Chances & Choices (33 page)

"Go away, Claire!"

Snapping her mouth open and then shut, she stared down at his hunched shoulders and then at the cold coffee in his mug.
 An imp seized her.  Why not, he was asking for it!  She tipped her hand and the liquid cascaded down his neck and over the chair.

"You little…," springing up, he clutched at his wet shirt, holding it away from the back of his neck.
 Claire looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Sorry, my hand must have slipped."

The disbelief was blazing in his eyes, but he marched from the room without a word.  Claire closed the door after him, before collapsing against it in laughter.  Sobering, she went into the kitchen and collected a cloth to clean up the mess,

She turned the chair sideways to mop it.
 As she finished, her eye was caught by a piece of paper that had slipped under the table.  Bending over the chair, she reached under the table to retrieve it.

Julian was placing his wet shirt in the clothes hamper in the hall closet, when he saw her through the opened door.
 Having washed away the stickiness of the coffee, his immediate ill-humour had passed.  The incident had released his tension, and he was finding it hard not to smile at her nerve.  He knew fine it was no accident.

When he saw her, he did a double take.
 The target she presented was irresistible.  The same imp that seized Claire minutes before, claimed him now.  He gave in to temptation.

Claire jumped up immediately, rubbing her smarting rear.
 Fuming, she glared at him as he settled back against the doorframe, bare-chested, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"Sorry, my hand must have slipped."

Claire failed to see the humour in the situation.  How dare he stand there looking so...so...virile, arousing a burning desire in her, despite his action of the moment before.  Especially when she was sure he had no intention of doing anything about the sensations he was raising.

"Don't you ever do that again, or I'll..." she searched for something suitable.
 "...I'll charge you with assault!"

The only effect her threat had on Julian was to increase his amusement.
 "Can't, sweetheart.  It doesn't count as assault when the blow is dealt with the flat of the hand."

She marched towards him.
 "Oh, really, well in that case..."

As soon as she drew near enough, she raised her hand.
 He caught her wrist before she could deliver the slap, forcing her hand gently but determinedly behind her, using it to arch her back, bringing her body close to his own.  Claire was still incensed enough to try and arch away from him.

Her action combined with his as she came in contact with his chest; pushing her breasts upwards above her skimpy bikini top.
 He bent his head burying his lips in their burgeoning softness.

The touch of his mouth melted Claire's anger instantly.
 She curled her arm around the back of his neck, thrusting her body against him to increase their contact, wishing he would release her other hand so she could run it across his back.

Instead, he reached up and pulled her arm from his neck and imprisoned her wrist beside its partner in the same hand.
 For an awful moment, she thought he intended to put her away from him, but then he turned her, his body pushing her backwards, possessively, against the wall, his free hand relentlessly caressing her, his plundering lips claiming hers.

His kisses increased, deepening in intensity, as he arched her ever closer, finally releasing her wrists, moving the hand that had held them downwards to grasp her buttocks and pull her hard against his thighs and his arousal.
 Claire  ground her body against him, moulding to him, running her hands along his back and shoulders, feverishly.  She was desperate to get close to him, to touch him, to hold him; she had no idea how long she would be in his arms or when she might hope to be in them again.

His forceful kisses and caresses were raising a frenzy in her and when his hand slipped down inside her bikini to fondle her most sensitive area, showering her with fevered, penetrating strokes, she shuddered against him.
 It had only been a few days since he had touched her, but to Claire it seemed an eternity and his fierceness there produced an immediate and shattering response.

Their ragged, harsh breathing calmed in unison as he cradled her against him.
  While the spasms left her, she heard his voice tortured against her neck.  "Why do you have to be so lovable."  He put her away from him then and left her alone in the hall.  Claire collapsed against the doorframe, waiting for the world to stop spinning around her.

Gradually composing herself, she entered the bedroom, where he was standing in front of the closet, presumably selecting his clothes for the showing, but staring at them as if he didn't really see them, and Claire wondered how long he had stood there.

Slipping her arms around his waist, she laid her cheek against his still naked back.  It smelled very faintly of coffee and she smiled.  Trailing her lips across his skin, standing on tiptoe to place kisses between his shoulder blades, she spoke, her voice husky and pleading.

"Forget the showing, Julian.
 Stay and make love to me."

"No, Claire.
 It's important for us both to go."  Releasing him, she backed away, wrapping her arms miserably around her body.  How many times would he reject her?

"You're going to run out of excuses eventually, or will you just make sure you find some more?"

She heard him expel his breath, and he walked towards her, touching her shoulder.  “Claire, I know I'm not being fair to you.  We'll talk later."

Still miserable, she nodded.
 He was only pacifying her; she didn't want his pity.

Silence reigned in the car as they drove to the showing.  Julian slipped his hand over to caress her knee in a comforting manner, but she moved out of his reach, still smarting from his rejection.  His lips became a thin line and he pushed into the back of his seat, his arms extended as he gripped the steering wheel.  He made no more approaches to her, and Claire stared unseeingly out the window.

They reached the showroom just in time, ushered to their seats as the announcer began.
 Across the room, Claire noticed Andrea waving and waved listlessly back.  Deep in thought, she didn't even look at the models as they paraded down the ramp.  It was irresponsible of her, she was supposed to be covering this show, but she was past caring.

Slowly, she became aware of a tension emanating from Julian that seemed different from before.
 She realised he was stiff beside her and she could sense a growing anger in him.  What had she done now?

But it was not at her he looked.
 His gaze was fixed steadily on the ramp in front of him.  Finally, he rose to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides.  She gripped his arm, realising something was seriously wrong.

"Julian, what's the matter!"

Looking down at her, as if it took an effort to tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him, he told her, his tone low, audible only to her.

"Claire, those are my designs!"

Claire stared at him, incredulously.
 "Are you sure?"

"Of course, I'm sure.
 Do you think I would make a mistake like that?"

He ushered her to the back of the room as people looked at them, shushing them with disapproving stares.

"There are minor changes here and there, but they're mine alright."  He lowered his voice, as people in the back row turned to glare.  "What I don't understand is how she got hold of them.  I'm sure everyone who had access to them was entirely trustworthy.

"Didn't you notice they were missing?"
 Puzzled, not understanding her misconception, he shook his head.  "They're not."  Then, realising she was confused, he explained.  "Copies.  Photographs."

This statement had a strange effect on Claire.
 He watched in amazement as varying emotions crossed her face, ending in blinding anger.  Driven by it, she ran from the room.

"Claire!
 Aw shut up!" he snapped at the woman who had emitted an irritated sshh.  Ignoring her indignant face, he went after Claire.

The car was pulling away as he came out on the street, Claire hunched purposefully over the steering wheel.
 Hurriedly he hailed a cab.

It was Stella who opened the door to Claire's impatient banging's and rings.
 So that was one flame that hadn't burned itself out.  Poor Stella.  She pushed past her into the apartment.  Stunned, Stella stood beside the door, not closing it.

"Claire, what are you doing here?"

"Where's Richard?"

Seeing her quarry come out of another room, she crossed to him, calling him every name she could think of.
  "There aren't enough names to describe what you are.  I didn't think even you could stoop so low."

He didn't even try to pretend innocence.
 Over Claire's head, he saw something she didn't, and an opportunity to cause more trouble.

"You can drop the act, Claire.
 Don't you think he'll eventually figure out how I got them?"

"Oh, I know how you got them and I'm only too painfully aware of my part in it.
 But I don't think Julian will hold it against me"

Richard leered, she'd played right into his hands, just as he hoped.
 "No?  Why don't you ask him?"

Claire turned in the direction of where his eyes looked.
 Framed in the doorway she saw Julian, the look on his face as he moved into the room, dealing a deathblow to all her hopes.  From far away, she heard Richard's hateful voice, continuing with his lies.

"She got the idea when she was doing the profile on Cecile.
 I believe something you said yourself about Cecile becoming too predictable started her off."

Claire's eyes had never left Julian or the expression on his face.
  "You actually believe him!"

Not waiting to hear if he would answer, she rushed past him and out of the building.
 The sight of her running away from him triggered the release of deep emotions in Julian he had kept hidden for too many years.  But, as he turned to go after her, Blake’s voice vied for his attention.

“
You really shouldn’t have left her – again - last weekend; she acts impulsively when she doesn’t get what she wants.  I thought you figured that out when she took me to that party.  You can’t manage her. She needs a firmer hand than yours”

Julian told himself to ignore the other man’s baiting, going
after Claire was too important. But as he made for the door, Blake moved in front of him, squaring up to him.  It was clear the man wanted a fight.  Part of him told himself he wasn’t worth the effort, but his more primal part welcomed the opportunity.  If he had got his hands on him the other night when Claire told him what he tried with her at the studio...of course, that was how Blake got his hands on the designs!  Julian had let her persuade him to let it go and he did in order to keep her happy, but if Blake didn’t back off...

Julian watch
ed with all his instincts on alert as the man squared up to him.  He obviously thought he could take him in a fight, just as he thought he could take Claire from him.  He decided he would allow himself the indulgence of showing the man just him deluded he was.  He answered him in a slow contemptuous drawl.

“
Fortunately, I don’t feel the need to resort to force or theft.”

Stella watched with
more than a slight thrill at the sight of the two men engaged in an age old ritual. Despite how angry and disgusted she was with her former lover, she almost felt sorry for him.  He had no idea what he was up against in Julian West.  Regardless of her pity, she knew was going to thoroughly enjoy the sight of West’s restrained virility finally become unleashed in the act of vanquishing his adversary.

Just as
West intended, Richard lost it at the thinly veiled insult.  He made an unplanned lunge at him throwing a punch at his face.  West waited for the punch to almost reach him and then moved to the side, dropping slightly to avoid it with ease, while at the same time hammering through a punishing blow to the stomach with his right and then bringing up his left in a vicious upper cut to the jaw.

Richard
buckled inwards and then reeled backwards to stumble heavily and crash against the table and onto the floor.  He had enough sense to stay where he was, or more likely he was too weakened by the powerful punches to do anything else. West flexed his left hand, looked at Richard with satisfaction and then left intent on the more important task of dealing with his wife. 

Instead of closing the door after Julian had exacted his swift retribution, Stella
watched Richard stagger up and make it over to the sink.  She picked up her purse, preparing to leave herself.  Richard saw her intention from where he stood at the sink of the open kitchen, fingering his swelling jaw as he washed the blood from his mouth.