HIS By Design -Coveting Claire (2 page)

To her, he was still the nice guy she could turn to
for advice and comfort – the uncomplicated friend she could count
on.
Only he no longer felt that way. 
Not since before she left for New York, three years ago.  For
months, he’d fooled her, playing the platonic friend when in fact
he wanted nothing more than to take her as his lover – and more,
much more.  But he couldn’t do that.  He had to put his
guard up, not let those emotions overtake him.

They’d kept in touch, emails, texts, a
weekly Skype. As a fashion designer, he made trips to New York and
they would have lunch together. Dinner if she wasn't seeing
someone. Overall, her move to New York seemed to provide him with
the distance he needed. He could manage how he felt when he saw her
in the flesh just a few times a year and only had to deal with her
digital presence the rest of the time.

A presence that far too often left him
rattled, restless, rampant.

On the nights of their weekly Skype, he’d be
mesmerized by the sight of her lips, the swell of her breasts, the
cascade of her long, golden tresses as she absently shifted them
from side to side while she animatedly shared her news. Sometimes
he had to fake their conversation because he lost track of what she
was saying as he imagined crushing her against him, taking her lush
lips with his own, darting and invading with his tongue inside her
sweet mouth and other sweet places.

Most weeks he just took a cold shower
determined to stick to his decision not to cross the line of
friendship. Not to venture into the minefield of love and depth of
emotion that he knew his coveting of her could make so dangerous.
He couldn’t risk that. He couldn’t go there again. But some nights…
Some nights, he allowed himself the luxury of imagining her in his
bed. He would slowly undress her, leaving her hair to the last,
taking the pins out one by one. He could almost feel its silkiness
falling around them both. See the golden waves spilling across his
pillow. Hear her voice heavy with desire as his name flowed
tremulously from her lips, swollen and throbbing with his
kisses.

Those nights he held her in his embrace, her
naked softness pliant and arching in his arms. Her full breasts
crushed against his chest by his unyielding possession of her. The
honey between her thighs dripping into his mouth and welcoming his
entrance inside her. He even went so far as to imagine her sweet
ass at his mercy. Fully available to the erotic cadence of his palm
as it brought a beautiful blush to the vulnerable, pale flesh of
her rounded buttocks.

Those nights he put away from him. Kept them
separate from reality and the simple workings of the plan he’d so
carefully designed.

Then things changed. Their contact lessened.
The weekly calls dwindled until it was a couple of months since
their last Skype. He struggled with missing her, telling himself it
was for the best. Desperately trying not to give in to the jealous
imaginings of who was keeping her too busy to keep in touch. When
she called claiming to be the bearer of good news, he prepared
himself for the inevitable.

Only it wasn't.

She wasn't calling to announce impending
marriage. She was coming back to L.A.
Choices
was branching
out and starting a local edition in Los Angeles. Tomorrow she’d be
back, here. Here around him. Every day. Lost in his thoughts, he
found himself back at the window, looking out into the darkness.
 Leaning against the glass, he propped it up with one shoulder
in that pose that is so peculiarly and eternally masculine.

The elevator carried Claire to the sixth
floor. She walked quietly over to the partially opened door of the
studio and looked in.  Expecting to find him bent over
sketches or intent on fabrics, she planned to sail in and announce
herself with a loud flourish.  She’d been anticipating his
surprise and pleasure all the way from New York, but now, catching
sight of him against the darkness of the window, something made her
hesitate. 

At first, she was unsure of the reason and
then it dawned on her. He was standing in exactly the same manner
as when she first saw him. It was another one of those gatherings
her father delighted in having her attend with him. A regal affair
in a massive ballroom with chandeliers and a sweeping staircase.
Studded with various celebrities and flashbulbs popping, it was
hard to focus on any one thing or any one person.

Until she saw him.

She noticed him at once as they entered the
ballroom. He stood apart from the rest of the crowd against the
window with the late evening sun streaming through the glass behind
him. She found it difficult to take her eyes from him, drawn by the
drama of his detachment. To her, a romantic eighteen-year-old, he
seemed like a young Greek god dramatically aloof from the mortals
who inhabited the rest of the room. Then an older, elegant,
dark-haired woman moved towards him and he reached for her.
Desperately. He drew her close with such poignant tenderness that
Claire was forced to abandon her romantic fabrications and become
intensely aware of his humanity. Later, during a visit to the
restroom, she overheard the reason behind the touching scene she
witnessed.

"Did you see them by the window? It's so sad.
They're so happy together." Claire recognized the voice as
belonging to the wife of one of her father's editor's. "Poor
Susanna"

The second voice was also familiar as Andrea
Saunders. "It's Julian I pity the most."

There was soft surprise in the other woman's
voice. "Andrea, it's Susanna who's dying"

"That's just it. She'll die and he'll be left
to mourn."

"Why this sudden concern for Julian? You've
always disapproved of him."

"No, I disapproved of Susanna marrying him. A
boy in his twenties and her in her forties." Despite the slight
censure in her first words, a rich fondness entered her tone as she
continued. "Unlike some others, I never thought he wanted her for
her fame or money. It was always obvious to me that Julian adored
her."

It suddenly dawned on Claire why the
dark-haired woman was familiar. She was Susanna Ainsley - an
A-list, highly popular and critically acclaimed film star and one
of the power women of Hollywood.

There was a pause before Claire heard
Andrea's voice again. "He's young and he cares for her so much, I'm
not sure he'll be able to handle her death. Losing her will be hard
for all of us close to her, but at least it’s not a shock. We knew
this could happen." A silent sorrow seemed to hang in the air and
then Claire heard Andrea's hushed tones. “She never told him, you
know. He’d no idea up until now. No wonder he’s so stunned."

"I suppose she should’ve told him, but I can
understand why she didn't. She's been in remission for years. You
know, I...I think she was quite right. This way they’ve had four
years together with no shadows hanging over them. What I don't
understand is why she insisted they come today. He looks so
lost."

Claire heard Andrea
murmur with indulgent affection. "Well you know Susanna, always
determined to live life to the fullest. She’s still very much alive
and it’s not as if they just found out today. She told me she
didn't want him grieving until necessary.”

"Doesn't seem to be working, does
it?"

No, but it might in time and it’ll help
her to stay in the mainstream as long as possible. She so loves the
limelight."

I guess..."

Embarrassed by
overhearing and intimate conversation, Claire had stayed in the
cubicle until the conversation faded away in the distance.
Throughout the rest of the party she studiously avoided Susanna and
Julian.  In her youthfulness she’d no desire to meet head on
the issue of intense love in the shadow of death.  She was
relieved when her father decided it was time to leave and if he
considered her unusually quiet on the drive home he failed to
mention it.

The summer passed without further contact
with the Wests and by the fall, she was too involved with her first
college year to give thought to the couple.  By the time
Susanna Ainsley West's death was reported in the media, Claire had
little time to spare from her own grief.  Ironically, the
issue of death that she attempted to avoid the summer before
touched her intimately at an earlier age than it did Julian
West.  After a stroke, Claire's father was laid to rest in the
same cemetery where Julian buried his wife barely a month
before.

Claire stood there remembering that gathering
eight years ago. For the first time since then, she was suddenly
struck by the classical perfection of his profile. From this
distance and in the semi-darkness, the laughter and worry lines she
knew were around his eyes and mouth were not visible and his skin
appeared as smooth as the marble sculpture he resembled. His
physique was as strong as ever and he was still lean-hipped
although his chest and shoulders had broadened as he moved into his
thirties. Smiling fondly, she noted that his dark hair was still
refusing to be tamed by the hairstyle she knew he adopted for that
very purpose.

Looking at his masculine beauty from a
distance it crept slowly into Claire’s consciousness that he was by
far the most handsome man she knew. She found herself wondering why
she was never sexually aroused by him. He was far better looking
than Richard. Oh no! Here she was at it again. Damn this sexual
awakening of hers! Now it was even invading her friendship with
Julian.

Just then, Julian turned his head. Catching
sight of her, he pushed away from the window and walked to the
middle of the room flicking the main light switch as he went.
 His face held a questioning look as if unable to place her.
As the light illuminated her it was immediately swept away by a
look of recognition.

"Claire, what are you doing here?"

Claire's heart sank. He didn't seem very
pleased to see her although it was hard to tell from the
emotionless mask that'd come down almost as soon as he recognized
her.

***

Behind the mask Julian drank in the sight of
her.

She looked taller. An illusion created by her
position on the slightly raised dais at the entrance and the
elegant court shoes she wore on her feet.  His gaze traveled
from them up her shapely, slender legs to the hem of her dress that
draped curvaceous hips, emphasizing her slim waist, blossoming over
full, firm breasts, revealing the sensuous curve of her white
throat.  The dress could've been made for her, and Julian
wondered if she was on his mind when he designed it. He retained
his hold on his expression, but he was not as successful with his
inward emotions.  Her skin was pale compared to the golden
beauties who filled the west coast. It gave her an ethereal
appearance that was enhanced by her wide, grey eyes. She’d grown
more beautiful he thought and even more desirable.

Walking up the couple of steps to stand in
front of her, he thrust his hands in his pockets to stop them from
reaching up to remove the pins from her upswept hair, so it could
slip down and lie like strands of gold against the curve of her
cheek.  As he drew closer, the scent she wore drifted towards
him.  It was faint and unfamiliar and he wondered if he were
to bend and place his lips to the soft pulse of her throat if he
would recognize it.

"Julian?"

The sound of her voice made him collect
himself.  What was he doing standing in front of her like a
love-struck fool!  He moved aside allowing her access to the
steps.

"Come in.  Would you like a drink?"

He moved past her to a drinks table against
the wall in the small seating area apart from the rest of the
studio, glad of the actions necessary to prepare the drinks.

"Yes, a gin and tonic would be nice if you
have some."

Claire wandered around the room watching him
as he mixed the drinks, unwittingly repeating the same motions he
went through half-an-hour before.  

Julian's cursed his attitude aware it had
confused her.  He’d appraised her in a fashion he knew she was
used to from men. She was aware men found her attractive. At least
he’d managed to mask his gaze -t looking into his eyes she would’ve
been unable to detect even a trace of desire.  Why should she?
 This was Julian. They were merely friends.  Reaching his
drafting table, she saw the sketches he’d been working on.

"I'm not disturbing you, am I?  I know
I'm a day early."  She accepted the drink he handed her.
 "But I thought you'd be pleased to see me."

During the intervening minutes Julian had
composed himself and he was anxious to establish the familiar
rapport that usually marked their meetings.  He’d be seeing
her more frequently now and if he wasn't careful she’d begin to
suspect.

"Of course I'm pleased to see you.  Just
surprised, that's all.  But then, I believe that was your
intention."  Teasingly, he ran his thumb up and down her
cheek.

Claire moved away. It was the kind of gesture
he’d made often in the past and it he did it to reassure her of his
continued friendship. Turning back, she caught him looking at
her intently.

"What's the matter? Do I have a spot on my
nose?"

"No.  It's just that dress.  It's
one of mine, isn't it?"

Leaning back against the worktable, adopting
an artificial pose, she said sotto voce.  "Of course, darling,
I never go anywhere unless I'm in a West."

He grinned, relaxing, her little performance
releasing the tension in the air.

"Hiring that ad agency was the best thing I
ever did.  I sometimes think after their promotion it wouldn't
matter what I designed."

"Oh no, Julian.  Your designs are
wonderful.  They're so comfortable. The way the fabric falls
they practically caress you."  He smiled as she attempted to
control the flush that was creeping up her neck suddenly
embarrassed by her choice of words.  "I don't know why I never
wore them before."