Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(118)

She had absolutely nothing to say to that. Her mind had gone blank. She stared stupidly into his hypnotic eyes, her mouth working.

She finally managed to break eye contact, and groped randomly for something, anything, to say. "Um, I'm really sorry, but I haven't had time to complete my report on the pieces I examined in Silver Fork," she said. "I've had some pressing personal difficulties, so I—"

"It's just as well," he cut in smoothly. "I have another three items for you to assess anyway. You may as well include them in the report."

Her mind seized gratefully onto the thought of a job to do. "Do you want me to look at them now? I don't have my tape recorder, or my—"

"No, thank you. The pieces will not be delivered until tomorrow afternoon. I'm afraid you must return, my dear. Tomorrow at five o'clock, if that is convenient for you."

Her head jerked, like a puppet on a string. "That's fine," she said. "But… then why did you invite me here tonight?"

He lifted his shoulders, smiling. "Tonight is not for work," he said. "Tonight is for the pleasure of getting acquainted, exploring our common ground. May I get you a drink? A glass of champagne?"

The hypnotized marionette who had taken over her body jerked her head up and down in assent. She didn't even like champagne.

Mueller poured the bubbling liquid into a crystal flute and handed it to her. "I wished to secure as much of your time as possible before I go back to Paris. I leave day after tomorrow. Managing a fund the size of the Quicksilver is a tyrannical undertaking. One becomes a slave to it."

She sipped her champagne and thought of her own devastated bank account. "I wouldn't know about that," she muttered.

His eyes flashed at the hint of irony in her voice. "Did that strike you as a tactless comment, Ms. Riggs?"

"Not at all. And please call me Erin," she said politely.

"Then you must call me Claude. I speak freely of money because I have reason to believe that your financial difficulties are at an end."

"Oh." She had never met anyone who made her feel so empty-headed. She'd been tongue-tied with Connor, but there had always been millions of things she wanted to say to him. A lifetime of things.

With Mueller, her mind felt wiped clean. As if a voracious computer virus were eating everything on the hard drive of her brain.

"Have you given any thought to my offer regarding the Huppert?"

That, at least, was something she was clear about. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I have," she said. "I'm afraid I have to decline."

She watched the bubbles rise as she waited for his reaction, until curiosity compelled her to look up at him again.

He was half-smiling, as if she amused him. "May I ask how you came to this decision?" he inquired.

She set her champagne glass down. She was shivering in the chilly room, and all too aware of the effect that had upon her nipples, covered only by a fragile layer of silk and chiffon. "I can't bear the falseness," she admitted. "I know I'm being childish. I'll find it everywhere I turn, in every work environment. But I can't go back there and pretend everything's fine when it's rotten inside. I won't do it. Not for anyone. Not for any sum of money."

He chuckled, and poured himself a glass of champagne. He lifted it to her in a silent, smiling toast, and took a sip.

She was bewildered. "What? Did I say something funny?"

"Not at all," he said. "You said exactly what I hoped you would say. This was a test, Erin. A test that you have passed."

She shivered, and wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

"So you've just been playing with me? Is this all a game to you?"

He sipped his champagne, regarding her keenly over the rim of his glass. "No. The offer was a real one. But I was wondering if you would refuse it on principle. I wanted to see what you were made of. Only if you passed this test would you know what lay beyond the initial offer."

She reached for her glass, and took a gulp, coughing as the bubbles burned down her throat. The torque felt as heavy around her neck as a hangman's noose. "And what does lie beyond it?" she asked.

His lips curved. "An infinity of other possibilities. If you have the courage to embrace them."

"Please be more clear and direct." She'd grown accustomed to Connor's blunt honesty. She had no patience for talking in circles.

"Very well," he said. "Come to Paris with me."

She almost dropped her glass. His hand flashed out and steadied it, his fingers closing over hers. The delicate stem wobbled. Bright drops of liquid splashed out onto his hand, glittering like gems.

He lifted his hand to his lips and licked the drops away.

The calculated sensuality of the gesture repelled her. The room felt glacial, the billowing curtains were ghosts that fluttered around her, wringing their hands in frantic warning. She could almost hear their voices, whispering in her head.

"Paris?" she whispered.

He nodded. "Yes. I did not plan this. I am not an impulsive man by nature. But now that I have seen you, I have never been so serious in my life. Come to Paris with me, Erin."

Erin took a cautious step back. "Ah… and do what?"

This panic was so silly. Men flirted with her on a regular basis. Not as extravagantly as this, perhaps, but it was not an unknown occurrence in her life. And yet she wanted to turn and run. She wanted to cover up that plunging neckline that exposed her chest, her breasts, her heart to his gaze. She wanted a woolen greatcoat, a suit of chain mail. A six-foot reinforced concrete wall. Claude Mueller scared her. There was no earthly reason for it, but he scared her to death.