Chances & Choices (5 page)

Uneasily, he began to realise how insidiously love for her was infecting him. 
It was then he began to fear what that could mean – how vulnerable he could become.  After a number of months, the strain of guarding his emotions began to tell, and for once Andrea's frankness was welcome.

Alone with her among the crowds who frequented her parties, she was congratulating him on a particularly good review of his latest collection.
 He, on the other hand, was watching Claire who was in a group further away.

"You're in love with her, aren't you?"

He didn't even bother to pretend.  "Is it so obvious?"

"To me, yes.
 Others, I don't know, but certainly not to her, which is all you care about."

 
She broke off to greet some latecomers and after they moved away, asked him.  "Why don't you want her to know?"

He took a sip of his drink while he thought of a suitable excuse.
  "She's too young."

Andrea was not convinced.
 "She's a year older than you were when you married Susanna."

He didn't answer.
 He wasn't prepared to admit his true reasons even to himself.  Andrea pursed her lips then, surprisingly, changed the subject.

"I was in New York, last week."

"Oh, how was it?"

"Pleasant.
 I met John Banks.  Do you remember him?"

"Yes, he's a few years older than me, but we went to college together."

Andrea took a sip of her drink, and Julian got the distinct impression there was more to this than discussing mutual acquaintances.

"He's looking for a junior addition to his staff at
Choices
.  Someone mentioned Claire's name; he asked my opinion."

Julian breathed deeply.
 
Choices
was the latest success story in lifestyle magazines; it was the dream of every young feature writer, Claire included, to be recruited by them.  He tried to keep his voice unconcerned. 

"What did you tell him?"

"That I was unfamiliar with her professional capabilities, but knew her in other respects to be a pleasant and capable young woman.  He said he would contact her."

Julian swallowed and put his half-empty glass down; suddenly it didn't taste very good.
 "I suppose it would be as good a solution as any."

"You'd let her go?"

"I hardly have much say in the matter."

Andrea abandoned her unusual attempts at subtly and returned to her normal outspokenness, although she kept her voice low.

"I suppose you imagine you're being gallant.  Well you're not.  Look at her.  At the risk of sounding crude, she's ripe for the plucking.  If you don't take her some other man will."

The idea of Claire with another man was so unwelcome, Julian did something rare for him; he was rude.
  "Shut up and mind your own business, Andrea."

She was equally rude.
  "You're a fool!"

Remembering, over three years later, and in the light of Claire's confidences, he couldn't help but agree with her.

Leaving the deck, he walked through the house to his bedroom.  Jutting out past the living room, it possessed a west-facing window, allowing a view of the ocean.  Despite the king-size bed, there was still a great deal of room, more than enough for two people to move around.  The rest of the south wall, where he had entered, was taken up by a roomy, double closet, which despite his large wardrobe, his clothes did not begin to fill.  In each adjacent wall there was a door.

He entered the one closest to him and looked around the room.
 It was filled with various, personal articles telling of its masculine occupant.  The other bathroom was empty.  Despite the fact that it was clean, he could detect a faint musty smell – the smell of disuse.  He opened the window and re-entered the main room.  Lying down on one side of the bed, his arms behind his head, he looked across at the empty space beside him and thought of Claire asleep in the next room.

Rising, he walked back out to the deck and stood listening to the ocean, a vague feeling of self-recrimination washing over him.
 He resented the intensity of his own nature – his tendency for an all or nothing abandon and deep passion. Suddenly, he felt a hardening resolve overtake him. Did he have to be like that? His feelings were no longer as intense or as passionate as those that devastated him at Susanna’s loss. Every day since, for eight years, he had practised restraint, distanced himself from emotion, schooled his features and habits to provide a guard against such vulnerability. 

Claire
in her innocence and child like nature had fooled him, managed to sneak in under his guard, but he knew now.  Now, he could temper his feelings, be in command, only allow a manageable depth of quiet, safe emotion. He smiled, satisfied with his reasoning. In the very early hours of the morning it dawned on Julian that fate had dealt him a second chance; and this time he would play his hand differently.

Claire stirred; then awoke, uncertain why.
  The clock on the bedside table said eight-fifteen, but she knew it was not its alarm that wakened her.  A night owl, she always found it difficult to wake up and on Saturdays indulged herself by sleeping late.  So what was different about this Saturday?  Turning from the clock, she discovered the culprit, as it streamed through the window, causing her to cover her eyes.

Cursing Julian's predilection for sunlight that resulted in a total disregard for the intended function of blinds, she threw off the covers and headed for the window.
 Fully intending to let down the blind and return to bed, she was stopped by the sight that greeted her through the window.  Maybe Julian’s respect for sunlight wasn't so eccentric.  It was the warm sunshine, combined with the excellent irrigation system supplied to California via the Columbia River Dam that allowed the glorious garden in front of her to flourish practically year round.

Petunias of almost every shade imaginable coupled with nasturtiums growing in the shaded areas, allowing their colours to reach a greater vividness than in the sun.
 Beautiful, but poisonous oleander shrubs grew beside jacarandas not yet in full bloom.  Opening the window, she inhaled the delightful scent of lilacs, their purple and white flowers perfect foils for the vibrant red and orange of the bougainvillea climbing the trellised garden seats that flanked either side of the window.

Winter indeed!

The direction of her thoughts reminded Claire she wanted to go for a swim and all thoughts of returning to bed left her.  Julian might think her crazy to venture into the cold waters at this time of year, but they wouldn't be much colder than the Atlantic of New England in summer and the idea of an early morning swim appealed to her.

Searching her suitcase, she found and donned her bikini.
 Towel in hand, she moved quietly through the house, not wishing to disturb Julian's sleep.  Reaching the shore, she lay down allowing the waves to wash over her, acclimatising her to the temperature of the water.

 
Phew, it was certainly refreshing.

As her body temperature lowered, she ran diving into the waves then stood, allowing them to batter her around.
 Catching one large wave, she rode it back to shore, lying face down; the calming effect of the ocean washing over her.  She had missed the surf.  She contemplated future fun with a boogie board, maybe she would even take up surfing again.

 
Rolling over onto her back, she found her thoughts moving backwards in time over the last few months.  Since Julian had made his blunt statement last night, she had realised he was probably right in his assessment of her relationship with Richard.  No doubt she'd known it herself, but was just afraid to admit it.

Lust.

It sounded so crude.

It wasn't that Claire was ashamed of her sexuality it was just that she would like to think it could be expressed in a more refined manner.
 Like love, for instance, or at least affection.  Looking back, she admitted there hadn't been much affection between her and Richard.  In fact, there were times when she felt she actually disliked him.  Yet she had found it so hard to break away from him.

And what of Julian himself?
 For over three years he had felt more than friendship for her and she had no idea.  He certainly hid it well.  She blushed when she thought of all the times she had paraded in front of him in a skimpy bikini, asking him to oil her back.  She chuckled when she thought of him harbouring secret desires for her, the idea a balm to her wounded pride.

Was that why she had wanted him to take her to bed last night; to salvage her pride as he had suggested?
 Probably, but it wasn't just that.  Her thoughts over dinner had opened up new horizons and her reaction to him was a perfectly normal one to a man she now found attractive.  At least there was certainly affection between them, and trust.  Channelling her desires in his direction was not too bad an idea - who knew what else might grow between them.

"Come in and have some coffee before you turn blue."

Julian's voice startled her out of her reverie and she discovered she was becoming chilled.  Draping the towel around her, she followed his figure across the beach and through the glass doors leading into the kitchen from the deck.  The mug felt warm to her cold hands and she took a sip before appraising her benefactor.

He was dressed casually in a red, open-necked, knit shirt and jeans, which seemed moulded to his lower half.
 Assessing him, she tried to decide whether she liked him better dressed this way or in the more formal manner of the night before.  Both had their merits.

 
This way she had a better view of his attractions.  The form-fitting shirt showed off the muscles of his well-developed upper body; no doubt from playing tennis and racquetball and, of course, swimming.  She had participated in those sports with him often in the past and come a cropper against his powerful backhand many times.  Idly, she wondered who partnered him now, hoping it was another man.

Collecting her thoughts, before they digressed too much, she continued her mental debate over his dressing habits.
 Viewing him as he turned to refill his coffee mug, she decided the jeans definitely flattered his back view better than formal pants.  But dressed formally, he was also attractive.  He had excellent taste, and his suits were classy rather than stuffy.  And somehow they spoke of a latent virility that was really quite exciting now that she thought about it.  Taking one final inspection, she decided he was just plain sexy no matter how he dressed.  Her decision must have shown in her face because Julian spoke to her in dryly amused tones.

"If you've finished your appraisal and I have finally met with your approval, perhaps you could go and change."

Claire smiled saucily and climbed up on one of the stools at the breakfast bar.  "Why?  Don't I meet with your approval in my present mode of dress?"

Obviously deciding to play her at her own game, he reached across the wood that separated them and brushed the back of his hand across her bikini top.
 

"It's wet, you could catch cold."

Claire inhaled her breath, mentally conceding him a point.  But in her eyes, the game was far from over.  She bent her elbow on the counter, cupping her chin in her hand.

 
"I thought you didn't want me warmed up."

Laughing, he rested his arms on his side of the bar.
 "Don't you think it's time we called a truce?"

"Okay," she agreed deceptively before sliding her arms around his neck.
 "How do you suggest we seal it?"

He kissed her gently on the lips and then straightened, obviously intending to go no further.
 Claire didn't push him, removing her arms from around his neck, sensing he had become serious.  He didn't look directly at her when he spoke.

"Look, Claire, it's not that I'm averse to a change in our relationship, it's just that I think it's too soon after..."

He paused and Claire supplied rather wryly.  "My lusty experiences in New York?"

He looked at her then with reproachful amusement.
 "I have a feeling you're not going to let me forget that remark."

Claire didn't reply, merely taking a sip from her coffee, but her eyes supported his comment, promising future reprisals.

"You're right though, that is what I mean.  I'd rather not be used as rebound material."

Claire protested, “Julian, that’s not the reason.
 Do you find it so hard to believe I'm attracted to you?"

"No, but you're confused right now."

Claire became exasperated.  "I'm old enough to know my own feelings.  I don’t need you to explain them to me,” conveniently forgetting that she had relied on his judgment only the night before.

But Julian didn't remind her, his answer only slightly impatient.
 "I don't care how old you are.  No one can completely assess their emotions under pressure, and you've been in a stressful situation for a number of weeks.  All I'm suggesting is you take a breathing space."