Chances & Choices (19 page)

Only it wasn't that simple!

Claire allowed her mind and heart to travel back in time to that moment when she was first aware of her love for Julian.  She had been so certain.  When he suggested they get married it had seemed the natural and only decision.  She had no doubts then.  So why was she so doubtful now?

Because Richard arouses passions in you Julian doesn't.

There, it was out.  She had faced it.

Her feelings for Julian were tender and loving, and although she was sexually attracted to him there was not an overwhelming sexual attraction between them; not like there was between her and Richard.

Lust, Julian had called it, but that had been his assessment and he had a vested interest.  Not that she believed he deliberately misled her, but maybe he believed it because he wanted to.  Did overwhelming passion only belong to lust?  No, surely it should be a part of love as well.  But it was between her and Richard, not between her and Julian - the man she thought she loved.  Where did the difference lie?

In Richard's and Julian's natures?

Was Richard naturally more passionate than Julian?  Or was it simply that Julian controlled his passions?  She remembered a brief moment when she had been crushed in a fierce embrace for a few seconds.  Yes, Julian was capable of passion, but he chose not to allow it free rein.  Why?  She thought she knew everything about him; but she was beginning to wonder if she really knew him at all.

And what of her?
 Was she capable of feeling passion for Julian?  She thought of the quick electrifying tingles those brief touches of his had aroused last night, and of that strange tension in their bedroom this morning.  Was it possible passion could grow between them just as their love had?  That it only needed time?  If that were the case then she would give it time.  He was worth it.  Their marriage was worth it.  She only hoped Julian felt she was worth it and that whatever his reasons for checking his passion he would not consider them more important than their marriage.

Claire would have been surprised to learn that, at the very moment she was analysing her feelings, those feelings were the subject of a discussion in her editor's office.

"So, you really think you can persuade her to divorce him for you."

Richard was moving around the room in quick excited strides.  His sapphires eyes were sizzling with a strange obsessive light and he was running his hands through his hair.  He stopped his pacing and turned at Stella's question.

"I'm sure of it.
 I was worried last week when you told me she'd married him, but after the way she reacted to me yesterday...” he emitted a quick, delighted laugh.  “... you should have seen her Stella; I could have taken her there and then.  I didn't though.  She might have regretted it afterwards and resented me.  I made the mistake of rushing her before.  I'm not going to do it again."

There was an energy about him he seemed incapable of containing.
 He resumed his pacing.

"For heaven's sake, calm down.
 I can't for the life of me understand what it is about the girl that makes you so obsessive."

He stopped and walked towards her, where she sat on top of her desk, her legs crossed.

"What's the matter; Stella?  Sour grapes?"

She pushed away the hand he had placed on her knee and gave a cool disdainful laugh.
 "You flatter yourself, Richard.  You're good, but not indispensable."

She wanted him, but she had no intention of admitting it, not yet.
 Not while he was still so obsessed with Claire.

"You don't understand, Stella.
 You think Claire's insipid, but you're wrong.  Beneath that cool exterior, she's all fire.  She just needs a man who presses the right buttons.  And I'm the man.  Have you any idea the feeling of power that gives me?  Besides, she'll be an asset to me in my career."

There was determination in his face as he continued.
  "I want her and I'm going to have her."

"Even if you have to break up a marriage in the process?"

"Since when did you become so scrupulous?"

Stella looked down at her perfectly manicured nails.
 When had she become scrupulous about this?  When she saw them walk into the hotel suite, hand in hand, an aura of intimacy surrounding them?  When West popped that bottle of champagne with such a boyish charm and imparted their news with such an air of joy?  When they looked across the room at one another the yearning to be in each other's arms so plainly visible?  Or was it when Claire looked at her with that fierce hatred and stumbled away like a wounded animal?  Was it then that she began to feel these twinges of self-depreciation?

Stella drummed her nails in irritation.
 She was over-reacting, a thing she never allowed herself to do.  It wasn't her fault if the stupid girl couldn't decide which man she wanted.

"What makes you so sure you can take her away from him?"

"I told you.  I press the right buttons for her.  Which I'll bet is more than that namby-pamby dress designer of hers does."

"Really Richard, you've never met the man.
 He was married to Susanna Ainsley, an extremely vibrant woman, if her movies are a good judge.  He managed to keep her happy.  They were married for five years and from what I understand she was never unfaithful to him, an unusual occurrence, considering she was part of the Hollywood scene."

Stella gave a laugh that wasn't entirely unpleasant.
 "I also heard he was so fiercely possessive of her that if he had ever found her with another man, he might have killed him.  A rather strong deterrent, don't you agree?" She raised one eyebrow in a questioning manner.

"If that's supposed to be a warning, Stella, you'll have to do better.
  I've made some inquiries of my own.  He's changed a lot since then from what I hear.  Become a lot more reserved, matured you might say.  And he may have been able to keep Susanna Ainsley happy, but he can't be raising much of a fire in Claire, or she wouldn't have reacted to me the way she did, would she?"

Stella shrugged.
 "Perhaps not.  But, I think he could if he wanted to.  He's no namby-pamby dress designer."  There was a thoughtful expression on Stella's face.  "It's true he's reserved, but there's a definite air of virility about him that seems all the more exciting because it's controlled.  One wonders what it might be like if it were unleashed."

"Do I detect an interest, Stella?"

Stella considered. "No.  He's a little too intense for me, a little too much soul."  She paused.  "But, I wouldn't underestimate him, if I were you."

He touched her knee again..
 "Your concern is touching, Stella, but I think unwarranted."

She brushed his hand away a second time and said. "Very well, Richard. Have it your way.
 Just don't say I didn't warn you."  She uncrossed her legs and stood up, automatically adopting a businesslike stance.  "Now, if we're finished discussing your prospective love-life, perhaps you should get some work done."

He tipped his hand to her in mock salute and went to the door.
 Before leaving, he turned and said.  "Don't underestimate me either, Stella.  I usually get what I want."

There was such a ruthlessly determined look on his face that Stella found herself wondering if he really might succeed.
  It was a thought that disturbed her.  What disturbed her even more was the realisation that the reasons Richard's success would not please her were entirely divorced from her own ambitions towards him.  It was such an unfamiliar feeling to Stella that she almost shivered.

When Richard left Stella's office, he intended to go and finish the previous morning's darkroom work, but the sight of Claire exiting from the elevator made him change direction towards her.
 He adopted the smile that he knew affected her so deeply.

Claire saw him coming towards her and she felt a brief wave of panic, which she managed to squelch.
 She hoped it hadn't shown in the glance she threw at him.

Why did he have to look so hotly attractive?
 Did he reserve that smile just for her?

He was dressed too carelessly for the office, as usual.
 His mode of dress had been a thorn in John's side, she knew.  Softly scuffed leather jackets, crinkled chinos and artlessly untucked, dishevelled shirts were frowned upon in the business side of high-fashion New York.

Perhaps that was why his manner of dressing had always excited her; it was an understated deliberate defiance.

It still excited her.

They may be in the more relaxed atmosphere of Los Angeles, but they were all New York imports, as Mary-Jane put it.
 Stella was as business conscious as John, so no doubt his carelessness irritated her just as much.

How did he get away with it?

She was not the only one who fell victim to his fascination.  Richard had a strong driving will and what he wanted he got.  Regardless of how others may feel, they would bend to his will.  He wanted to dress that way, so he did, and no one stopped him.

Claire shivered.
 He wanted her.  Would anyone stop him?  Would she?  Did she want to stop him?  Tenderness was all very well, but there was something so incredibly exciting about a man who demanded complete submission.

"Mornin’, Claire”, he greeted her with a husky drawl.
 “Hope you slept well, baby?"

He didn't say, and dreamed of me, but the implication was clear.
 She hadn't.  Her sleep had been surprisingly untroubled.  Looking at his sensually handsome features, Claire wondered why.  Why had those piercing blue eyes not invaded her dreams as they now invaded her mind and body?

He was beside her now, so close that she merely had to lift her hand and she would be able to sink her finger into the deep cleft of his chin.
 She clasped her hands together to stop herself from doing so.  She took a deep breath and was surprised that her voice came out clear and unshaken.

"Morning, Richard."
 She didn't bother to answer his question.  Instead, she asked one of her own.  “Did you get some good shots for Greg's article?"

He leaned forward, placing one palm against the wall behind her.
 She clasped her hands tighter together and flattened herself against the wall, but her movements made very little difference to the space between them.  She could feel her palms grow sticky and there was a tightening in her throat.

"I haven't finished developing them yet, but there should be some good shots."

He brought his other hand up to rest on the wall at her other side, closing the space between them.  Claire felt the soft leather of his jacket brush against her breast through the thin material of her blouse. The scent of leather and his own musky scent coupled around her.

"Do you really want to discuss business, Claire?" he breathed huskily against her ear and then he trailed his lips and tongue lazily down her hidden niche, along her throat, sensually approaching the corner of her mouth.
 He was going to kiss her and she was going to let him.  She closed her eyes.

"Claire!"

Stella's voice was unusually loud, jolting her to her senses.  Her eyes flew open and she saw the fierce anger in Richard's eyes.  For a moment, she thought he would ignore Stella's presence and not move away from her.  When he did move, his anger became a palpable thing.  It swirled in the air, shocking her with its vehemence.

"Claire, there you are."
 Stella's voice had returned to a normal pitch.  "I'd like to see you right away.  Yesterday was a little hectic and I didn't get the chance to talk to you properly.  There's a few things that came up while you were on your honeymoon."

Claire never thought she would be grateful for Stella's pointed innuendoes.
 The last word brought her back from the dangerous brink she had been moving towards.  At least yesterday she had tried to resist him.

"Is it alright if I get a cup of coffee first?"

"Yes, I think I'll have one myself.  How about you, Richard?  Or do you have work to do?"

If looks could kill, Stella would have dropped dead at his feet.
 As it was, the thunderous scowl he directed at her failed to make even a small scratch in her perfect composure.  He turned on his heel and strode down the hall; throwing over his shoulder.

"I'll be in the darkroom."

Stella shrugged, the only concession she seemed willing to make that she noticed his anger.  "Shall we get our coffee and take it to my office?"

Claire nodded and the two women walked into the small lunchroom that housed the communal coffee pot.
 In silence, they helped themselves, adding cream and sugar.  The intervening minutes allowed Claire to compose herself, and by the time she and Stella were walking down the hallway she felt almost normal.

"How's Julian?"

Claire stared at Stella; this was the only time she could remember the other woman making purely personal conversation.  Expected pleasantries such as asking her if she enjoyed her honeymoon, or congratulating her on her marriage, couldn't be classed in the same category.  The closest she and Stella had come to a personal conversation was when they had talked about Las Vegas, and Claire was sure Stella had regretted it immediately.  So why was she initiating a personal conversation now?  Claire answered her warily.