This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel (32 page)

Those were the only words of encouragement that he needed. In an instant, his mouth found hers again, as Alec resumed his caresses, making her moan. Claire knew she needed to get away. As much as she was enjoying the sensation, she was not yet ready for anything more than a kiss.

“Well, I think it’s time to say good night.” Alec held her face in his hands. “Tonight was wonderful.”

Back in her apartment, Claire lay in her bed with her eyes wide-open. It was well after one o’clock at night, but sleep was far from her mind as she kept going over the details of her evening with Alec. What a difference a few hours could make. Just this morning she had thought that she and Alec were an impossible combination, but her evening with Alec had
changed everything.

Still shaking, David slunk across the lobby of Claire’s building. It had taken extraordinary self-control to remain hidden in the mailroom while he witnessed Claire suck tongue with some bloke who looked like one of those escort types. The guy was practically oozing sex. The bugger had to be an unemployed shirker. No man with a respectable profession would ever wear his hair that long, but to David’s chagrin, the dubious employment status of his new rival only seemed to play to the bastard’s advantage, as it undoubtedly left him plenty of time to maintain his buff physique – an attribute that Claire was more than appreciative of.

As he climbed into a cab on Second Avenue, David gritted his teeth in vexation. It had never occurred to him that Claire would replace him so quickly. In truth, he had always thought of himself as rather irreplaceable, but then his experience came from dating other women, and Claire was most certainly not like any of the women he had dated before. For one thing, she had never been awed by his social status or money, and for another, she was much more intelligent than most of the women he had ever dated. Not counting Claudia, of course, but Claudia was in a category all of her own.

David hit the palm of his hand with his fist. Now was not the time to think about Claudia Block, not now, not ever. If he did not get his game on, Claire just might slip through his fingers for good, and then he could forget about his future at Lawson
Enterprises.

Claire plunked her purse on the floor. God, she wished it were Friday, but it was only Wednesday night, and she was exhausted. Work had been hectic, and her personal life was no better. David was still sending her flowers. Her apartment was beginning to resemble an orangery. After all, it was not the flowers’ fault, but the sender’s, and Claire simply could not bring herself to send them to their death. To make matters worse, every day, without fail, there was a message from David on her answering machine, asking her to give him a chance to explain.

Why was it that when you really wanted to hear from somebody, you never did? It had been three days since Alec’s
impromptu kiss, and Claire had not heard a word from him since. She knew it. She should not have let him kiss her. Now he probably thought that she was an easy catch and didn’t even deserve the courtesy of a phone call. Heck, he probably thought she would jump at his beck and call the minute he deemed her worthy of his attention again. Well, he was going to be in for a disappointment. That was, if the opportunity ever presented itself, for Claire realized that it could very well be possible that Alec had already forgotten about her. Who knew how many girls he kissed in the span of one week? If their last outing had been any indication, Claire saw for herself that Alec did not lack for female attention. Women in the bar were ogling him left and right, giving Claire dirty looks, adding insult to injury.

The reasonable thing to do was to put her incredibly hot neighbor out of her mind. Oh, and did she mention that he was also an incredibly good kisser? A far better kisser than David, for that matter. Not that it mattered. As far as Claire was concerned, both men were history. And if anything, one should learn from history. She’d certainly had enough heartache for one month. Come to think of it, it was enough heartache for a lifetime. It was time to get back to her original plan of staying off men – a proposition that should not be that hard to adhere to now that Alec was out of the picture. And what better way to start on her new resolution than ordering take-out and settling in front of the TV?

Of course, Claire could opt for a night of drinks with Lindsay, but that would mean more questions, and Claire was not in the mood to be questioned. Ever since she had started seeing Jake, Lindsay had become a self-proclaimed expert on dating. Just the other day, during lunch, she had been trying to convince Claire to stop by Alec’s apartment. As if Claire needed any opportunities for humiliation! Who knew what wild sexual bash she could barge into if she dropped in on Alec unannounced? No, thank you. She was perfectly content limiting her interactions with her upstairs neighbor to nonexistent.

Now, about that take-out order…
Claire was about to rake through the stack of menus piled up in the foyer when she noticed a slip of paper on the floor – probably another delivery menu. Why not give it a try? But when she picked up the glossy postcard, instead of a picture of barbecued ribs or sushi, she saw a photograph of a dancing couple. The woman was tilting back, and her long leg, exposed by the impossibly high slit of her dress, was hooked through that of her partner who was leaning over her.
Tango in New York at
The Red Carnation,
the postcard read. Instantly, Claire’s heart started racing. She flipped the card over and saw a note:

Dear Claire,

Will you join me for an
evening of tango at
The Red Carnation this Friday night at eight?

I h
ope to see you soon,

Alec

David stared at the ceiling of his father’s study. It was just like the old man to make him wait. The evening had started benignly enough with a family dinner, but David knew that the family gathering was merely a pretext for his father to read him the riot act later. And now, after having finished a five-course meal, which had been exquisitely prepared by the current home cook (David no longer tried to keep up with the help’s names, so frequent were his mother’s rearrangements of the household) David sat on his father’s creaky leather sofa.

Might as well get
myself a drink
, David mused as he made his way to the cabinet at the far end of the wall where his father always kept a generous stash of twenty-year-old scotch. David had already consumed the equivalent of an entire bottle of wine at dinner. A shot of scotch would be the perfect finishing touch to get him into the right frame of mind for a conversation with his father.

David poured three fingers of scotch into the glass and threw it down his throat. The liquid burned for an instant, its generous warmth adding much-needed boldness to David’s demeanor. He would need all the courage he could muster to deliver the message he had planned for his father. David was about to add another two fingers of scotch into his glass when the door opened, and his father walked in.

“Ah, I see you already got started.” Allan Lawson lowered himself onto the sofa. “Get me one too, will you?”

Obediently, David poured his father a drink and joined him on the couch.

“I’d say cheers, but there’s not much to toast to these days.” Allan Lawson downed his drink in one deliberate motion. “Or perhaps you have some news to prove me wrong, son?” Allan Lawson arranged his fingers into a steeple, glancing sideways at David.

David cleared his throat, willing the effects of the alcohol to diffuse. He had expected a lecture; instead, the old man had managed to throw him for a loop again.
             
“Well, Father, I was reviewing the performance of our properties. The occupancy rate is eighty-five percent, which, according to my sources, is above that of most of our peers, with Fink Corporation being the only exception at ninety percent.”

David swallowed. Fink’s name tasted like bile on his tongue, but he truly believed that he was on to something, and he wanted his father to hear it. “Only a few months ago, Fink’s occupancy rate was at seventy percent. Just last week, they signed on two major corporate accounts for ten-year leases.” David paused, wondering how best to word the fact that these were the very same accounts Lawson Enterprises had been courting for months. “It is my conclusion that the deciding factor in Fink’s occupancy increase is their highly-publicized involvement in public service. By turning one of their properties into a museum, Fink has been able to attract image-conscious clients. Furthermore, the museum status of the building will provide Fink with huge tax deductions for years to come. I believe that Lawson Enterprises can also benefit its corporate image by increasing the organization’s charity profile. I was reviewing the list of unoccupied properties, and there
are several properties that would be perfect as youth recreational centers. We could allow City schools free usage of the properties as well as provide the required supplies. Going forward, Lawson Enterprises could also offer sponsorship of subsidized housing. For example, for every new property Lawson Enterprises develops, a donation would be made to subsidized housing initiatives in the City. I’ve run the numbers. The tax allowances that would be granted for the donations would offset the majority of the costs and the benefit to the public image…” David broke off. At first, he thought he was having sound hallucinations, but the expression on his father’s face confirmed that David’s hearing was intact. Allan Lawson was roaring with laughter.

“My boy, you never cease to amaze me.” Allan Lawson dabbed his eyes with his thumb. “Did you really think that I needed your assessment of Lawson Enterprises’ operations?” Allan Lawson’s voice grew low. “I built this company with my own hands, and I know every inch of it inside out. ‘The occupancy rate is eighty-five percent, which, according to my sources, is above that of most of our peers,’” Allan mimicked David’s voice. “Do you really think I do not know how my company is doing?” Allan held David’s gaze. “That’s right,
my
company, and don’t you ever forget that. It is up to me to determine my successor and I - I alone - will decide when and if you’re fit to succeed me. That moron Fink may enjoy a brief rush of popularity, but in the end, this publicity stunt will get him nowhere. And all the tax breaks and the client signings won’t offset his bottom-line loss. That building
he
so generously turned into useless real estate is worth lots more than the hoopla publicity he’s gotten for it.” Allan grunted. “From you, my son, I expected more shrewdness, but then again, we learn from our enemies’ mistakes.” Allan drew a deep breath, visibly exhausted by his tirade. “But enough of business talk. The true reason I called you here today is to discuss your personal situation. I trust you have resolved your differences with that lovely fiancée of yours?”

David dug his fingernails into his palm. His father’s question was the reason why he had been fortifying himself with liquor all night.

“Actually, Dad, I wanted to talk to you about that…”

“What’s there to talk about, son? From what I remember, you never had any trouble with the ladies. Just tell her you’re sorry, and it’ll be as good as new.”

But I don’t love her,
David thought. Not
that such sensibilities
would matter to his father, so he’d better come up with something fast or risk another bout of laughter. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Father. I’ve tried everything – sent her flowers, left her voice messages, but Claire will not listen.”

“I wouldn’t put too much stock into that; she’s just trying to up her worth and teach you a lesson. It’s only been a few days. Give it a couple of weeks, and she’ll be crawling back.”

“I don’t think so, Dad.” David swallowed. He had to play his cards right or he’d never hear the end of it. “I went to see Claire last night, and she was with someone.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“I saw her kissing another man, Dad. How much more specific do you want me to be?”
And the worst part is that I was not even that upset about it
, David thought. Sure, he’d been pissed off initially, but his emotion was more akin to the vexation he experienced when seeing his usual garage parking spot occupied, as opposed to what a man should feel when catching the woman he was set to marry being groped by another man.

“And you just stood by and did nothing?”

“What was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Be a man for a change and knock that guy’s block off. That’s what I would have done. You do love her, don’t you? That whole business with the old broad was just for kicks, right?” Allan Lawson’s face turned an alarming shade of crimson.

David gulped. He could, of course, tell his father the truth, but as much as he hated the old bugger, he was still his father, and David certainly did not want to be responsible for his father’s heart attack. “It was nothing, Dad.”

“I knew it. Now, don’t you get upset over this nonsense. I know exactly what we need to do. You’ll hire a detective to follow Claire around and get some dirt on the new bloke she’s humping. And don’t you worry, the guy I use knows how to dig up dirt. Once Claire learns the truth about her new flame, she’ll be running back to you in no time.”

“There’s no need for that, Dad. I can handle it.”

“I’ve already seen your way of ‘handling it’, son, and the time is ticking. I’m
gonna
call my guy right now. He’s one of the best private investigators out there.”