This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (2 page)

Alec put down the paint roller and wiped his forehead on the back of his arm. Man, he was beat. He had forgotten how grueling physical labor could be. Sure, he worked out six days a week, not to mention daily dance practice, but painting walls made
him discover muscles he did
not
know he had. Every bit of his body throbbed, but at least he had gotten the job done. The south wall was painted red, and the other three were white. Now, all he needed was to wait for the paint to dry so that he could add a silhouette of a tango couple against the red background. That ought to complete the ambiance.

He opened the small fridge and reached for a bottle of orange juice. The cool liquid soothed his parched throat. Holding the now half-empty bottle, Alec walked over to the window to check out his new view. All in all, he was happy with his new digs. The rent was reasonable, and the view was not bad either. From the top floor he had an unobstructed view of Second Avenue. Not exactly the
poshest
of locations, but it would do. In a couple of days, once the paint smell aired out, he could move in.

For the past two years, he had been shacking up in an old warehouse in the meatpacking district. Jason, his school buddy had let him stay there rent free. The place was perfect: plenty of space for dance practice and no neighbors to complain about Alec blasting his music too loud. But now that Jason was “retiring” from his investment banking job and reinventing himself as a bartender, he needed the space back in order to start construction for his bar. Alec was not picky when it came to living quarters, as long as he had plenty of open space, which was why when the real estate agent had shown him the top floor, converted loft on Second Avenue and Eightieth Street, he had signed the lease immediately.

One thing he had not counted on was fussy neighbors. Alec smiled, thinking of the unexpected
morning visitor
. “Claire,” he mouthed her name, remembering her tousled chestnut hair and hazel eyes. Even that bulky bathrobe she had been wearing could not conceal the shapely outlines of her body.

Of course, a girl like that was bound to be a challenge. But he had always liked challenges, and the fact that he was a professional tango dancer usually played in his favor. Usually, but it might not be so this time. Alec winced, remembering Claire’s reaction to his innocent question about her music taste.
What was all that about
? he wondered. As far as he was concerned, no one could resist tango. Well, he would get to the bottom of Claire’s music idiosyncrasies in due time, but in the meantime, he needed to think of a way to become more neighborly.

“Think of the devil,” Alec murmured, taking another gulp of orange juice as he spotted the subject of his thoughts exiting the lobby.
Someone must have a hot night planned
, he thought, his eyes examining every detail of Claire’s outfit, which was far more flattering than the bathrobe he remembered from this morning. Now, she was dressed in a little black number that fitted her body to a T. His instincts had been right; from long, shapely legs to a firm, flat stomach to wonderfully full breasts, her body was downright perfect, and the way her chestnut mane bounced down her back made Alec want to get to know his neighbor better.
Heading out for a night on the town
, Alec mused. It was Saturday night after all, and he was glad to remark the absence of a male companion by Claire’s side. Suddenly, his new building looked even mo
re appealing.

Chapter 2

As she exited the lobby of her building, Claire had a funny feeling that she was being watched: the eerie, nagging sensation one gets when being stared at. She looked around, but seeing that the street was empty, she attributed her discomfort to the dress she was wearing. It was new, and to her mind, way too revealing. She had bought it at her friend’s,
Amber’s,
suggestion, and now she wished she had opted for a different outfit. Claire pulled on the hem of her dress that barely covered her mid-thigh. Usually, she never wore skirts above the knee, but Amber had insisted that she look super-hot for the party. There would be fashion models and movie starlets, and if Claire were not careful, David’s eyes just might wander, Amber had cautioned her. Claire had laughed Amber off. It took more than flashy looks to impress David, but she had bought the dress nonetheless, along with a set of
Spanx
, which was now pinching her behind mercilessly.

Claire could hardly believe her eyes when she spotted an empty cab heading her way. She waved her hand, instantly checking for possible competition. The simple act of hailing a cab could easily turn into a battle on the Upper East Side.

“Mercer and Houston,” Claire gave the cab driver the directions and leaned back against the car seat. She opened her purse and checked her reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time. Normally, she was not one to fuss about her looks, but when it came to David, she wanted to look perfect.

She had been dating David Lawson for almost a year. Eleven glorious months to be precise, and at times, Claire still could not believe that of all women David had chosen her. After all, David Lawson had not been hailed New York’s most eligible bachelor by the tabloids for no reason. At thirty-three, David had the world in the palm of his hand: blond, six three, with rock hard abs and a smile that could melt the snows of Antarctica, he was the sole heir to the Lawson real estate empire. His father, Allan Lawson, owned half of Manhattan, and David was to follow in his father’s footsteps. He had just recently been promoted to vice president of Lawson Enterprises, and everyone knew that one day, sooner rather than later, David would run the company. Sure, the fact that he was the owner’s son contributed to his advancement in the firm, but David had proven himself fair and square by learning the business from the bottom up, putting in long hours, and most importantly, coming up with groundbreaking ideas. But all of these impressive attributes were not the reason why Claire Chatfield was swept off her feet by David Lawson. She was not impervious to good looks and money, but she looked for much more in a man, and she had found it in David: he was kind, reliable, and he took great pride in his profession.

But eleven months ago, all Claire knew about David Lawson was that David was a handsome heir who charmed his way through life. His womanizing reputation preceded him, so when David approached her at one of Amber’s mixers, Claire had pretty much blown him off. She had been polite, but that was where it ended, and when David tried to get her number, she feigned an excuse and left the party.

Her surprise was too big for words when, upon coming in to work the next morning, Claire found two dozen white roses on her desk with a note from David. Her fingers trembling, she dialed Amber and shared the mind-boggling news. Somehow, the idea of receiving flowers from David Lawson did not quite fit into Claire’s mind. Who
sent flowers these days? Of all the men she had dated (granted, there had not been that many) this was a first for her.

“That’s because David is a true gentleman,” Amber had countered, “and it was really stupid of you to blow him off last night. He really liked you, you know.”

“Somehow I doubt that David Lawson has a shortage of dates,” Claire had retorted. “And I’m not about to become his next one-night stand.”

“Well, I think you’ve made that perfectly clear. Hence, the flowers. Just don’t overdo it, okay?”

“You mean there’s more to come?”

“I imagine he’s going to ask you out. That’s how men usually act when they like a girl, not that you’d have any idea with the hermit lifestyle that you’ve been practicing.”

“I’m very happy with my life, thank you very much.”

“Just go out with David already, okay? I’m a PR agent, not a matchmaker. It’s bad enough he had to call me to get your phone number. I don’t want to be the messenger between the two of you.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go out with him to get him off your back, but that’s where it ends.”

“Aha. Let’s wait and see what you’ll be saying after your date with him.”

At the time Claire had scoffed at Amber’s reply, but her friend’s words turned out to be prophetic after all. It had only taken a handful of dates for Claire to fall for David Lawson.

Lost in her reminiscences, Claire did not notice that the cab driver had already reached the destination and was waiting to be paid. She quickly handed him the fare, ran her hand over her hair one last time, and opened the car door.

“Claire, there you are!” David was by her side as soon as her feet had reached the curb.

“David.” Her heart surged as she wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s neck.

“I’m so sorry you had to trudge over here in a cab. I was stuck at the office.”

“That’s all right.” She smiled dreamily at him, thinking that as long as she wound up in David’s arms, she did not care how she got there.

“Let’s go inside before it gets too crowded.” David pulled her closer to him, and feeling sec
ure with his arm on the small of
her back, Claire followed.

“Claire! There you are!” Amber air-kissed her on both cheeks. “Isn’t this a great turnout?”

“As usual, you’ve outdone yourself.” Claire surveyed the vast crowd, spotting familiar faces she remembered from ads and magazines.

“By the end of the evening, Club Metro is going to be the hottest club in town.” Amber shook her platinum blond hair with exuberance. “And, of course, I have to thank two of my closest friends for supporting me.” Amber flashed David a playful smile. “Having David Lawson as a guest at an event immediately raises the hotness status by two hundred percent.”

“Well, you’re looking hot enough to light this place up all on your own, Amber.” David pinched Amber’s cheek.

“Such a tease!” Amber giggled, her lashes batting playfully over her sky-blue eyes. “You two go upstairs, into the VIP lounge. I’ve got to work the grind here.”

“We’ll see you later, Amber.” David flashed one of his dazzling smiles, reaching for Claire’s hand.

“By the way, Claire, you look awesome in this dress,” Amber whispered. “Aren’t you glad you let me talk you into buying it?”

“Thanks, Amber. You’re looking great yourself.” As usual, Amber was not to be outdone. Dressed in a sequined mini-dress that clung to her lanky, model-like body, she looked like she was wearing a gown of melted silver.

Upstairs, they were immediately whisked into a VIP booth, where a bottle of Dom
Perignon
awaited them in an ice bucket.

“Pretty swanky, huh?” David uncorked the champagne without
so
much as
a
whisper of a sound. He poured the sparkling liquid into Claire’s glass and filled his own. “Here’s to my girl.”

Claire smiled and lifted the glass to her lips. She loved it
when David called her his girl -
there was something so sweetly old-fashioned about it.

“So, how was your day?” she asked him.

“There was only one good thing about it: looking forward to seeing you.” David squeezed her hand, and Claire thought she was going to literally melt under his gaze. He had had this effect on her ever since they met, and at times, she wondered if she would ever start taking David for granted. At the moment, it seemed impossible. “And that’s all I care to say about my day at the office on a Saturday.” David grinned. “How was your day, baby?”

“I had the craziest morning.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“I got a new neighbor, and he was playing his music really loud...” The image of Alec’s bare torso materialized in Claire’s mind as she remembered him moving to the sensual tango music. Flustered, she halted into silence. Here she was, sitting across from the most desirable man in all of New York and most likely in the world, having ridiculous thoughts about her impertinent neighbor.

“There you are!” Amber sidled into the seat next to David.

For once, Claire was glad of Amber’s interruption.

“Aren’t you two going to dance?”

As if on cue, a deafening blast of techno filled the room.

Claire glanced at the empty dance floor and shook her head. “Oh, you know us, Amber. David and I don’t dance.”

“That’s right.” David nodded. “I can think of far better things to do with my girl than grinding on the dance floor.”

Even David Lawson had an imperfection. It was his utter lack of rhythm and musical timing - a flaw that Claire had found most endearing when she had overheard David singing in the shower. David took care to stay off the dance floor, and Claire adored him all the more for it.

“Suit yourselves.” Amber rose from her seat. In her usual devil-may-care fashion, she approached a Calvin Klein underwear model whose picture Claire remembered from a billboard. In no time at all, the two were in the center of the dance floor. Amber’s body slithered this way and that as she pressed herself against the taut, muscular body of the underwear hunk, undaunted by the fact that they were the only couple dancing. Of course, that did not remain the case for long. Ever since her cheerleading days in high
school, Amber had possessed an uncanny ability to get people to do what she wanted, and she did not fail now. In a handful of moments, the dance floor became flooded as everyone in the room rushed in to follow Amber. Everyone but David.