Let Me Count The Ways (16 page)

He shrugged. “It’s not gonna kill them to warm up for a few extra minutes. If you need to talk, they can wait.”

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at the gesture. “But you should get down there. I just need to figure a few things out, that’s all.”

“Well, that’s for certain,” he said as he got to his feet. He glanced at the briefcase Mike had forgotten. “Want me to take that downstairs, leave it at the front desk?”

“No, that’s okay,” I said quickly, laying a hand on the worn leather.

Derek shook his head in disapproval. “All right. If you say so.”

“Thanks,” I repeated, continuing to smile until the door closed behind him.

My hand absently stroked the leather briefcase. Mike’s voice and the anguish in his eyes haunted me.

Why me, Claire? Was there anything about me that attracted you?

How did you answer a question like that? Why would he even ask it? I slid the case closer, turning it ‘til I could grip the handle. I imagined Mike’s hand clenched here, holding it just so... as though I could somehow intuit what he’d been thinking.

A few minutes later, a burst of applause from the studio below drew my attention. I got up and glanced through the glass. Derek was on the floor doing push-ups. One handed. While a bevy of leotard-clad women looked on, cheering and counting. It wasn’t hard to imagine what that was all about. He always exacted a penalty for lateness. No doubt his students had decided to do the same to him.

I suppose I should have felt just slightly guilty about that, but I didn’t. A couple dozen extra push-ups wouldn’t do him any harm. In fact, he was probably enjoying himself.

“Show off,” I muttered affectionately, watching until, his penance completed, he jumped to his feet. He wasn’t even out of breath.

“All right, let’s go.” He clapped his hands together briskly. “Places, everyone.”

As Derek’s class scurried into position, I went back to my desk. Without doubt his biceps, freshly pumped and lightly sheened with sweat, would be compelling his students to make an extra effort today. They’d probably exert twice as much energy as usual in an attempt to impress him.

Just as I would have once.

I thought about that for a moment, remembering how Derek’s arms had felt locked around me. How they’d supported me while I balanced above him. How they’d caged me while I lay below him. They’d felt nice. Damned nice, in fact. But, strangely, I felt no sense of loss, no pang of regret.

Nice, yes, but nothing I couldn’t live without. Whereas Mike...

He wasn’t hot or flashy or young. He wasn’t influential or connected. He wasn’t wealthy--certainly not by Hollywood standards. He wasn’t... oh, so many of the things I’d looked for in a man over the years.

Maybe I’d been looking for too many of the wrong things?

“You old fool,” I muttered as I stored his briefcase out of sight beneath my desk. “I wonder how long it’ll take you to miss me.”

In the end, I gave him twenty-four hours. For most of the first twelve, I was sure he’d call; sheepish, penitent, eager to reconcile. Of course, for most of that same time, I was asleep and likely dreaming. By noon I’d resigned myself to the reality.

Obviously, if anyone was going to fix things between us, if would have to be me.

Mike

I was surprised to find Claire waiting for me when I got home from work Friday evening. Surprised and more than a little confused by her care-free smile, by the relaxed way she leaned against the side of her little white Lexus convertible, by... Oh, hell, let’s face it. I’d been nothing
but
confused for three full weeks now.

The only difference was that now I was angry, too.
You don’t know what the woman wants
, I reminded myself.
Could be she’s just toying with you.

Frowning cautiously, I got out of my car and walked over to where she stood waiting for me. She was dressed all in white--to match her car, I supposed--in a snug, white tank top that made it almost impossible not to stare at her chest and slim, white pants that molded to her body and ensured that her breasts were only the first things you noticed.

“Hello, lover,” she said cheerfully. “Miss me?”

I had, of course. But there was no way I’d admit it. “Claire. What are you doing here?”

Her lips pursed in a little moue as she slid her hands up my chest and over my shoulders. “Now, what kind of greeting is that?” she pouted, dismissing my query in turn. My hands found their way to her hips--and I’d swear it was of their own volition--even as she locked hers behind my neck. Then she hit me with her best come-hither gaze, her softest murmur, her most inviting smile. “Well?”

Fool that I am, I caved, giving her what I knew she wanted, kissing her for all I was worth. My fingers tightened on her flesh and, at their slightest urging, she willingly canted her hips into mine.

Her lips parted, inviting me in, and I was unable to resist. I deepened the kiss, plunging my tongue into her mouth, thrilling to the sweet play of her nails along my nape. A growl emerged from my throat and I tugged her closer, banding her against me. Another moment and I think I would have taken her right there in the drive.

“Mmm. That’s better,” she purred, smiling slyly as she disengaged.

“What are you doing here?” I repeated stubbornly, when I could speak again.

Claire sighed. “Is that all you can think to say?” Twisting around, she reached into the car behind her. “Here.” She lifted my briefcase from behind her seat and presented it to me. “If you must know, I thought you might want this back.”

My hands reached automatically to take it. “Thank you,” I muttered, partially in dismay. “You didn’t have to do that.” In fact, I kind of wished she hadn’t as I’d planned on using its retrieval as a pretext for seeing her on Monday.

“Well, of course I didn’t
have
to, Michael,” she replied, arching an eyebrow at me. “Since when have I ever done that? I do things because I want to, don’t you know that by now? Anyway, here.” Reaching back into the car, she pulled out two medium-sized, brown paper bags. “Take these, too.”

The bags, surprisingly hefty for their size, were warm and smelled faintly of garlic. However, their folded-over, stapled-down tops, which seemed to present no difficulty for Claire, offered precious little for my fingers to clutch. “What is all this?” I grumbled, juggling bags and briefcase as I struggled for a better hold on them.

“Dinner,” she replied, already turning back to the car once again. This time the back seat gave up a large, Coach tote bag. “I hope you like Italian?”

“Sure, I...” I stopped juggling and stared at her in surprise. “You bought me dinner?” That made two times in a row! The fact was just slightly unsettling. It’s not that my masculine pride is such that I insist on paying every time I share a meal with a woman. But most of the time is certainly not too much to expect, is it?

“Well, no, actually, I bought
us
dinner,” she replied, oblivious to my discomfort until, after slipping the tote’s strap over her shoulder, she turned back around to face me. Her eyebrows rose. “What’s with the face, Mike? You’re the one who insisted on ground rules. Remember? We agreed we wouldn’t see anyone else? So, when you didn’t call me, I figured we both were gonna end up eating alone tonight. That doesn’t sound like much of a plan for a Friday night, does it?”

“We said we weren’t
sleeping
with anyone else.” Even as the words left my mouth I wondered what in the hell I was doing. Only an idiot would choose to split hairs like that. Especially since I preferred her version better anyhow. But, fair was fair, and
she
was the one who’d insisted we could be nothing more than friends. “I hope you know I’d never suggest you curtail your social life like that on my account, Claire. You can eat dinner with whomever you want.”

“Why, thank you,” she replied, eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “’And, as it happens, that’s just what I’m trying to do.” She glanced pointedly at my front door. “So? Are you going to invite me in?”

“Of course,” I murmured politely, taking a step back and gesturing for her to precede me. “After you.” But it seemed my manners were at an exceptionally low ebb. As we made our way toward the house I couldn’t help asking, “What’s Derek up to tonight?”

Claire slanted me a puzzled glance. “I have no idea. Why?”

I shrugged. “I just wondered why you weren’t eating with him.”

At that, Claire stopped dead in her tracks. The tote she’d been carrying hit the gravel with a thud. I stopped as well. Turning, I found her glaring at me; nostrils flaring, her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes bright and angry. She was breathtaking, in a fiery, furious sort of way, even if I was almost too annoyed to notice.

“Mike Sherman. Am I hearing this right? Are you telling me you think I drove all the way out here for no other reason than because I couldn’t find a single person in all of Los Angeles willing to eat dinner with me?”

“That’s not what I said at all.” Even though I strove to keep my voice as cool as possible, I could feel my temper spike even higher in response. When had I
ever
suggested any such thing?

Eyes narrowing, Claire eyed me suspiciously for a moment. “Ah. So this is about Derek? Well, make no mistake, Mike, if I’d wanted to eat dinner with Derek tonight, that’s exactly what I’d be doing.”

This time, I think I failed to mask my emotions. I’m sure she read the skepticism in my gaze. A bitter little smile curled her lips.

“Even if he
is
head over ears in love with that blonde he’s seeing, Mike, if I’d asked him to dinner tonight, he’d have made time for me. I can assure you of that. In fact, if I wanted to use him as nothing more than a piece of arm-candy for the evening, Derek would have been
happy
to oblige me.”

“Just as long as you realize that’s probably the best use you could have for him,” I replied dryly.

Claire snorted in response. “For Derek? Hardly. If you really want to know the truth, Mike...”

“I don’t,” I said, interrupting quickly, before she could launch into a litany of praise for her former stud-muffin. “I think we’ve already wasted more than enough time on the subject.”

We eyed each other for a moment in silence. I waited for her to remind me that it was I who’d brought up the subject in the first place. But, once again she surprised me. “Fine. As it happens, I totally agree with you.” She sighed. “I want you to understand something, Mike. I drove out here tonight for one reason and one reason only.”

I waited.

“Yesterday’s little
scene
notwithstanding, I happen to enjoy your company and I wanted to spend some time with you. That’s it. Now, are you going to be able to accept that, or am I going to pick up my bag, get back in my car and go home?”

“Stay,” I replied, not certain which part of the question to respond to. “Please.”

Claire nodded and bent to pick up the tote she’d dropped.

“I owe you an apology,” I murmured, wincing inwardly as I thought about yesterday’s scene--and tonight’s.

Claire froze. Her gaze snapped to my face. “For...?”

I shrugged. “For all of it. Yesterday. Today. I behaved badly. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Claire sighed as she slid the bag’s strap back on her shoulder again. “I think we both overreacted a little. Hopefully, we can put it behind us now and move on.”

“I’d like that,” I said, although I was still uncertain as to exactly
where
she saw us moving on
to
, given her previous avowal that she wanted nothing to change. However, since voicing that sentiment now would likely result in her leaving, I said nothing.

“Good,” Claire replied, all smiles again. “So, let’s go already. Before that food you’re carrying gets any colder.”

As we fell into step once more, I couldn’t help but remember the first time Claire had been here. I think I was more nervous now. I’d been in shock that other night. I had no idea what to expect and was trying hard to keep my hopes down. Tonight, both my hopes and my expectations were soaring high.

I opened the door and let Claire in. Her eyes immediately assessed the room, just as they’d done the first time. I’m not inordinately house-proud, I don’t think, but the approval in her gaze and the smile on her lips made my heart swell with pride and satisfaction like nothing else could have done. It was all I could do to keep from murmuring, ‘welcome home’.

I’d no sooner put the bags containing our dinner down on the kitchen counter when an impatient squawk from the spare bedroom reminded me that we weren’t alone.

“Do you mind if I take care of Zoe before we eat?” I asked. “She’s been on her own all day and she really likes company.”

“Of course not.” Claire smiled eagerly. “Are you going to bring her out here? I’ve been looking forward to getting reacquainted with her.”

When I returned to the kitchen, a few minutes later, Claire had set the table and was already plating our food. I paused for a moment, grateful for the pinch of Zoe’s talons against my shoulder. No, I wasn’t dreaming. The cozily domestic scene unfolding before my eyes was real. I sighed happily.

Claire glanced up. Her eyes went immediately to my shoulder, her entire face lighting up as she smiled. “There’s the baby,” she cooed. “Hi, Zoe, remember me?”

The feathers rose on the back of Zoe’s neck. She twisted her head around to the side and gazed at Claire curiously.

“I think she does.” I don’t know why it surprised me. How could anyone forget Claire?

“Do you want a treat, sweet girl?” Claire asked as she picked up a breadstick and headed towards us.

Without warning, Zoe launched herself from my shoulder and instantly plummeted toward the floor. I lunged and caught her before she hit the ground.

Claire stared at me in alarm. “Mike?”

I smiled tightly. “Well, I’d say that confirms it, don’t you think? She obviously remembers you.”

“But what’s wrong with her? Why can’t she fly? Is she hurt?”