Executive Affair (22 page)

‘No.' Mark's answer was curt.

‘He's had a lot on his plate with the Cathair deal in Hong Kong. Will I ask him to call you?' Claire tried to negate the sudden coldness on the line by making her voice overfriendly.

‘Yes, please do. We obviously have a lot to talk about.'

Claire hung up feeling perturbed. She didn't like being at odds with Mark.

Does he have a good reason for wanting the Australian payables over there? Or is he just trying to build an empire?

She didn't want to talk to Robert so she sent him an email relaying the details of her conversation with Mark.

Tom called to see Julia early on Saturday morning. She was wearing a white towelling robe when she opened the door. She looked haggard.

‘Want a coffee?' she offered, leading him to the kitchen where she had been having one herself.

‘No, thanks, I'm in a rush. I have a few things to get done before your case on Monday.'

He sat down across from her at the table. She self-consciously tucked her hair behind her ear. He wondered if she was a natural blonde.

‘I just wanted to let you know about the strategy that Bill and I have decided on,' he began, suddenly regretting that he hadn't taken her up on a coffee. The smell from her cup was tempting.

‘Okay … that's nice of you … but I trust you completely,' she answered with a smile.

She looked softer when she smiled. More vulnerable.

‘To put it bluntly, you were three times over the legal limit. That's a serious offence. To make matters worse, you've been unlucky with the judge. She's a real bitch … and man, she's got a hang-up about DUI.' He paused for breath.

Julia looked worried. ‘So what are you saying?' she asked slowly.

‘Bill and I believe there's a good chance that you'll get a prison sentence,' he said, watching her reaction carefully.

‘No …'

‘We've come up with a plan that we think the DA will agree to …'

He saw hope replace the panic on her pale face.

‘What plan?'

‘We're going to propose that you go to rehab for a few weeks. That will show them how sorry you are for the crime and should make them more lenient.'

‘Rehab? But I'm not a drunk … I can't agree to that … what would I tell Robert?'

She started to cry. He felt like a bastard.

‘I think I'll have a coffee after all. Do you want another?'

She nodded and he made two cups as he listened to the sounds of her weeping behind his back.

‘Why don't you tell Robert that you're taking a vacation?' he suggested as he sat back down. He wanted to make her feel better. He was feeling guilty about lying to her, even if it was for her own good.

‘He probably won't notice I'm gone anyway. You know, Tom, he wouldn't let me stay in Sydney more than two days … after going all that way to see him.' Julia sniffed with self-pity. Her face was blotched from crying. She took a tissue from the pocket of her robe and blew her nose.

‘He's been working very hard … Hey, won't it make him sit up and take notice if you disappear on an exotic holiday with an elusive friend he's never met?'

Tom coaxed a tentative smile from her. She put the used tissue back in her pocket.

‘Do you know anybody who can recommend a suitable rehab centre that I can include in my proposition to the DA?'

Julia nodded, thinking that Linda Stearman would certainly know of somewhere. ‘I'll call you later with the details,' she said, rubbing her eyes wearily.

Tom got up and rinsed his cup under the tap. ‘Why don't you lie down for a while? You're very tired and I want you to look good for the hearing.'

‘Okay. Bye, Tom. Thanks for everything.' Julia managed another weak smile.

He let himself out.

Tom's wife hated him working on Saturdays. He had two more client meetings to endure before he could head home. He
loosened his tie and hoisted himself into the Landcruiser. There was little traffic on the road. He reasoned with himself that Julia would benefit from some time in rehab but he couldn't get the bad taste from his mouth. She had been arrested, fired from her job and now she was facing some lonely weeks in rehab. The divorce papers would be ready when she finished at the centre and Tom realised for the first time how devastated she would be.

Claire made a special trip to the hairdressers and had subtle streaks put through her hair before they piled it on top of her head. She spent over an hour perfecting her make-up and painting her toenails the same sky blue as Fiona's backless cocktail dress. If they were going to have a yelling match in the restaurant, she wanted to look her best.

Robert jumped to his feet as he spotted her being led across the room by the waiter. His eyes and skin looked dark under the subdued lighting. ‘I wasn't sure that you would show … I'm sorry for being so abrupt yesterday.' His lips were cool as they formally touched her cheek.

‘I contemplated not coming, but I suppose I did jump to conclusions and the least I can do is listen to your explanation … I might add that it better be good.'

‘Thank you. Here's the wine list. You choose, then we'll talk.'

‘Okay, I'm listening,' she prompted when the waiter left with the wine order.

‘Where do I start? On Wednesday Julia turned up at work, on some harebrained scheme to surprise me. She was so excited that I hadn't the heart to disillusion her by telling her that she would be going right back to San Jose on the first available flight.'

The waiter arrived with the wine. They both watched his ritual: setting up the ice bucket, wiping the glistening beads of condensation from the side of the bottle, slowly and carefully extracting the cork. Claire indicated to him that she didn't want to taste before he poured. When he moved away, she looked at Robert to continue.

‘I showed her some of the sights on Wednesday afternoon. I felt she deserved that courtesy after travelling so far. I had the golf day on Thursday and I brought her along …'

‘I heard so from Steve and Frank – they were very impressed with her.' Claire's tone was sardonic.

‘To be fair, she behaved very well … until we were on our way home. I told her that she was going back the next day. She went crazy. She started off in the car, crying her eyes out. Then she locked herself in the bedroom when we got home … I ignored her for the first few hours, hoping she would come to her senses. Then I started to get worried. I tried to talk to her, to get her to open the door, she didn't answer. In the end, I had to kick the door in … She had trashed the room.'

‘What do you mean “trashed”?'

‘The mirror was smashed, my clothes were ripped out of the closet … I can't believe I didn't hear the noise from downstairs.'

‘Where was Julia?'

‘She was passed out on the bed. She'd finished a bottle of whiskey. I don't know where she got it.'

‘You had a bottle downstairs, a bottle of Jameson,' Claire said, taking her first sip from the wineglass.

‘I did?'

‘I saw it in your kitchen – on Tuesday.'

‘Hell, I don't know what I have – the house is cleaned and
restocked weekly.' He was agitated as he poured himself a second glass of wine.

‘How did you get her on the plane?' Claire asked.

‘I woke her up and spent three hours filling her with water. She was quite presentable when I checked her in.'

His smile was ironic but Claire's expression remained remote.

‘What's on your mind?' he asked.

‘Why did your wife come to Sydney to surprise you? It doesn't sound like she thinks you're getting divorced …'

His hesitation said it all.

‘You're right. She doesn't know … I haven't told her yet.'

‘Jesus Christ!' Claire reached down to get her handbag from the floor. ‘I can't believe you're saying this.'

He grabbed her wrist to stop her from standing up. The cutlery rattled as the tablecloth moved with his arm.

‘Claire, you promised to hear me out!'

‘I didn't realise that you were lying all along about getting a divorce,' she hissed, conscious of the other patrons, who were now looking in their direction.

‘I wasn't lying … Here,' he reached into his pocket and threw his mobile phone on the table, ‘call my lawyer – he can confirm it. His name is Tom. Remember?'

She did remember Tom. He'd called in the middle of the night, to talk about alimony and assets.

‘This is all too hard, Robert.' She felt tears well in her eyes.

He still held her wrist, his grip relaxing a little but firm enough to prevent her from walking out.

‘Please don't cry … Julia doesn't know about the divorce because I'm leaving it to the last possible minute to tell her. She's not going to take it very well … I may even need
professional help to break the news to her. Please don't cry.'

‘It's all too hard,' Claire repeated, resting her head in her free hand.

‘It's not too hard, Claire. Just trust me, I'm telling you the truth.'

An emotional truce settled in. The waiter was hovering to take their food order. Robert beckoned him over – it was getting late.

She'd had more arguments with Robert in two weeks than she had had with Michael in three years. She had to push all her boundaries just to be with him. But, for some strange reason, their clashes seemed to bring them closer.

‘Is there something else wrong?' she asked when she caught him staring at her while she ate.

‘No … only that you look so beautiful, I can't concentrate on my meal.' He smiled, holding her hand across the table.

‘Charmer,' she replied dismissively, but happy that he had noticed her efforts. She felt his free hand stroke her inner thigh under the table. She looked around, convinced that if the other patrons couldn't see what he was doing with his left hand they would surely sense the sexual tension that was totally out of place in the formal restaurant.

‘Why don't we forget about the show and go home after our meal,' he suggested.

‘Don't be silly, I want to see the symphony.' She laughed but was secretly tempted to leave right then. ‘What did you do today?' She moved his hand from her thigh.

‘I went into the office for a few hours in the morning.'

‘Why?' She frowned at him.

‘Cathair. I thought we would have a memorandum of intent by now. We're getting closer but there's still no commitment
from them. I wanted to call you earlier, to ask you to spend the afternoon with me. I realised that I still don't have your home number.'

‘That's a pity – I wasn't doing much – just went to the beach for a few hours.'

‘With Fiona?'

‘No, on my own.'

‘Images of you in your bikini are not helping me to behave myself.' He put his hand back on her thigh.

The day had been more like spring than winter and the evening was mild as they strolled from the restaurant to the Opera House. He stopped every few minutes to kiss her, his hands impatient as they caressed her bare back. The emotional confrontation at dinner had brought about a new level of intensity to both his touch and her response. In the darkness of the theatre the seduction continued as he slipped his hand inside her dress, his thumb stroking her taut nipple. The show finally finished and they left with ill-mannered haste, jumping into the first taxi before the crowds had even risen from their seats.

Back in his house, he playfully pulled her towards the patio doors. ‘Come outside to the garden.'

‘Why?' she flirted with him.

‘The spa is heated, if you're daring enough …' He raised his eyebrows and leered at her suggestively, making her laugh.

‘I don't think I am daring enough …'

‘It'll be fun. I'll get some champagne from the fridge.'

She followed him outside. The spa was in a sheltered corner of the garden. He took his clothes off and stepped in.

‘Are you going to stand there and watch or are you coming in? Don't be a chicken. The water's really warm.'

He popped the champagne and the cork landed at her feet. She threw it back at him.

‘It's not the water I'm worried about. It's the neighbours … but I suppose that's your problem and not mine.'

She took off her clothes and he whistled. The bubbles were erotic against her bare skin. He handed her a glass before drawing her into the circle of his arms. They drank the champagne as the water massaged their weightless bodies.

‘You know, Claire,' Robert said as he looked into her eyes, ‘I love being with you. You're funny, intelligent, beautiful.'

‘Stop, you're embarrassing me,' she giggled.

‘I can't think why you'd want to be with me.'

‘Now you're fishing!'

‘Let's be serious. I care about you, I want things to work out for us. Although why you want to be with an old man with two broken marriages behind him escapes me.'

‘Two?' Her voice was shrill.

‘Yes, Julia is my second wife. Dianne was my first.'

‘Oh.'

‘Do you want me to tell you about her?'

She felt herself freezing up. ‘Only if you want to.'

‘I met Dianne when I was thirty-three. I thought it was the right time to settle down. If we had met at any other time in my life, we wouldn't have married. We were together six years – bickering, driving each other crazy. Our divorce was inevitable but meeting Julia did speed up the process.'

Claire was rigid in his arms. ‘Are you saying that you were unfaithful to Dianne … with Julia?'

‘Yes.'

She took a sharp breath; his honesty was hurting her.

‘Claire, I can't change who I am. I can't change my past.'

She didn't know what to say to him. She felt strange. Jealous. Insignificant next to his overwhelming past.