by Helen Karol
And in one - one Claire wanted to pull out and rip to shreds - he was looking at her, his eyes filled with unmistakable hunger and unbridled passion. She had snapped the book shut then and not looked at them again.
What had happened to that passion, Claire found herself wondering now? Had it been refined over time...or had it died - with Susanna?
She walked over to the smoked glass of the window and laid her forehead against it. An overwhelming despondency washed over her, and finally she let the tears trickle down her cheeks. She didn't even notice Richard until he was standing beside her. Her despair was so deep that his presence failed to evoke its usual violent reaction.
She turned her face away attempting to hide her tears.
"What's the matter, Claire? Don't tell me that sophisticated husband of yours actually lost his temper and gave you hell."
She hadn't expected gentleness; it was a quality she had never received from him before. In a way, she was grateful; his attitude revived her.
"Don't be ridiculous, why should he have lost his temper?"
"Don't tell me he doesn't know about us."
"Of course he does, but it doesn't bother him."
She moved away from him across the room as she spoke. "What makes you think you can put a chink in his armour? I certainly can't."
Except when I dare to suggest I might know him better than Susanna.
A look of quick perception crossed Richard's face. "So it's like that is it, not the jealous type. Or maybe he's just not jealous as far as you’re concerned."
He began closing the space between them. Claire didn't try to avoid him; she was rooted to the spot, dreading what he was about to say and yet desperate to hear it said at last.
"The way I hear it, he would have killed for his first wife."
Claire was powerless to stop his next words.
"What can you expect, Claire. I'm sure you know he was crazy about her. A man doesn't forget a woman like Susanna Ainsley too easily. Not even after eight years, maybe not ever."
At that particular moment, after all her doubts and tension of the past weeks, the words sounded like a death knell. She sat down heavily in Greg's chair and covered her face with her hands. Richard squatted in front of her pulling her hands away, his voice surprising her with its soothing softness.
"Don't worry, Claire - you've always got me. At least you know you'll always be first in my heart."
His words and unexpected tenderness broke her control and she fell into his arms, sobs shaking her frame. When Stella walked past she saw them; Claire's head on his shoulder, him looking over hers - the light of victory in his eyes.
Chapter Ten
Julian eyed the beautiful girl who paraded in front of him with a feeling akin to disgust. However, the feeling was directed not at the young woman, but at the garment she wore. It was his latest prototype and it was not shaping up. Hardly surprising really, nothing seemed to be lately.
"How does it feel, Rachel?"
"Well...”
The girl hesitated, uncertain about speaking her mind. Julian sighed. He knew most of the models he commissioned were a little in awe of him. He kept it that way deliberately; he didn't need the distractions. But at times his policy of aloofness had its drawbacks; like now. He smiled a smile calculated to set the girl at ease.
"It's important for me to know how it feels on you. It's part of your job. I promise not to be offended.
The girl's response to his smile was so sunny, he began to wonder if he'd overdone it, but thankfully her talk was all business.
"Well, usually you're designs are the most comfortable to wear, but this one, I don't know. It just doesn't fall properly, the skirt tends to get in the way when I walk and it's a little constricting at the neck."
Julian nodded. "Alright, thanks Rachel. I won't need you anymore."
The model accepted the dismissal, but stopped on her way out.
"I haven't seen you since you got married last month. I'd like to offer my congratulations."
"Thank-you, Rachel."
She didn't notice his smile was a little dry, too pleased because a man she had always considered unapproachable had unbent a little towards her.
"Congratulations, huh!" Julian announced disgustedly to the empty room.
Last month, even two weeks ago, he would have accepted the good wishes, good-naturedly; in the spirit they were given. But now, particularly today, he wasn't sure if congratulations were in order.
He'd known something was wrong. Over the past few weeks, he noticed Claire looking at him as if she were searching for something. He began to feel that perhaps he was failing her in some way; that he was unable to give her something she wanted. He tried to give her more of his attention, but the fact was he'd given her more of his attention than he could afford; the prototype was proof of that.
She was just too much of a distraction; she had been ever since she got back. He was way behind in his schedule and all the time she had probably been comparing him with Blake! No wonder she was so on edge lately. She probably got the fright of her life when she walked in and saw them together.
He ran a hand through his hair, disturbing the barely controlled order. This wasn't getting him anywhere. He knew better than to let these types of emotions surface. Better to laugh it off, the way he had at first. He remembered the look of outrage on her face and it almost made him laugh again - almost.
If only it had been left at that, he would have been able to stay in command of the situation. But he allowed her to steer him into dangerous territory, and then that crack about Susanna. Just what did she mean by that? It was the fact that she had been working with a man she'd almost lived with - a man who affects her the way no other man has - he remembered, bitterly; and he knew nothing about it!
He might never have found out if he hadn't decided to take her to lunch. That was the issue, not Susanna! What was she trying to do, compensate for her own guilt? Or was it possible she really did feel insecure as far as Susanna was concerned? He shrugged - that was ridiculous. But maybe?
He remembered when he noticed she had been looking through his old albums. They were arranged differently, the earliest ones on top instead of vice versa. He picked up the top one and looked through it. Susanna had been so vibrant, so full of life. That was why it had seemed so incomprehensible to him that life would ever leave her.
He looked so young; he hardly recognised himself. The emotions portrayed in the photographs seemed to belong to another person. In a way, they had. He had been too young, too heedless, not yet aware of the blows life could deal. He was glad he knew now, glad he had established the armour necessary to protect himself. It was just a matter of control.
But he had let that control slip. He had let himself slip into loving Claire more than he ever intended.
At least he hadn't let go completely. But even so, look at the damage that had been done. He was way behind in one of his most important ventures; his social circle were expecting him to enter the mainstream now he was married again; and Claire...who knew what was happening with Claire. His well-ordered life was beginning to topple. It was time he brought things back into line. A determined glint in his green eyes, he walked over to his intercom and flicked the switch.
"Delia, phone my wife and tell her I won't be able to make it to the party this evening, I have to work."
There was a startled pause and then. "Yes, of course, Mr. West."
Believing he had dealt with everything in one fell swoop, Julian returned to his recalcitrant designs, a satisfied set to his shoulders.
When Claire first got the message, she hardly cared. She was still too numb, too shaken by the events of the afternoon. In fact, she had forgotten about the plans for the evening. It did manage to penetrate that she should call and make their apologies to the hostess, but she didn't have her number. She thought of Andrea immediately; she knew everyone's number. She was just about to hang up on the fifth ring when Andrea's voice sounded in her ear.<
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"Andrea, its Claire."
"Why, Claire, what a pleasant surprise."
Claire went straight to the point; she wasn't in the mood for small-talk.
"Do you have Caroline's number? I have to call her. Julian has to work tonight, so we won't be able to make it."
"Yes, I do. How disappointing, although I suppose he must have got behind lately. Still it seems a shame you have to miss an outing."
Claire sighed, Andrea was a dear, but she didn't feel up to her exuberance. "It doesn't matter; I don't really feel like a party right now, anyway."
"Oh, but that is exactly the time when one should go out. Surely there's some young man who can escort you. Julian wouldn't expect you to stay home."
Claire repressed the temptation to answer that she didn't know what Julian expected anymore. "I don't think so, Andrea. I wouldn't feel right."
Andrea was forthright as usual. "Nonsense. If we women relied solely on the escort of our husbands we might never go anywhere. You might as well start building your stock of reliable men now. If you can't think of anyone, I shall oblige. But I'm sure you would feel more comfortable with your own choice. Ring me back if there are any problems and if not, I'll see you at the party."
The receiver clicked in Claire's ear before she even had a chance to ask for Caroline's number again. Trust Andrea. The irritation she felt with Andrea began to find another focus, as she turned over in her mind the suggestion she go to the party. Maybe Andrea was right. Why should she stay home alone just because he had to work? And why hadn't he phoned her himself? Claire's indignation began to build.
She had cried out her immediate dismay in Richard's arms a few hours before. After her first storm of tears, she had managed to control herself enough to examine the situation more dispassionately. She certainly had no intention of accepting Richard's offer in a moment of despair. She would wait a while and, if the situation failed to improve, then she would re-examine her options. Her decision had not pleased Richard who had stormed off to the darkroom; he really did dislike being thwarted.
However, prudence was one thing given the general situation; this incident was just a bit too much. As one tends to when there is a larger problem, Claire began to focus her frustration from the bigger picture to the smaller one. He really had a nerve having his secretary call her. It didn't matter how busy he was. Did he think just because they were married, he could dispense with courtesies? She had every right to go to the party. Andrea was right; it was just what she needed. But who could she ask to take her? Claire smiled. Why not?
Richard came out of the darkroom only a few minutes after she pressed the buzzer. His expression was still sulky, but Claire ignored it. His attraction for her, which had waned during her despondent mood, was fast returning. Perhaps this was a mistake. No, it was time she learned how to handle him anyway. It was also about time she learned how to control her wayward emotions. She took a deep breath and presented her proposition.
"Richard, how would you like to take me to a party tonight? Julian can't make it. It's not the type of affair one goes to alone and I was looking forward to going."
She looked up at him expectantly, without so much as qualm over the white lie, conveniently forgetting that until Andrea's suggestion she had been quite glad not to attend. The sulky expression vanished immediately, replaced by his tilted smile. He reached out and ran his hand down her arm.
"Sure, Claire, you know I'd do anything for you."
Claire swallowed and stepped back. Maybe she should drop the whole thing. However, her indignation boosted her courage. She was going. Richard would just have to understand under what conditions.
"I'm happy you feel you can oblige. However! I think we should get a few things straight first. We are going to a party together; we are not running away together. Despite what happened this afternoon, I have no intention of renewing our involvement, right now."
Encouraged by his startled look, Claire warmed to her subject; she might as well let him have it all. "Also, I want you to stop your seduction tactics. Even if there are problems with my marriage, and even if I am still attracted to you, that does not mean I have any intention of committing adultery. If you are really serious about your intentions towards me, then I suggest you start trying to communicate with me on more than just a sexual level. Now, those are the conditions under which we attend the party together. If you no longer wish to escort me, I'll understand."
Richard looked at Claire through narrowed eyes. This was a new Claire, or at least one he hadn't seen before; he wasn't sure if he liked the change. He shrugged; he would play along for a while, he could always change things if he felt it was necessary. He settled back against the doorframe and deepened his smile. She could hardly accuse him of attempting to seduce her with a smile, despite the effect he knew it had on her.
"Sure, whatever you say. What time will I pick you up?"
"I'll meet you there, at eight." She attempted to sound businesslike, to counteract the effect he was having on her. "This is the address." She turned to go after handing him the slip of paper, but she turned back. "It's fairly formal. Not tux's or anything, but a suit at least."
"Don't worry, I won't embarrass you."
"I'm sure you won't."
Elated by her victory over herself and him, she actually offered the last words in a flirtatious manner, a smile lurking around her lips. But her courage quickly failed her when he straightened. With a hasty parting remark, she made her way back down the hallway, a little more quickly than normal.
Julian arrived back at the beach-house after an evening of unprofitable work. He had intended to stay later, but there was a difference between being determined and being obstinate. He was getting absolutely nowhere, so he might as well go home. He could always use his workroom, should inspiration suddenly seize him, which would be a highly unlikely occurrence.
He was surprised when he pulled into the driveway to find the house in darkness. Even if Claire had gone to bed, why hadn't she left the outdoor light on? It wasn't even that late, not even nine yet. Claire was a night owl; he had never known her to go to bed this early. He smiled, at least, not to sleep.
So much for his good intentions. He wasn't even out the car and already he was feeling amorous. When he pulled into the garage, he realised he wasn't going to be able to act on his amorous intentions anyway. Her car wasn't there.
By the time he had showered and changed, she still wasn't home, and he began to wonder. Maybe she decided to stay at her apartment to avoid the drive. Why hadn't she texted him?
It began to dawn on him that perhaps she was mad at him. Grudgingly, he admitted, he should probably have called her himself.
There was no answer from her cell or at the apartment.
Yep, she was mad at him.
He helped himself to a drink and lay down on the couch.
When the sound of the key in the lock woke him, the first thing he noticed was the untouched drink. The next was the time; almost midnight. He took the couple of steps with one stride, taming his expression to show no signs of an inner battle. He stopped short in the dining room finding, suddenly, he had no need to war with his anger.
Every time he saw her in one of his designs, the suspicion increased that, subconsciously, he created it only for her. He expected to see her in the same business suit of the afternoon, and her beauty in the teal silk caught him unawares. It was a few moments before the reason for her dress dawned on him.
"You went to the party."
Claire hadn't moved from the entrance. As he had taken the steps in that purposeful manner, shivers of apprehension began to fill her. What had he said this afternoon “... you might not enjoy the consequences...” was she playing with fire?
But now, there was a light in his eyes that was slowly melting her defiance.
He had showered and changed into jeans and a v-necked cashmere sweater. He must have fallen asleep, because his hair had been allowed to dry naturally, the dark waves reb
ellious and curling. It gave him a boyish appearance that almost disarmed her. She felt like running her fingers through its thickness, and burying her face in his chest.
She collected herself. Why wouldn't he stop looking at her like that? Didn't he realise she was spoiling for a fight? She was - wasn't she?
"Yes, I went to the party."
She walked past him to the living room, into the middle, choosing her battleground. Looking up at him, she regretted her choice. From the raised height of the dining room, he seemed to have an advantage. However, he conceded this by joining her.
"You should have let me know."
There was no sign of the fight she was looking for. His tone wasn't even reproachful, only matter-of-fact.
"I would have, except, unfortunately, I don't have a personal secretary."
He gave a slow grin and tipped his head to her.
"Touché."
He was close enough now that she could reach out and push his hair back from his forehead. She indulged herself. It felt soft and springy and she could smell it's freshly washed scent. She felt his fingers on the arm of her dress.
“The colour of this dress turns your eyes almost blue."
Claire shivered. Since when did his slightest touch turn her blood to liquid fire? When had her love for him become such a physical hunger? The slow, gentle emotion become a deep, aching need?
Had her love for him suddenly become so deep because it was threatened? Whatever the cause, she knew now she loved him alone. Her attraction to Richard was puny compared to this overwhelming wealth of emotion.
The unexpected strength and suddenness of her feelings frightened her. They left her so vulnerable, so dependent on his love. Would he ever love her as much or would she always be second best?
She looked into his eyes. What lay behind their green fathomless depths, what secrets of the heart that denied her complete possession of that precious part of him? She felt his lips warm against her own. She returned the kiss, giving of herself completely, uncaring for the moment, welcoming whatever love he had to give her.