Chances & Choices (10 page)

He nodded.
 "Alright, I won't.  Let me think about it and I'll give you my decision soon.  Okay?"

She agreed, and they left the restaurant soon afterwards.
 Now, as he was driving home, he began to give his first serious thoughts to the matter.  He wasn't sure how he felt about it.  He refused interviews before because the request came from sensation seekers, but this wasn't the case with Claire.  He knew she would hardly splash his private life around in headlines six inches high.  The angle she suggested was acceptable to him, and it was true the publicity would come at a good time.  He had a lot invested in his new line and he wanted it to be a success.

Reaching his house, he pulled into the garage, still turning Claire's request over in his mind.
 Crossing the dining room he played idly with the keys in his hand and then tossed them a little in the air, catching them decisively.  Walking over to the phone, he picked up the receiver and pressed the speed dial for Claire's number.  She answered on the first ring.

"Claire.
 It's Julian.  I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No.
 I'm reading in bed."

It conjured up an enticing picture to Julian; he wondered what she was wearing.

"Julian, are you there?"

"What, oh, yes.
 I called to tell you I've come to a decision about the article."

"You have?"

"Yes.  I've decided to agree to it, providing that I see it once it's written and that it's only printed upon my approval."

"Alright, that's perfectly acceptable."
 Her tone was all business.  "I'll speak to Stella in the morning.  Could you check your schedule please and I'll call tomorrow to arrange a mutually agreeable time.

Julian repressed the urge to say, "Yes, ma' am," and instead agreed to do as she asked.
 But before hanging up he decided to change the mood.  Lowering his voice seductively, he said.  "Oh and Claire."

"Yes."

"Sweet dreams."

The receiver clicked in Claire's ear and she held it against her breast before replacing it, her eyes just a little dreamy.
 She snuggled into her pillows and tried to imagine the expression on Julian's face as he said those last words.  Smiling to herself, she turned off her lamp and within a few minutes was fast asleep.

Claire stood in front of her closet, attempting to choose an outfit she considered suitable for her interview with Julian that day.
 She spent most of the previous evening trying to decide without success, eventually going to bed without making a choice.  The trouble was everything in her wardrobe was just too...feminine.

She wished she still had some of those very practical business suits she had worn during her first year in the work force.
 They had all been very plain, lacking any feminine embellishments.  Not that her clothes were unprofessional these days, it was just that they made no attempts to downplay the fact she was a woman – quite the opposite.

She walked away from the closet and sat at her dressing table.
 So what, she told her reflection, you are a woman and Julian knows it.

Which was the whole problem.

 Supposing he didn't take her seriously?  No, she was being unfair to him.  Julian was not the type of man who considered women incapable of professionalism just because they were desirable.  Alright, admit it, she told herself.  It's not his attitude you're worried about, it's yours.  You're scared you won't be able to maintain professional objectivity around him and you'll end up making a fool of yourself.  She lifted her chin.  What if I am?  It's natural. And it's natural for me to use a little artificial defence.

Having defended her attitude to herself, she applied her make-up more simply than usual, using muted shades.
 Scraping her hair back, she pinned it at the back in a bun very differently from the soft upswept style she usually wore.  Satisfied, she selected a dark navy suit and pale blue blouse.  The skirt was short, falling in full pleats and the jacket was cinched at the waist with rounded corners and no lapels.  The blouse was a soft silk – another of Julian’s design.  The material fell in tremulous, cascading folds.  Normally she wore it with the buttons opened at the neck allowing the folds to entice the eye to the swell of her cleavage - today she buttoned it almost to her throat.

She surveyed her reflection once more.
 It wasn't exactly what she had hoped for, but it would suffice.  Slipping on a pair of high-heeled navy court shoes, she selected her matching purse and prepared to leave.

Stopping at her bedroom door, she turned back to the dresser and pulled out a pair of large framed glasses, placing them on her face.
 She smiled.  Now that looked much better.  They were clear glass - her vision was excellent.  She hadn't used them for years, but they had increased her confidence immensely in her first working year.  They had turned out to be a good idea.

Horrified, she snatched them off stuffing them back in the drawer, suddenly remembering who had given her the idea.
  She could almost hear the rich timbre of his sexy, knowing laughter sending shivers up and down her spine and all her hopes for objectivity melting into those gorgeous green eyes.  Congratulating herself on her narrow escape, she left for work.

She travelled with Greg in his car to Julian's studio.
 He would be staying for a short time to get a feel of the place for the photo session.  The magazine didn't have its own staff photographer yet and until they did Greg doubled in this capacity as well as writing.  They had agreed he would come with her in the morning, returning in the afternoon to take the photographs and collect Claire.

Claire had spent the last week working on her pre interview research for the article.
 Like herself, Julian had graduated with distinction.  The information did not surprise her, although she did wonder why he had never mentioned it.  She had been only too delighted to inform him of her achievement as soon as she found out, calling him from the college and blurting it triumphantly over the phone.

He had been taken on straight from college by one of the large designing houses, which catered to the stars as well as other wealthy women.
 Six months later, he met Susanna Ainsley.

After three years gaining experience, he decided to start out on his own, beginning on a small scale, with a yearly couture collection and two ready to wear lines directed at the high priced market. They had enjoyed moderate success and a few reviews named him as a rising talent.

Not surprisingly, his star had failed to rise any higher in the next year - the last year of his marriage to Susanna.  He more than made up for the lapse in the next year, throwing himself into his work with a vengeance.

His business expanded over the years to produce two couture collections each year and the full five ready to wear lines; spring, summer, transitional, fall and holiday.
 He was now firmly established as one of L.A.'s top designers and his name was also well respected in New York.

This year, as Stella had stated, he was engaged in a new venture; a new line directed at the younger market.

Claire had never been in his office building during normal working hours. It seemed quite different, lit up, with people milling around.  Riding up with the later morning elevator crowd, she tried to rid herself of the feeling that the other people were intruders.  Reaching the sixth floor, she automatically walked over to the studio door, surprised to find it locked.  Greg spoke behind her.

"The reception office is the next door, Claire."

Mentally kicking herself, she followed him as he entered the office next door to the studio.  Julian was sitting on the reception desk as he talked to a very pretty, young, blonde woman, who sat behind the desk.  Claire did not recognise her as the older, less attractive woman he had introduced as his secretary a few years ago at a Christmas party.

He was entitled to change his secretary, if he felt like it, but surely he would have been better to choose someone more mature and...Claire checked her thoughts when she realised she had been about to add...less attractive.
 This was not an auspicious start, she told herself, trying not to feel too pleased when she noticed the rings on the third finger of the young woman's left hand.

Julian looked up when he heard them enter, his eyes glancing towards Greg before settling on Claire.
 She looked different; it was the hairstyle.  It was severe, but it served to emphasize her beauty.  Only women with excellent bone structure could look as good as she did with her hair scraped back from her face like that.

He liked the suit.
 The dark colour was a perfect foil for her and it was just chic enough for business, the skirt stopping just short enough to entice.  He recognised the blouse from his previous season collections, although she was wearing it wrong.  It was all he could do not to give in to the urge to gather her against him and slowly undo the buttons so he could enjoy the sight of the silken folds perform as he designed, slipping seductively to outline the tantalising entrance to the swell of her full breasts.

She introduced Greg and Julian found he liked the younger man instantly; he probably had that effect on most people.
 He stifled a smile when he introduced Delia as she sparkled up at Greg.  She had been married recently, but that didn't stop her from continuing to be a shocking flirt.

She even flirted with him, making it difficult to maintain his normal policy of aloofness towards people he employed with her.
 He didn't mind; it was harmless fun and he had found her quick, efficient mind and her ability to charm an asset to his business.

As they turned to enter the studio she asked him.
 "Shall I bring you all some coffee, Mr. West?"  She cradled her chin in her hands, her head to one side, managing to make the offer sound suggestive.

"Yes, if it isn't any trouble."

"Oh, no trouble.  I'm not too busy."

Finding it impossible not to, he returned her flirtatious grin.
 "Thank-you."

Claire felt like slapping them both.

Julian opened the studio door, fully intending to put his arm around Claire's waist to usher her through, but something about her stance and attitude stopped him.  Instead he merely held it open to allow her to pass through before him, surprised by the defiant lift of her chin.  Greg walked in after her and Julian followed, closing the door behind him.

Claire placed her digital recorder on one of the work tables and brought out her pencil and pad.
 She seated herself elegantly in the chair beside it without crossing her legs.  Julian had a quick vision of a younger Claire in a situation he had not had the privilege of seeing going through the same motions in front of another interviewee; only in the vision he saw her pushing a pair of large framed spectacles back on her nose.

Surprisingly, it occurred to him she was nervous.
 For some reason he found her nervousness pleased him, but that did not mean he wished it to continue.  With the intention of allowing her to compose herself, he spoke only to Greg, showing him around the room explaining the purposes of the different areas.

Delia came in with the coffee, leaving the tray beside Claire, who thanked her with a very cool glance.
 The glance apprised Julian of another emotion Claire was experiencing, the knowledge of which also pleased him.  He and Greg joined Claire at the worktable, drinking the coffee.  The hot drink must have fortified her because she relaxed enough to cross her legs.  However, when she saw him observing the action, she uncrossed them again and sat up straighter in her chair.

After the coffee Greg left, saying he would return around two.
 Once he had left there was an uncomfortable silence, until Julian spoke.

"Why don't we sit over here?"
 He indicated the seating area.  It’ll be more comfortable."

"I'm quite comfortable here."

"Yes, but I'm not," he informed her, collecting her recorder and placing it on the coffee table between two armchairs, leaving her no alternative other than to follow him, which she did with barely disguised reluctance.  Sitting in the armchair opposite him, with the same stiff pose, she turned on the recorder and began the interview.

The questions she asked were fairly straightforward, encompassing a broad sweep of his career to date; verifying information she had amassed beforehand.
 The accuracy of her information impressed him, she had obviously done her homework.  What did not impress him was her continuing impersonal attitude.

As the interview progressed she relaxed, her nervousness disappearing, replaced by a self-confident aloofness which held him at arm's length.
 It surprised him at first, then amused him and finally he began to feel faintly irritated.

He interrupted her well-rehearsed spiel of questions in mid-sentence. "Why do you use a notepad when you have a recorder?"

Claire stopped and looked across at him meeting his eyes for the first time since the interview began.  Why did he have to ask something like that just when she was doing so well?  It was a perfectly harmless question, one she had been asked before, but coming from him in a circumstance where she wished to keep the conversation on a purely impersonal and business level, it seemed to take on familiar tendencies.