my head. And you helped me do that."
So she was the nonrational choice. Fury fired her veins. She knew exactly what she'd been to him last night. She was shocked, however, by how much more she wanted him to say. How she wanted him to admit the undeniably special connection they shared. That last night had been as unforgettable as she'd thought it was. Even though she knew that was ridiculous. Harrison didn't commit. Last night had illustrated the demons that drove him-demons that had shut him down this morning.
She'd be so smart, so wise, to stay away. He was right.
"You needed to be with someone," she said quietly. "It's fine."
His gaze sharpened on the stubborn upper curve of her lip. He looked as if he was going to say something, then his mouth tightened. "We need to decide where we go from here. I don't think it's reasonable to expect us to keep working together under these circumstances. I'm going to send you back to Coburn after the Aristov deal is signed. I can use one of Tessa's replacement candidates until she's back."
Her shoulders rose. She knew it had been coming, but he threw it at her like one of the painful, ruthless decisions he made on a daily basis.