This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (30 page)

Out of the corner of his eye, David noticed magnificent yellow roses that the store had begun stocking upon his request a few months back, and he looked away. He wondered what Claudia was doing this very minute. Had she already forgotten him or did she too long for the passion that they had shared? How he ached to place an order for two dozen yellow roses, as he did in the blissful days that had come and gone like an unexpected boon. If he had his way, despite all the hurt and betrayal she had inflicted on him, he would forgive Claudia in a moment, if only there were a chance of them reuniting. Alas, these musings were merely wishful thinking, as David had to be on his best behavior. His future as the heir of Lawson Enterprises depended on it.

Thanks to his father’s lawyer’s efforts, Maury
Wysotsky
had agreed to nix any further reprints of David’s and Claudia’s photographs in
Flashlight
. As per his father’s orders, David had removed himself from the day to day operations of Lawson Enterprises until, as his father had put it, “the messy business dies down.” David’s removal from the business was labeled as harnessing David’s strategic capabilities. His supposed new task was reassessment of existing strategies in order to outline the course of new business
ventures for Lawson Enterprises. In reality, David found himself with more spare time on his hands than he could handle. Right now, he wished for nothing more than to be busy at the office. Instead, he loitered in his apartment, poring over meaningless spreadsheets, waiting for his father’s forgiveness.

To make matters worse, Ryan Fink, Jr. of Fink Corporation was mocking David from the pages of every major newspaper. First, the bugger had prevented David’s father from buying up Fink’s property, and now, he was setting a striking contrast to David’s disgrace by becoming a social good-doer. He was turning one of Fink’s properties into a museum – a move that David’s ex-fiancée was responsible for by discovering that a crappy warehouse in Tribeca that no one gave a rat’s ass about for years was a rare example of architecture created by a disciple of Gaudi. David wished he had listened to Claire blabbering about this nonsense when he had the chance. Perhaps he could have persuaded her to give up the whole idea. As it was, his ex-fiancée was now touting the horn of his competitor – a fact that David’s father glowered about daily.

There was no other choice. David had to get Claire back and forget Claudia. He only wished he felt something other than career pressure to add to his motivation, but no matter how hard he tried, he came up empty-handed. Notwithstanding all the disgrace that Claudia had put him through, David could not forget her. Each day he thought of her more and more. His longing for Claudia was sustained by a few mementos of their time together, the cover of
Flashlight
magazine being the last and final addition to David’s collection. Despite the chaos that the photograph had brought into his life, David studied the image obsessively. The intense passion on Claudia’s face captured in the image meant only one thing – her angry parting words had been a front. She had loved him, and perhaps she still did.

Chapter 29

It was almost ten o’clock at night when Claire walked up the front stoop of her building. She might have shirked her work during the day, but she had more than made up for it by staying late at the office. Not that she found this strategy efficient, by any means. She swore to herself never to indulge into two-hour lunches again, no matter with how handsome the caller. She did get the work done. The first draft of her report to the
Landmarks Preservation Commission
was almost finished, and she was fairly confident that she would have the final version by the end of the week, and as for handsome callers… Claire had put Alec out of her mind, or to be more precise, banished any thoughts of him as soon as they entered her mind, which, to her chagrin, was pretty much nonstop.

From the mortifying fiasco of their “date” to his handsome looks, Alec had pretty much monopolized Claire’s thoughts. The only upside to this vexing development was that Alec had edged David out of Claire’s mind completely. In fact, Claire was shocked to realize that she had hardly given David a thought throughout the entire day – shocked because until a few days ago, she was set to marry the man, and now, she would not even give him a second thought. Of course, she had a perfectly good excuse not to. David was a lying pig and not at all the knight in shining armor he had appeared to be, but in his defense, Claire would not even give him a chance to explain himself… And David had tried, really hard. After his unsuccessful plea by Claire’s doorstep, he had been leaving her daily phone messages and sending her flowers accompanied by imploring notes to forgive him, but Claire would have none of it. A small part of her could not help but wonder if her reaction would have been the same without Alec being there to distract her. Or even more alarming, if David had not fallen from grace, could she herself have been guilty of the same wrongdoing? There was no denying it. From the moment Claire had barged into Alec’s apartment, her striking neighbor had sparked something inside her. She might have banished the feeling into the background of her thoughts, but it had stayed there, and every time she ran into Alec, Claire fell under his spell.

If asked to define her relationship with David prior to the
Flashlight
fiasco, Claire would have said
solid
. But now she wondered if
solidity
by itself were enough
. Certainly, one wanted stability in a relationship, but one also wanted passion and romance and spontaneity; yet, David cared for none of these things, at least not while he was with Claire. And now that the initial hurt of David’s betrayal had abated, Claire could not help wondering whether she had been saved by the bell, and whether instead of resenting Claudia Block for rivalry, Claire should be thanking her for deliverance.

Once inside her apartment, Claire strained her ears for hints of music. Ever since her complaint to Alec, he had hardly troubled her, and tonight was no exception, as Claire was greeted with si
lence. She wondered if Alec was
out at a bar, chatting up some leggy blonde, or perhaps embracing a gorgeous tango dancer on a dance floor, moving effortlessly to a
milonga
rhythm. What would it be like to be swept by the powerful music with a man like Alec holding you, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand claiming your hand, his hips touching yours?

Claire shook her head. She had to get these ridiculous thoughts out of her mind. If anything, today’s date had made it clear that she and Alec were about as compatible as oil
and water, but she still needed to be able to interact with the man in order to get
Castelan’s
photograph for the exhibition. Besides, they were neighbors, and unless she wanted to risk making a complete idiot of herself the next time she ran into him, she’d better accept the fact that her relationship with Alec was going to be nothing but that of a civil friendship.

What she needed now was a long, hot shower to wash away the tumultuous day and a good night’s sleep. With any luck, tomorrow she would wake up with Alec gone from her mind.

Just as Claire was about to head into the bathroom, her phone rang. She scanned the caller id, but the number was displayed as unavailable. Normally, she would have let it go to voicemail, but her parents were away in Italy for her father’s research on his academic paper, and Claire thought that it might be them. Because of constrained funding, her parents’ lodging had only the most basic of conveniences, and the phone was not one of them. The last time they had spoken was several weeks ago, when she had still been engaged to David Lawson.

“Hello?” Claire tried to calculate the time difference between New York and Italy. Were they five hours ahead or five hours behind?

“Finally!” Amber’s voice rang triumphantly in the receiver. “I thought I’d never get through to you.”

“Amber, where are you calling from?”

“I had to get a spoof card to get you to pick up. I knew it would work.”

“Yes, it worked, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here and listen. I can’t talk right now, or ever, for that matter.”

“Claire, wait. Please don’t hang up,” Amber pleaded. “I’m sorry for being such an ass. Please wait.”

“I’m listening.”

“I called to apologize. This whole thing with David is a mess, but he really loves you, Claire. Please give him a chance to explain.”

“Whoa. Why don’t we backtrack to the part where you were trying to cover up for him?”

There was
a loud sigh on the other side of
the line.

“I only found out about it that day, and the only reason I agreed to help David out was that I really believed that that photograph was meaningless.”

“Yes, well, it looked pretty meaningful to me. I guess Claudia Block must have attacked him and forced her tongue down his throat.”

“Come on, Claire, don’t be so bitter. It’s not like you.”

“It’s not like me to be made a fool of either.”

“You’ve got a point there, but at least hear David out. Give him a chance to tell you his side of the story.”

“Did David put you up to this?”

Amber hesitated for a moment. “He asked me to talk to you, yes.”

“Don’t you think that you’re taking your representation obligations a bit too far? You’re a PR agent, not a matchmaker.”

“That was low. And for the record, I no longer represent David. His father made him fire me.”

“And you’re hoping David will hire you back if you get me to change my mind?”

“No. That’s not why I’m calling you. Claire, we’ve been friends since forever. I don’t want you to make a huge mistake. David can offer you a dream life. So he slipped, but who is perfect? Loving somebody means being able to forgive him.”

Claire paused. Amber’s question
made the truth obvious to her. Sure, no one was perfect, and if she wanted to, Claire could find a way to forgive David. But the simple matter of the fact was that she did not want to forgive him, not because of the hurt that David had caused her, but because she did not love him, never really had.

“I’ve got to go, Amber. It’s late and I have an early day at work tomorrow.”

Knowing only too well the objections that would follow next, Claire hung up the phone, unplugging it for the night. Any emergencies would just have to wait until tomorrow morning.

It was a little after six in the evening on Monday when Alec left the photo atelier. He was carefully carrying two manila envelopes: one contained the original photograph of his great uncle and the other, a copy for Claire. Of course, Alec could have gotten the photograph’s copy ready for his fi
r
st meeting with Claire, but then he would not have had a reason to call her again, and now he did. The atelier owner had outdone himself. The copy of the image was masterfully restored, without any of the pesky cracks and faded spots that littered the original.

Alec hoped that Claire would be pleased. It had been five days since their lunch date, and Alec had not heard from her since. He had toyed with the idea of calling Claire, perhaps asking her out on Saturday night, but decided against it. Alec did not know where he stood with Claire, and rather than jeopardize the shaky status of their acquaintance any further, he decided to wait until he had a legitimate reason to call her.

When Alec got home, he placed the manila folder intended for Claire on the table and put away the original photograph into the photo album where it belonged. Then he picked up his phone.
Enough beating around the bush.
He was going to call Claire. He had thought about what he was going to say to her during his walk home. It was a pleasant ten-block walk made even more so by an unusually temperate evening for a New York summer – a perfect night for a romantic stroll. Perhaps, if he found the right words to say to Claire, she would agree to go for a walk with him. Alec knew just the place where he wanted to take her.

Enough
, Alec thought
. The more you think about it,
the more likely you’re to choke
. He was about to dial the number when he realized that he had never actually gotten Claire’s number. All of their previous interactions had been in person, consisting of either Claire barging into his place, or him bumping into her in the building or knocking gingerly on her door.

When he was a freshman in college, during one wild night at a nightclub, Alec’s buddies had a bet to see who could get the most girls’ phone numbers. Alec had won hands down by getting close to fifty numbers that night. Since then, he never had a problem getting a woman’s number. Just how he had managed to strike out with Claire, he was at a loss to explain. Well, that only left one option. He would have to see her in person. Of course, he could simply slip the photograph under her door, but it was not a pizza delivery special or a circular to be handled so carelessly. Besides, the only way he could ascertain that Claire had gotten the photograph was by giving it to her himself.

Claire paced the floor of her apartment. It had been an exhausting day at work, but she was too wired up to be tired. The good part was that she had finished her report for the Commission ahead of time. That was what having no love life did to you. It made you excel at deadlines, but the bad part was that now she had to start organizing the Castellan exhibition. She had spoken with Professor
Barnardo
this morning, and he assured her that the library had agreed to lend
Castelan’s
letters for the exhibition. The Fink Corporation had also been extremely helpful in organizing the event and had acquired an impressive collection of architectural drawings and models as well as photographs and manuscripts for the exhibition. The planned exhibits would more than
suffice for the event had Claire not been foolish enough to open her mouth about the one-of-a-kind photograph of
Castelan
she had discovered and suggest using the photograph as the centerpiece. Now she cringed at the thought of delivering on her own suggestion.