Chances & Choices (22 page)

"Claire, what an idiotic thing to do!"

She did not continue when, peering through the space Claire did not occupy, she saw Richard and Julian.  Squeezing past Claire she headed for the lunchroom, throwing a muttered greeting in Julian's general direction.  Deserter, thought Claire, but she could hardly blame her co-worker for her quick exit from the highly-charged scene.

At the sound of Mary-Jane’s voice both men turned to face her.
  Claire looked at them.

It was the first time she had seen them together.
  Their differences were quite startling.

One so blond, the other so dark.
  Bright blue eyes next to green fathomless ones.  One in casual clothes worn with a devil-may-care attitude, the other attired in an impeccably cut, exquisitely tailored suit.  Richard dominating the middle of the room, arms crossed in a stance that demanded her attention.  Julian, leaning negligently against her desk, his pose enticing and gently beckoning.

The two men in her life.

Both so different.  Both claimed to love her.  Both held a fascination for her.  Was it possible she loved them both?  But she was only married to one.  Was it the right one?  She heard her own voice break the silence that was threatening to fill the room.

"Have you two met?"

Julian undid the lower button of his suit and slipped his hands into his pockets in one fluid gesture.  Claire watched him, fascinated; the easy grace of his movements conjuring up memories of his equally graceful movements in more intimate situations.

"Yes.
  We introduced ourselves before you came in."

She reached him and placed a kiss on his cheek.
  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Richard attempt to hide a scowl at the intimate smiles she and Julian exchanged.

"I was just telling your husband that it's difficult for me to think of you as anything other than Claire Fitzpatrick.
  I knew you so well in New York, and your marriage was so…sudden."

Claire was in the process of placing her soup and her brown bag lunch on her desk, but Richard's words so unnerved her, the cup slipped from her fingers, the liquid spreading in a menacing fashion towards Julian's seated figure.
  He moved leisurely, not jumping up as others might do in a similar situation.  Taking some tissues from the box on her desk, he mopped the spill.  He did so, thoughtfully.

Why was Claire so nervous?
  It was Blake's last remarks that disturbed her.  So she knew him in New York…a half-forgotten memory arose.  Himself sitting across from Claire; her head bent, her shoulders tense, her voice close to tears.  "I told Richard I thought it would give us both some badly needed space."  So that was it!  A fierce, possessive emotion arose in him, which he only just managed to subdue.  He spoke in an even tone.

"Not all that sudden, Claire and I have known one another for seven years."

"Yeh, but she was in New York three years.  A lot can happen in three years."

Julian felt the same fierce
driving emotion, much stronger this time, he struggled to control it, finally succeeded - only just - because of years of habit.  His drew from those resources and gave a slow and easy smile as his eyes rested on Claire, who was gazing in an abstracted manner at her overturned, empty cup, her colour heightened.

"I came to take you to lunch.
  Shall we go?"

She looked up at him as if being offered a reprieve.

"Yes.  Please.  Let's go."

They entered the elevator before Julian raised the subject.
  He was leaning against the far wall, the distance between them suddenly seeming to take on symbolic significance.  Inwardly seething, still in the grip of the fierce jealously, he nevertheless managed to keep his voice and expression emotionless

"Richard, I seem to remember hearing that name before."

Claire swallowed.  She didn't look at him, keeping her eye on the floor indicator.

"Probably, I daresay I've mentioned him."

"Don't play games with me, Claire."

She looked at him then, startled.
  His words were so similar to the ones Richard had spoken, less than a week ago, in this very elevator.  The memory of what had taken place before he said them increased her guilty expression.  Like his voice, Julian's face held no sign of anger or even annoyance; if anything, both were emotionless.  He didn't wait for her to answer; no doubt her expression confirmed his suspicions.

"Has he been making a nuisance of himself?"

"What makes you ask that?"

He shrugged as if the possibility of Richard's continued interest in Claire was unimportant to him.
  Perhaps it was.  The thought depressed her.

"He seems like the type of man who might."
  He shrugged again in the same unconcerned manner.  "But then, perhaps 'nuisance' is the wrong word.  Perhaps his attentions might not be unwelcome."

Claire stiffened in outrage; the glimmering of truth in his words firing her defensive attitude.
  "How dare you!"

The elevator doors opened as he broke into laughter, heads turning in the lobby at its deep, easy sound.
  There was no trace of bitterness in it; he was genuinely amused.  Claire knew she should feel relieved, but that knowledge did not make her feel any less disappointed.

Honestly, what did she want him to do?
  Forbid her ever to see Richard again?  Rush back up and warn him, ominously, to stay away from his wife?  This was not some Victorian melodrama.

Nevertheless, Claire knew that was exactly what she wished he would do.
  It would all be so easy then.  She might as well have him drag her off and make forceful, passionate love to her until she couldn't remember her own name while she was at it.  After all, if she was going to fantasise she might as well do it properly!

The absurdity of her thoughts struck her and she joined Julian in his laughter.

Seated in the restaurant, Claire watched him as he conferred with the waiter, ordering for them both after consulting her.  He was completely at ease; nothing in his demeanour to suggest that only minutes before he had been unexpectedly confronted with his wife's ex-lover.  After the waiter left, she asked him.

"Do you ever get angry, Julian?"

He leaned back and his eyes narrowed as he answered her.  "Be careful, Claire.  You might not enjoy the consequences if I did."

His voice was very soft, but the touch of steel behind it was unmistakeable.
  Claire sat up, inhaling her breath.  She felt as if she were venturing into unknown territories.  It was a feeling that thrilled her.

"Surely, you're not threatening me?"

He laughed, softly this time, but it was under laid with that same hint of steel.  The rich sound made her feel light-headed.

He drew close again as he spoke.
  "Now, Claire.  Would I do anything so barbaric?"   His tone was lighter and Claire had the feeling he had ventured further than he intended.

She attempted to hold the original mood.
  "I don't know, would you?"

He sat back, his tone dismissive.
  "Come on, you know me better than anyone."

His head was turned as he nodded at an acquaintance seated at another table.
  Claire refused to allow the subject to die a natural death.

"Better than Susanna?"

His head snapped round, a look of startled anger on his face.  It was the first time Claire had seen his expression so completely unguarded.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean!"

It was Claire's turn to be startled now.  She looked down from the burning expression in his eyes and muttered.

"Nothing."

The waiter came with their order almost at the same moment.  She began to eat her soup.  It was the specialty of the house, but to Claire it tasted like ashes.  She had finally managed to make him drop his reserve, but the reason for him doing so made her heart feel like lead.  It was an empty victory.

Back in the office Claire couldn't settle to anything.  Her eyes roamed around the empty room, finally coming to rest on the snapshot.  He was standing in a backyard she recognised as Andrea's.  It must have been a festive occasion because the patio was adorned with decorations.  She wasn't sure of the reason for the festivities; she only knew she had not been there.

It made her realise that there were so many occasions in his life when she had not been there.
  She turned the photograph face down, angered that something she intended to make her feel closer to him, now made her feel further away.

The albums she selected the snapshot from made her feel the same.
  Not so much the one it had come from, but the earlier ones.  The ones that recorded his life before she met him.  The ones that included Susanna.

The first thing she noticed was how much younger he looked.
  He was, of course - more than twelve years in some of them.  But it was more than the lack of years; he seemed more vital.

The albums were full of shots of Susanna alone - it was almost as if he couldn't take enough pictures of her.
  In one of them, Susanna was leaning forward, blowing a kiss in an extremely vivacious and provocative manner.  Had he taken her in his arms immediately afterwards?  Claire closed the albums then and put them aside.

But she had returned to them only a short time later, unable not to.

There were a number of shots of them together.  Always, he was touching her.  In one, his arm was draped possessively over her shoulder.  In another, he was sitting on the deck railing, his arms encircling her as he held her between his legs, his lips buried in the hollow of her neck.

And in one - one Claire wanted to pull out and rip to shreds - he was looking at her, his eyes filled with unmistakable hunger and unbridled passion.
  She had snapped the book shut then and not looked at them again.

What had happened to that passion, Claire found herself wondering now?
  Had it been refined over time...or had it died - with Susanna?

She walked over to the smoked glass of the window and laid her forehead against it.
  An overwhelming despondency washed over her, and finally she let the tears trickle down her cheeks.  She didn't even notice Richard until he was standing beside her.  Her despair was so deep that his presence failed to evoke its usual violent reaction.

She turned her face away attempting to hide her tears.

"What's the matter, Claire?  Don't tell me that sophisticated husband of yours actually lost his temper and gave you hell."

She hadn't expected gentleness; it was a quality she had never received from him before.
  In a way, she was grateful; his attitude revived her.

"Don't be ridiculous, why should he have lost his temper?"

"Don't tell me he doesn't know about us."

"Of course he does, but it doesn't bother him."

She moved away from him across the room as she spoke.  "What makes you think you can put a chink in his armour?  I certainly can't."

Except when I dare to suggest I might know him better than Susanna.

A look of quick perception crossed Richard's face.  "So it's like that is it, not the jealous type.  Or maybe he's just not jealous as far as you’re concerned."

He began closing the space between them.
  Claire didn't try to avoid him; she was rooted to the spot, dreading what he was about to say and yet desperate to hear it said at last.

"The way I hear it, he would have killed for his first wife."

Claire was powerless to stop his next words.

"What can you expect, Claire.
  I'm sure you know he was crazy about her.  A man doesn't forget a woman like Susanna Ainsley too easily.  Not even after eight years, maybe not ever."

At that particular moment, after all her doubts and tension of the past weeks, the words sounded like a death knell.
  She sat down heavily in Greg's chair and covered her face with her hands.  Richard squatted in front of her pulling her hands away, his voice surprising her with its soothing softness.

"Don't worry, Claire - you've always got me.
  At least you know you'll always be first in my heart."

His words and unexpected tenderness broke her control and she fell into his arms, sobs shaking her frame.
  When Stella walked past she saw them; Claire's head on his shoulder, him looking over hers - the light of victory in his eyes.

Julian eyed the beautiful girl who paraded in front of him with a feeling akin to disgust.
 However, the feeling was directed not at the young woman, but at the garment she wore.  It was his latest prototype and it was not shaping up.  Hardly surprising really, nothing seemed to be lately.

"How does it feel, Rachel?"

"Well...”

The girl hesitated, uncertain about speaking her mind.
 Julian sighed.  He knew most of the models he commissioned were a little in awe of him.  He kept it that way deliberately; he didn't need the distractions.  But at times his policy of aloofness had its drawbacks; like now.  He smiled a smile calculated to set the girl at ease.