This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (17 page)

Claudia shook her head. She had not thought of her benefactor in years. That’s what old age did to you. It made you think of places that were long gone and people who were long dead.

Evan’s death brought on a fierce struggle. One successful picture was barely enough to secure one’s hold in Hollywood. If she were not careful, Claudia would become yesterday’s news overnight. This time, Claudia decided to go in for the kill. If she were going to sell her youth, she would sell it to the highest bidder. For almost ten years, she was the girlfriend of Roy Masterson, the studio head, and the rest, as they said, was history. At sixty, Roy was twice a widower. On numerous occasions, he had proposed to Claudia, but she refused him repeatedly, fearing that if she accepted, the fate of Roy’s former wives would befall her as well. At seventy, Roy finally joined his spouses in the world beyond, wherever that might be. At times, Claudia wondered whether both of Roy’s wives had waited for him patiently, whether the three of them were reunited in blissful harmony in the afterlife, if such a thing existed.

After Roy’s death, Claudia was finally free to choose her own lovers, and boy, did she enjoy them. Not even thirty yet, she was stunningly beautiful, and men went absolutely gaga for her. And then, out of nowhere, came of the age of ma’am. It had snuck up on her like a thief in the dark – a wrinkle here and there, a subtle softening of the flesh, a slight drooping of the lips. There were fixes, of course – if not to restore her body to its previous glory, then to at least stall its demise. For a while, she had thought she had succeeded. What a rouse! Alas, she had failed. Her last lover had left her for a younger woman. The worst part of it all was that Greg was twelve years her senior, but apparently, fifty-one was too old for a sixty-three-year-old man who dated twenty-eight-year-olds. This had been Claudia’s first defeat, and she was still reeling from the blow.

There was David, of course.
Such a sweet, lovely boy.
How he adored her! It was pure ambrosia for her bruised self-esteem. And Claudia could not deny it – she did enjoy her time with him. But she dared not allow herself anything more serious than enjoyment. She had entered an age when it was best to take things one day at a time.

Chapter 17

Claire woke up and rolled over on the other side of the bed – the side where David usually slept when he spent a night at her place. It was Friday morning. She had taken the day off to spend it with David, but after his abrupt departure last night, the day loomed before her with its emptiness.

With a sigh, Claire got up and headed for the kitchen to turn on the coffee maker. When David and she first had started dating, they would often stay in bed until noon when spending a day together. Afterwards, they would have breakfast and browse through the morning papers. Claire felt something inside her tighten as she thought of those simple, quiet mornings. She loved the sense of dependability and safety that David projected. One could always be sure that David Lawson would make no crazy moves.

So why was it that she was getting a hollow feeling in her stomach now? Could it be that her relationship with David had gotten too routine? Claire frowned, as she realized that she and David had not made love since their engagement. More than three weeks had passed since. Granted, some of it was her own fault. She had been so busy at work that she had not given David much thought in the past few weeks. But David was equally culpable. At times it almost felt that their relationship had become another item on David’s daily agenda, somewhere between morning meetings and client dinners.

In the quietness of the empty kitchen, Claire could hear faint sounds of tango coming from upstairs. The sound of the music was barely audible, but Claire could still discern it. No doubt, if David were here with her, she would not have even noticed. But as it was, she heard every whisper of a sound. Claire strained her ears, trying to make out the additional sound she thought she’d heard. There it was – the tapping of dancing feet.
Two pairs of feet, to be precise.

The image of Alec and his rail-thin, blond girlfriend flashed in Claire’s mind with razor-sharp vividness. What was the girl’s name? Sabina
Peskova
or
Freskova
.
Some exotic Eastern European name.
In any case, it did not really matter.

Alec took a deep breath. The stifling heat of the apartment was turning the dance practice into an excruciating torture.

“Concentrate, Sabina! Your timing is completely off.” Alec immediately regretted losing his temper. Criticism was not his method; rather, he always preferred to encourage his students by pointing out what they were doing right instead of focusing on what they were missing. But today it seemed that Sabina was doing everything wrong.

“I’m sorry, Alec.” Sabina’s shoulders drooped. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

“It’s all right. Let’s just take a break and cool down, okay?”

Alec fidgeted with the newly installed air conditioner. The contraption had cost a small fortune, and the sales clerk had assured him that the machine would be powerful enough for the entire apartment, but unless one stood within a foot of the blasted thing, it provided no relief whatsoever. And Alec needed cooled air to dance. How was one supposed to follow the rhythm of tango in sweaty, sticky heat? Perhaps he should have thought twice before renting an apartment on the top floor. Heated by the June sun, the roof turned Alec’s loft into an oven.

“How about some lemonade?” Alec opened the fridge and reached for the pitcher.

“Sure.” Sabina moved to get the glasses.

“I got it. You just sit down and relax.” Alec poured the lemonade and added extra ice. He definitely needed extra ice to keep his temper in check.

“So, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He handed Sabina her glass.

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired. I worked late last night…”

Alec simply stared back, refusing to dignify Sabina’s lame explanation with an answer. If he knew anything about Sabina, he knew that she never missed a beat when it came to tango. But today, she had been stumbling like a first-year novice, and her timing was all off. Even the hellish heat could not account for such lapses.

“I spoke with Nicholas. His visa got denied again…”

“Sabina, I’m so sorry.” Alec squeezed the girl’s shoulder. Now he felt like a total jerk. It was bad enough that Sabina had been separated from her husband for over a year. Alec did not have to make her life harder.

“I know. I’m sorry too. I just miss him so much. I really hoped that this time he would finally be able to come here, and we would compete together…”

“Well, the tournament is six months away. There is still hope.”

“Yeah, right. Even in the best of circumstances, we would not have enough time to train. Why can’t they just let him in?”

“I don’t know, Sabina. I wish I had the answer.”

Claire plunked the week’s mail on the kitchen and started sifting through it. As usual, there were several bills in the pile, and she made a mental note to pay them later in the day. Just because her love life was in a rut did not mean that her credit scores had to follow suit. She was about to get up for a second cup of coffee when an oversized ivory envelope caught her attention.
What could this be?
Claire wondered as she tore open the envelope.

Mr. and Mrs. Allan Lawson

request the honor of your presence

at the marriage of

Claire Chatfield

to their son, David Lawson

on Saturday, the first of June

Two thousand and thirteen

at four o’clock in the afternoon

St. Paul’s Church

Westchester, NY

Reception to follow

Inside was a note:

Dear Claire, I took the liberty of putting together a sample invitation. I sent a copy to David as well, but knowing how busy he is, I wanted to send you one as well. Please let me know what you think.

Love,

Sylvie

For several minutes Claire stared at the invitation in dumbfounded stupor. She was not sure what shocked her more – the fact that David’s mother had gone on with planning the invitations without consulting her (apparently Mrs. Lawson had also picked the wedding date while she was at it) or the fact that David had not mentioned anything about the invitation.

It was so quiet in the apartment that when the phone rang, Claire jumped up.

“Claire? It’s Stephanie.”

“Hi, Stephanie.” Claire hoped that her voice sounded neutral, as she deliberated whether to mention the wedding invitation to David’s sister.

“Listen, I was just chatting with Mom, and she told about the wedding invitation. I really hope that you won’t take offense. She was just trying to be…” Stephanie paused. “Proactive – yes, that’s the best way to put it.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I have to admit that I was a bit surprised, but it was a good surprise,” Claire added lamely. This was the best she could do at the moment.

“Yeah, well, I’ve got to say that you’re taking the whole thing rather well. If I were in your shoes, I’d be pissed. What did David say?”

“Well…” Claire stalled to come up with a diplomatic answer. “I haven’t actually talked to him about it yet, but I’m sure he’s gotten his copy in the mail.”

“Don’t you worry. He’ll talk to Mom and settle everything. I mean, the two of you might want to elope. Mom’s got no business butting into your wedding plans.”

“Oh, I don’t know about eloping.” Claire twirled the phone cord. “David made it pretty clear that the wedding would have to be an official affair.”

“Well, as long as the two of you are in love, it doesn’t matter where the wedding is, right?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“You guess so? You’re a riot, Claire. Listen, I’ve got to run, but I’ll be in the City next week for a modeling gig. Thanks for hooking me up with Amber. She really came through. I’ll ring you up then, all right?”

“Sounds good, Stephanie. I’ll see you then.”

Claire hung up and stared at the photograph of her and David that stood on her dressing table. The picture had been taken a little less than a year ago, when they first started dating. Back then, David used to call her every day. She got up from her chair and dialed David’s cell number, pacing the floor. As had been the norm lately, the call went straight to voicemail.
David, call me back as soon as you get this. We need to talk.

Chapter 18

“Wake up, sleepy head.”

David opened his eyes and smiled at Claudia’s face leaning over him. He had taken Friday off work in order to spend it with Claire, but when Claudia called him last night, he had abandoned his plans without any hesitation.

“Good morning.” David had to blink twice to make sure that he was not dreaming. Finally, after months of sneaking around in hotels, Claudia had agreed to come to his apartment. And Claudia had stayed the night – something she had never consented to before. Well, technically, it was not an entire night, as the two of them had slipped into David’s building through the service entrance at three a.m. (David had previously obtained a spare key from one of the doormen for just such an occasion), but it was a start.

Last night had been a blur of drinking. For the first time, Claudia had agreed to brave being seen in public w
ith him, and from Village to
SoH
o
, they had painted the town red. Of course, there had to be precautions. Claudia wore a brunette, cropped wig to conceal her golden mane, and David donned tattered jeans with a T-shirt and an old sports jacket that he found in the back of his closet. They became the perfect imposters, yet David had not felt more real in months. He might have donned a disguise, but when he was with Claudia, he wore his heart on his sleeve.

“Go and shower, baby. I’ll make breakfast.” Claudia kissed him on the cheek.

“There are a few things I can think of that are way better than breakfast.” David kissed Claudia’s neck.
God, the woman smelled good
.

“Yes, but first, breakfast. When I stay the night with a man, I always make him breakfast in the morning.”

David had to make a conscious effort to refrain from singing in the shower. To think that Claudia Block was cooking him breakfast this very moment was almost too much happiness to bear. It was not the breakfast itself that he cared about, of course, although he was so hungry, he could eat a horse. Keeping Claudia satisfied was a calorie-consuming endeavor. It was the thought of her attention that sent him leaping off the ground. No woman would cook a man breakfast unless she truly cared for him. Of course, Claudia did mention that she made breakfast for every man she stayed the night with, but David refused to let this uncalled for tidbit of information spoil his mood. Sure, Claudia had had plenty of lovers before him, but they were all gone now, and he had her all to himself.

For weeks, he had dreaded Claudia dropping him like a toy she’d gotten bored with. He had tried so hard to make her care for him that he never bothered to think what he would do if he succeeded, but now that he had finally achieved his aim, David was both elated and terrified. Elated to know that this very moment Claudia was making scrambled eggs for him, or perhaps an omelet, but terrified to think that in a year he would be married to Claire, with Claudia forever barred from his life. Sure, the two of them could try having an affair, but David seriously doubted that Claudia would agree to it. She was not the kind of woman who would consent to share her man, even if the “sharing” would be purely nominal. But there would be plenty of time to consider the
future later. Right now, David had breakfast to look forward to, and then another long, steamy, lovemaking session with Claudia.