Chances & Choices (13 page)

In a fit of defiance
, she released the last button of her blouse, allowing the cascading material to fall as designed.  Head held proudly, she entered the studio.  Somewhat deflating, neither of them paid her any attention.

They went through the photo session quickly.
 Greg posed Julian in a number of shots, only one or two of which would be used for the article.  It was over before Claire knew it and Julian was letting them out through the side door.  His attitude towards her when Greg was around held all the impersonal efficiency she could have hoped for that morning and Claire wondered if she had dreamed the sensuous session in the chair.

She and Greg were travelling down in the elevator, which held only the two of them, when she heard him speak behind her.

"So he's the one, huh."

She looked over her shoulder at him.

"What?"

His tone was teasing and exaggerated.

"The man you let your hair down for."

She snapped her head back, looking in front of her.
 "Don’t be impertinent," but she could imagine his wide grin.  There wasn't much point in trying to dampen him.  Telling Greg not to be impertinent was like telling the sun to set in the east.

There was no more conversation between them until they reached his car.
 After he unlocked the passenger door, he told her.

"Never mind, Claire, it happens to all of us eventually."

"What does?"

"Falling in love."

Claire did not reply, unable to find it within herself to contradict his statement.

Claire hurried through the glass doors of the office building, the air-conditioning a balm to the heat of the mid-June morning.
  Pressing the elevator button, she heard Stella's perfectly modulated tones behind her.

"Good morning, Claire.
  She returned the greeting as they both stepped into the elevator.  "Has West read your article, yet?"

Claire turned to look at the other woman, a little surprised at the note in her voice.
  The article had taken longer to write than she had anticipated and Julian had kept it a few days, only letting her know whether he intended to allow it to go to print, 'as is' last night.  But she hadn't realised Stella was tense.

"Yes, I spoke to him about it, last night.

"And he approved it?"

"Yes, he seemed quite pleased with it."

Oh yes, thought Stella.  I'll bet he was.  I'll just bet he was.

 
Julian had read and then re-read the article just to make sure he wasn't imagining it.  But no, he was right.  Claire's feelings for him pervaded the article.  It talked about his skill in designing, using technical terms, and traced his career from its earliest beginnings.  But it was not a factual treatise; it was a portrait of a man; a portrait painted through the eyes of a woman in love.

He wondered if Claire had recognised it.
  Probably not, she was unlikely to lay her feelings bare to anyone who cared to buy a magazine.  He wondered if he should allow her to print it.  What reason would he give to deny permission?  The truth?  No, he wasn't that sure of her yet.  There was no other reason which could be considered acceptable.  The article was very favourable towards him.  Maybe he was the only one who would notice it.  After all, he'd been looking for something like this.

Julian was wrong; he was not the only one to whom it was apparent.
  Almost three thousand miles away, in New York City, a blond-haired man in his early thirties, with eyes of a startling blue, was reading the same article.  What he read did not please him.  He threw the article down and his sensual features took on a sulky look, which only increased his Byronic appearance.

Damn!
 He hadn't anticipated this.  He had imagined Claire missing him, spending her nights in restless yearning for him.  He had expected her to come running back to him after a month or two, ready to fall in with his plans.  Instead, she'd found herself some romantic romeo.  Well, it wasn't over yet!

He looked at his watch - eleven in the morning in L.A.
  - Stella would be in the office.  He picked up the phone and placed the call; she was not surprised to hear from him.

"Richard, I thought I might be hearing from you.
  Did you read Claire's article?  Rather touching, don't you think?"

Bitch, he thought.
  Aloud he said.

"Yes, thanks for sending it.
  Listen Stella, I was thinking, is that job offer still open?"

"Of course, I had a feeling you might reconsider.
  Shall I speak to John or shall you?"

"No, I'll handle, John.
  When do you want me?"

"As soon as you like."

"Okay, I don't think John will disagree with a quick transfer.  I'll let you know my plans."

After he hung up, Stella smiled a smug, self-satisfied smile.
  Claire's article was proving very useful already.  Stella wanted Richard Blake; she'd wanted him for two years.  She'd had him for a while and then he'd become obsessed with Claire.  Stella hadn't worried at first thinking her too insipid to hold a man of his passion for long.  But Richard kept on wanting Claire; obviously he still did.  Stella couldn't understand at first and then she'd realised.

Richard didn't just want Claire; he wanted her talent as well.
  He was ambitious, but although a competent photographer, he lacked the flair to carry him to the top.  But he was clever enough to recognise Claire's potential and he saw in her his ticket to success.  He'd miscalculated his timing and scared her off, but now he was coming down here to try and rectify his mistake.

Stella didn't rate his chances very highly; he'd left it too late.
  But that suited Stella, when his schemes came to nought and fell apart, she would be there to pick up the pieces.  But then she might be wrong.  Claire's feelings for West were still vulnerable and Richard had certainly held a powerful attraction for her.  It used to make Stella laugh the way she would blush whenever he came near her; it was so ridiculous you could almost see her tremble.

She was sure raw passion was not an element in Claire's romance with West.
  Perhaps Claire would choose Richard just because her reaction was more violent.  Women like Claire weren't very good at recognising lust; usually because they refused to admit to the existence of such a vulgar emotion.  Oh well, Stella had thought, I'll just have to take that chance.

Stella looked at Claire and wondered how she would react to the news that Richard would be joining their staff next week.
  Not that she intended to tell her.  She wanted to see Claire's reaction when she came face to face with Richard without being forewarned.  Her reaction would be an excellent gauge of Richard's chances.

The elevator reached their floor, and they were crossing over to their respective offices, when Claire remembered something.

"Oh, Stella, you can cancel my hotel reservation for the convention in Vegas this weekend, Julian has already taken care of it."

"Alright.
  Are you flying up with him as well?  Shall I cancel your flight?"

"No, he's leaving tomorrow night.
  He has business there on Friday, so I'll still be travelling with the rest of you."

"Very well."
  Stella paused and Claire could have sworn her expression actually softened.  "I'm quite looking forward to it.  I've never been to Las Vegas."

"Haven't you?
  Stella, you'll love it!  It's a fabulous place.  You really should hit the crap table; a good game of craps is an experience not to be missed."

"Perhaps I will."

Any softening real or imagined was gone, and Claire had the distinct feeling that Stella regretted her sudden unexpected familiarity.  So what, she thought as she reached her desk, she wasn't going to let old frost-face spoil her enthusiasm.  A whole weekend in Vegas; she could hardly wait!  She would probably enjoy the convention;
Concepts in Fashion Merchandising.
  Well, maybe not.  Still, there would be lots of parties and there was always the casinos.

Las Vegas; twenty-four hours of fun every day and Julian would be there.
  The article was finished and she knew it was excellent.  She had a feeling it was going to do her and Julian's careers a lot of good - they had reason to celebrate.

The next three days seemed to drag by as the days before an eagerly anticipated event tend to.
  Finally, Friday evening came and Claire and the others were aboard their flight to Las Vegas.  She was seated beside Greg and Mary-Jane, but for all the attention they paid her she may as well not have been there.

They sat huddled together, giggling and drinking champagne.
  Claire didn't really mind that they ignored her, she thought the sight of them together was rather sweet, but then, almost everything seemed sweet to Claire lately.

The warm desert night air wafted over them as they boarded the bus to take them to their hotel.
  Claire remembered how surprised she had been the first time she visited Vegas.  She had always heard it was cold at night in the desert and had packed long sleeved dresses and wraps.  They hadn't gone amiss, for although they were not needed outside, the coolness of the air-conditioned buildings had made them welcome and in many cases necessary.

The bus moved through the deserted streets of the city and then suddenly they hit the strip and everything came to life.

The traffic was loud and heavy and everywhere people were teeming around.  Some making their way purposefully from one casino to another, others standing around, talking and laughing, perhaps on their way to one of the many shows.  All were taking in the sights and sounds of the famous Las Vegas strip.

Lights; everywhere there were lights.

All colours, all shapes, ever-changing, ever constant.  The excitement, the vitality, was everywhere and Claire felt the thrill of it grip her.

 
The hotel lobby sported a banner welcoming the conventioneers and everywhere people were milling about.  Standing at the desk, Claire looked around.  There were bound to be people here she knew, but in the sea of faces it was hard to pick out one that was familiar.  Then she picked out one that could not be mistaken and smiled as Andrea descended upon her.

"Claire, you've arrived.
  I met Julian about an hour ago and he said he was expecting you.  Where is he?"

Andrea looked around, imperiously, as if the simple action of her looking for him would undoubtedly bring forth his appearance.

"Well!  He was at the baccarat table then, but I naturally assumed he would leave to meet you.  Don't tell me he has abandoned you for that silly card game?"

It was all Claire could do not to laugh at Andrea's contemptuous dismissal of the gentlemen's card game upon which fortunes had been lost and won for centuries.
  She attempted to placate Andrea.

"It's alright, Andrea, we agreed I'd meet him there once I'd freshened up."

Andrea beamed the confident smile of the woman who believes she has just understood all.  "I understand, you don't want him to see you rumpled and travel weary."  She patted Claire's hand.  "Quite right."

Just then, Claire's attention was caught by the words the desk clerk was saying to Stella.
  "I'm sorry, Ms. Abbot, but we only have you listed as a party of three, not four."

Before Stella could reply, Claire interrupted.
  "That's alright, my reservations were made by Mr. West, Mr. Julian West."

A look of relief passed across the young woman's face.
  She looked tired.  She'd probably had a number of problems over the past few hours and would have many more before her shift was finished.  She was obviously relieved to have this one solved so easily.  Smiling, she handed Claire a key card.

"Sorry about the mix-up, Ms. Fitzpatrick.
 Mr. West’s suite is on the tenth floor."

"Oh, a suite,"
  Claire felt herself begin to blush.  A look of dismay returned to the clerk's face.

"Yes, I hope there isn't a problem."

Claire's blush deepened and she felt like kicking herself.  Then she gained command of herself; no one else thought anything of her sharing a suite with Julian, so why should she?  No doubt there were two bedrooms and she'd spent weekends at his house before; this would be no different.

But she knew it would be.
  In this town, romance was everywhere and she hadn't stayed over at Julian's since the first weekend of her return and they both knew why.  But she controlled her blush and accepted the key with a smile.

"No, no problem."

Andrea, bless her, entered the breach and dispelled any lasting awkwardness.  "A suite, how clever of Julian.  I shall gather a band of revellers together and we shall descend upon him later tonight.  It's always fun to have a party in someone else's suite; you don't have to face the maid's disapproval in the morning."

She laughed.
  "Don't look so dismayed, Claire.  We shan't stay forever, and you needn't worry about Julian minding too much.  He's become quite accommodating in the last little while.  That's the secret, you know, make men happy and they become accommodating."