HIS By Design -Coveting Claire (6 page)

Collecting her thoughts before they digressed
too much, she continued her mental debate over his dressing habits.
 Viewing him as he turned to refill his coffee mug, she
decided the jeans definitely flattered his back view better than
formal pants.  But dressed formally, he was also attractive.
 He’d excellent taste and his suits were classy rather than
stuffy. Somehow they spoke of a latent virility that was really
quite exciting now that she thought about it. Taking one final
inspection, she decided he was just plain sexy no matter how he
dressed.  Her decision must have shown in her face because
Julian spoke to her in dryly-amused tones.

"If you've finished your appraisal and I’ve
finally met with your approval, perhaps you could go and
change."

Claire smiled saucily and climbed up on one
of the stools at the breakfast bar.  "Why?  Don't I meet
with your approval in my present mode of dress?"

Obviously deciding to play her at her own
game, he reached across the wood that separated them and brushed
the back of his hand across her bikini top. "It's wet. You could
catch cold."

Claire inhaled her breath, mentally conceding
him a point.  But in her eyes, the game was far from over.
 She bent her elbow on the counter, cupping her chin in her
hand. "I thought you didn't want me warmed up."

Laughing, he rested his arms on his side of
the bar.  "Don't you think it's time we called a truce?"

"Okay," she agreed deceptively before sliding
her arms around his neck.  "How do you suggest we seal
it?"

He kissed her gently on the lips and then
straightened, obviously intending to go no further.  Claire
didn't push him, removing her arms from around his neck, sensing
he’d become serious.  He didn't look directly at her when he
spoke.

"Look, Claire, it's not that I'm averse to a
change in our relationship. It's just that I think it's too soon
after..."

He paused and Claire supplied rather wryly.
 "My lusty experiences in New York?"

He looked at her then with reproachful
amusement.  "I’ve a feeling you're not going to let me forget
that remark."

Claire didn't reply, merely taking a sip from
her coffee, but her eyes supported his comment, promising future
reprisals.

"You're right though, that is what I mean.
 I'd rather not be used as rebound material."

Claire protested, “Julian, that’s not the
reason.  Do you find it so hard to believe I'm attracted to
you?"

"No, but you're confused right now."

Claire became exasperated.  "I'm old
enough to know my own feelings.  I don’t need you to explain
them to me,” conveniently forgetting that she’d relied on his
judgment only the night before.

Julian didn't remind her, his answer only
slightly impatient.  "I don't care how old you are.  No
one can completely assess their emotions under pressure, and you've
been in a stressful situation for a number of weeks.  All I'm
suggesting is you take a breathing space."

"And then?"

"'We'll see," but his eyes were full of
promise.

Claire considered.  His suggestion made
sense. She nodded.  "Alright.  Should we lay down the
ground rules?"  A little of her earlier sauciness returned,
drawing a chuckle from him.

"No.  I don't think that'll be
necessary."

"Well, I don't know.  Is kissing
allowed?"

Julian answered her through action, his lips
lingering longer than before.  "Yes.  As long as they
don't go much further than that.  And they shouldn't be too
frequent, either," he added, backing away from her advancing
mouth.

Claire stole another kiss anyway, before she
slid off the stool and left to change.

Showering quickly, she pulled on casual
clothes similar to his.  She towel-dried her hair and prepared
to return it to the topknot she'd worn for her swim.  Changing
her mind, she used the blow dryer until it surrounded her head like
a golden veil, curling around her shoulders in soft waves to frame
her face.  

Julian was still at the breakfast bar when
she returned, although he’d moved round to sit at one of the
stools, gazing out at the ocean, lost in his thoughts.
 Hearing her enter, he turned his head.  As he caught
sight of her, a startled expression crossed his face.

"You cut your hair!"

"Yes, I forgot you hadn't seen it.  It's
easier to care for this way.  I got fed up with it last month
and did the evil deed.  It's alright. It didn't hurt a bit,"
she reassured him, surprised at his reaction. He looked positively
bereft.  However, he recovered quickly and like the perfect
gentlemen he was, complimented her on the change, adding, "It gives
you an air of sophistication."

Inwardly Julian shrugged.  It did suit
her and at shoulder length, it was still long enough and thick
enough to...  "How about an omelet for breakfast?"

Claire nodded, following him into the
kitchen, wondering what his secret smile was about.  She
discontinued her speculation when he separated some articles from
the ones he’d taken from the fridge and dropped them in front of
her on the counter.

"How come I always get the onions?"

"Cook's helper always gets the dirty
jobs."

She eyed him resentfully. Nevertheless, she
began peeling and cutting.  Together they prepared the omelet.
 Claire had forgotten how easily they moved around in this
kitchen.  It’d been three years since they prepared a meal
together.  They’d always eaten out when Julian was in New
York.  But when he placed the onions in front of her with such
a familiar gesture those years fell away as if they’d never been.
 When he asked her to pass him the skillet, she instinctively
opened a cupboard and passed it to him, voicing her thoughts.

"Everything's in the same place, it's almost
as if I never left."

Pouring the beaten eggs into the pan, adding
the onions and mushrooms, he said. "Yes, I’m a creature of habit,
I'm afraid"

"Habits can be fun to break," and she let her
fingers walk up his back.  "Sorry, I forgot," removing her
fingers when he looked reprovingly over his shoulder, but she
wasn't the least bit remorseful.  "You’d better give me
something else to do with my hands."

Laughing, he told her to set the table.
 She completed the task quickly and then looked around.
 The house was built in California style; open plan with
varying levels.  The table where she sat was nestled in a
large bay window, making it a cozy nook looking over the ocean.
 The working kitchen was separated from her in part by the
breakfast bar that followed round in a semi-u.  To her left
were the glass doors leading to the deck and further away the three
steps led down into the living room. The east wall was taken up
with a high tech media center coupled with shelves of books from
floor to ceiling ranging from gold embossed leather to well-worn
paperbacks.

From there, and at the other end of the
wooden railing that divided the living room from the rest of the
house, the two steps Claire posed at the top of the night before
led up to the bedrooms and across to the dining room.  This
room adjoined the kitchen, although it was one step lower and also
led to the entrance to the double garage at the side of the house.
 The house possessed four bedrooms, one of which Claire knew
Julian had converted to a workroom so he could work at home if he
wanted. The decor was predominantly Spanish, although it was
stylish and comfortable rather than overpowering.  In fact, it
was a lot like the man who lived in it.  

Claire sighed contentedly. "I love your
house, Julian."

He placed a plate filled with omelet in front
of her and one in front of him, asking as he sat down. 
"Enough to live in it, some day?"

Claire stared at him.  "Now who’s
breaking the rules?"

He didn't apologize as she had. Instead he
began to eat.

Claire followed suit, but her fork froze on
the way to her mouth. She remembered his reaction when she'd told
him of Richard's suggestion she move in with him and the full
import of Julian's words sank in.  Quickly, she looked at his
face, but it was emotionless, as if he’d merely commented on the
weather and Claire didn't have the confidence to probe further.
Instead, she began talking of the weather herself.

After breakfast, they went for a walk on the
beach, catching up on old news, closing the gap of the years she'd
been away.  On the way back to the house, Julian suggested
driving down to Long Beach for lunch and spending the afternoon
there.

"Sounds like fun.  Should we
change?"

He looked down.  They’d walked barefoot
along the shore with their jeans turned up at the bottom.
 Despite this, the cuffs of both had been soaked by the waves
and when they sat down the sand stuck to the wet material.
 Claire followed his gaze and smiled ruefully.

"You're right," and then added challengingly.
 “Bet I can change faster than you."

He laughed.  "As if any woman could
change faster than a man."

"Well, we'll see about that!"

Catching him off guard, she pushed him and
then tripped him, sending him sprawling on the beach.  Then
she dashed for the house intent on using her unfairly gained
advantage.  His cry of cheat reached her just before she
entered the house.  Chuckling merrily, she realized she hadn't
felt this light-hearted for months, maybe even years. It struck her
that she hadn't only missed the surf. She'd missed him.

Changing into light green slacks and a blouse
in a small check of white and matching green, she decided to wear a
light foundation to cover her untanned complexion.  Blusher,
eye shadow and lip-gloss completed her toilette and she joined
Julian in the living room, who, despite her duplicity, had managed
to dress ahead of her.  He’d changed into beige slacks and a
button down shirt of a deeper shade of green than her own clothes.
 A shade, she couldn't help noticing that exactly matched the
color of his eyes. He stood up when she entered and looked at her
in pretended fierceness.

"Minx.  I ought to take you across my
knee."

"Huh!  You and whose army." She threw at
him saucily to combat the hot flood of desire that coursed through
her at his threat.

When he advanced purposely towards her, she
gulped, her bravado deserting her. Squealing, she turned tail and
fled in an attempt to reach the relative safety of his car. She
wasn’t quick enough. His arms were around her before she was even
halfway up the dining room steps. Lifting her off her feet, he
pulled her back against him, his lips just behind her ear.

She felt his hot breath and heard his sexy
growl mixed with amusement. “An army, huh? That’s big talk for a
little minx. A very naughty, little minx who needs a lesson in fair
play. You really shouldn’t throw out challenges like that, Claire.
You ought to know it'll only get you in trouble.”

Claire squealed even more at his words.
Partly with laughter, partly with a thrill of fear and definitely
with a liberal dose of desire. Her whole body felt hot, her pulse
throbbing at how much more closely this fit with her thoughts over
dinner the night before. Not just a few swats this time, but a
proper spanking across his knee. When other men threatened her
teasingly this way, the result was a chase similar to this. None of
them ended with the promised spanking. Instead, the roughhousing
moved on to tumbled laughter and kissing. She enjoyed the kissing
and what it led to, but always felt deflated when the desire
aroused by the threat of the spanking was unfulfilled. She wasn’t
sure if she’d feel the same desire if she was actually very soundly
spanked, but as Julian held her close in his powerful arms, her
heart pounded desperately with the hope that she was finally about
to find out. Were those few smacks last night as far as he’d go?
Would he follow through or would he just end this in laughter and a
few kisses like the others?

Typically, Julian didn’t let her down. Before
she knew it, he’d hoisted her over his shoulder and was carrying
her purposely towards the couch. Remembering her feisty statement
earlier, she figured she really should put up a bit of fight.
Punching his back and kicking her legs, she berated him. “Julian
West, don’t you dare! You can’t spank me again. Not like this.
Don’t you dare put me across your knee. I'll never speak to you
again! Not ever!”

He laughed outright as he sat down and
arranged her across one knee, stilling her flailing legs by placing
his leg across them. “Come on, Claire! We both know that's an idle
threat. We're too solid for that.”

Lying prone across his knee, her body
effectively under his control, Claire suddenly felt outrageously
vulnerable. It was not at all the same as when she was standing
against his car’s solid support for the smacking last night. She
looked at the plush carpet beneath her gaze and wanted to be facing
upright. Fantasy was one thing, reality quite another. She pushed
upwards, trying to rise up from over his powerful thigh. Despite
her sudden ambivalence, she found herself baiting him by throwing
out another challenge guaranteed to seal her fate. “Julian! No!
Don’t you dare! I mean it!”

“Too late, Claire.”

Claire tried another tactic. “No fair! This
breaks our ‘no sexual stuff yet’ truce.”

“Give it up, Claire. You’re getting a
spanking. I’ll take it easy seeing as how this is your first time
across my knee.” His tone was still amused, but his arm across her
back was intractable, his determination quietly steely. “And this
doesn’t break our truce. Taking down your pants and spanking your
bare bottom, now
that
would break our truce.”

Claire drew in her breath. The idea that he
might spank her bare never occurred to her. She wriggled and bucked
frantically while struggling with her deeply ambiguous emotions. On
one hand, she felt desperate to avoid the spanking, while on the
other she knew she’d be deeply disappointed if he backed down.