by Helen Karol
"I suppose she should’ve told him, but I can understand why she didn't. She's been in remission for years. You know, I...I think she was quite right. This way they’ve had four years together with no shadows hanging over them. What I don't understand is why she insisted they come today. He looks so lost."
Claire heard Andrea murmur with indulgent affection. "Well you know Susanna, always determined to live life to the fullest. She’s still very much alive and it’s not as if they just found out today. She told me she didn't want him grieving until necessary.”
"Doesn't seem to be working, does it?"
No, but it might in time and it’ll help her to stay in the mainstream as long as possible. She so loves the limelight."
I guess..."
Embarrassed by overhearing and intimate conversation, Claire had stayed in the cubicle until the conversation faded away in the distance. Throughout the rest of the party she studiously avoided Susanna and Julian. In her youthfulness she’d no desire to meet head on the issue of intense love in the shadow of death. She was relieved when her father decided it was time to leave and if he considered her unusually quiet on the drive home he failed to mention it.
The summer passed without further contact with the Wests and by the fall, she was too involved with her first college year to give thought to the couple. By the time Susanna Ainsley West's death was reported in the media, Claire had little time to spare from her own grief. Ironically, the issue of death that she attempted to avoid the summer before touched her intimately at an earlier age than it did Julian West. After a stroke, Claire's father was laid to rest in the same cemetery where Julian buried his wife barely a month before.
Claire stood there remembering that gathering eight years ago. For the first time since then, she was suddenly struck by the classical perfection of his profile. From this distance and in the semi-darkness, the laughter and worry lines she knew were around his eyes and mouth were not visible and his skin appeared as smooth as the marble sculpture he resembled. His physique was as strong as ever and he was still lean-hipped although his chest and shoulders had broadened as he moved into his thirties. Smiling fondly, she noted that his dark hair was still refusing to be tamed by the hairstyle she knew he adopted for that very purpose.
Looking at his masculine beauty from a distance it crept slowly into Claire’s consciousness that he was by far the most handsome man she knew. She found herself wondering why she was never sexually aroused by him. He was far better looking than Richard. Oh no! Here she was at it again. Damn this sexual awakening of hers! Now it was even invading her friendship with Julian.
Just then, Julian turned his head. Catching sight of her, he pushed away from the window and walked to the middle of the room flicking the main light switch as he went. His face held a questioning look as if unable to place her. As the light illuminated her it was immediately swept away by a look of recognition.
"Claire, what are you doing here?"
Claire's heart sank. He didn't seem very pleased to see her although it was hard to tell from the emotionless mask that'd come down almost as soon as he recognized her.
***
Behind the mask Julian drank in the sight of her.
She looked taller. An illusion created by her position on the slightly raised dais at the entrance and the elegant court shoes she wore on her feet. His gaze traveled from them up her shapely, slender legs to the hem of her dress that draped curvaceous hips, emphasizing her slim waist, blossoming over full, firm breasts, revealing the sensuous curve of her white throat. The dress could've been made for her, and Julian wondered if she was on his mind when he designed it. He retained his hold on his expression, but he was not as successful with his inward emotions. Her skin was pale compared to the golden beauties who filled the west coast. It gave her an ethereal appearance that was enhanced by her wide, grey eyes. She’d grown more beautiful he thought and even more desirable.
Walking up the couple of steps to stand in front of her, he thrust his hands in his pockets to stop them from reaching up to remove the pins from her upswept hair, so it could slip down and lie like strands of gold against the curve of her cheek. As he drew closer, the scent she wore drifted towards him. It was faint and unfamiliar and he wondered if he were to bend and place his lips to the soft pulse of her throat if he would recognize it.
"Julian?"
The sound of her voice made him collect himself. What was he doing standing in front of her like a love-struck fool! He moved aside allowing her access to the steps.
"Come in. Would you like a drink?"
He moved past her to a drinks table against the wall in the small seating area apart from the rest of the studio, glad of the actions necessary to prepare the drinks.
"Yes, a gin and tonic would be nice if you have some."
Claire wandered around the room watching him as he mixed the drinks, unwittingly repeating the same motions he went through half-an-hour before.
Julian's cursed his attitude aware it had confused her. He’d appraised her in a fashion he knew she was used to from men. She was aware men found her attractive. At least he’d managed to mask his gaze -t looking into his eyes she would’ve been unable to detect even a trace of desire. Why should she? This was Julian. They were merely friends. Reaching his drafting table, she saw the sketches he’d been working on.
"I'm not disturbing you, am I? I know I'm a day early." She accepted the drink he handed her. "But I thought you'd be pleased to see me."
During the intervening minutes Julian had composed himself and he was anxious to establish the familiar rapport that usually marked their meetings. He’d be seeing her more frequently now and if he wasn't careful she’d begin to suspect.
"Of course I'm pleased to see you. Just surprised, that's all. But then, I believe that was your intention." Teasingly, he ran his thumb up and down her cheek.
Claire moved away. It was the kind of gesture he’d made often in the past and it he did it to reassure her of his continued friendship. Turning back, she caught him looking at her intently.
"What's the matter? Do I have a spot on my nose?"
"No. It's just that dress. It's one of mine, isn't it?"
Leaning back against the worktable, adopting an artificial pose, she said sotto voce. "Of course, darling, I never go anywhere unless I'm in a West."
He grinned, relaxing, her little performance releasing the tension in the air.
"Hiring that ad agency was the best thing I ever did. I sometimes think after their promotion it wouldn't matter what I designed."
"Oh no, Julian. Your designs are wonderful. They're so comfortable. The way the fabric falls they practically caress you." He smiled as she attempted to control the flush that was creeping up her neck suddenly embarrassed by her choice of words. "I don't know why I never wore them before."
No? Well he'd a pretty good idea. His designs were worn by women who were not afraid of their own femininity and Claire hadn’t always been aware of her womanhood. This was certainly not the case now. Every inch of her declared her sex, but he accepted the laughing comment she offered to cover her embarrassment.
"Probably because I couldn't afford them."
Shrugging, he took a sip of his drink his eyes twinkling at her over the rim before he replied. "You get what you pay for."
"Mercenary! And here I was hoping you'd offer me a discount."
He laughed. "I'll think about it. Why don't you work on me a while?" He put down his drink. "Have you eaten?"
"Yes, but it was plastic, plane food. I could easily eat again." Taking one last sip she handed him her drink. He placed it beside his own.
"You usually can. Okay, let's get out of here and find somewhere equipped to handle that horrendous appetite of yours."
"Horrendous! Of all the nerve. My appetite’s healthy. You're just used to models who starve themselves, that's your trouble."
He squinted at her as if assessing her and said. "Well, you're alright now, but I'd be careful
if I were you. You wouldn't want to fill out too much more." She was a lot more than alright, but he didn’t tell her so, comfortable with the light-hearted mood their banter had produced. He shook his head. "A few more pounds and you might have to curb your healthy appetite." Still shaking his head he walked away intimating she was a hopeless case.
Claire ran after him giving him a playful push before taking his arm in hers. “Just for that you can take me somewhere really fancy. If you're not going to give me a discount the least you can do is buy me a decent meal."
"Who said I was paying? You're a working woman. You can buy. It's about time you bought me dinner."
"What! I fly three thousand miles to see you and you refuse to feed me. Some friend you are!"
Their banter continued as they walked out, Julian flicking the light switches as they left, darkening the scene of their reunion.
Chapter Three
Over dinner, Claire kept the conversation on professional or on general topics. Every time the discussion threatened to move into her social life, she steered adroitly away from the subject. Finally after the waiter had put their desserts in front of them, Julian asked her outright about the man she’d been seeing in New York. It was typical of him. He’d only take evasion for so long.
"We split up."
"I see. That wouldn't have anything to do with your transfer back to L.A., would it?"
Claire shrugged feeling miserable. She wanted to confide in him, but not in a restaurant. She put him off. "I'd rather not talk about it, right here and now."
He nodded, but gave her a thoughtful look. He knew her well enough to realize when she was upset.
Attempting to lighten the mood, she asked him mischievously. “What about you? America’s Most Eligible Widower?" She meant the teasing remark as a playful reference to a recent prominent media poll he’d topped, but regretted it at once. "Sorry, that was heartless of me."
He smiled. "No, thoughtless perhaps, but not heartless. Claire, Susanna died seven years ago. It's not a subject you have to skirt around."
Glad she’d not offended him, Claire continued eating, but grew thoughtful. Looking across the table, she speculated for the second time that evening about why she’d never seen him in a sexual light. Had she subconsciously decided not to compete with the memory of the beautiful woman known to the public as Susanna Ainsley, award-winning star, and to Julian as Susanna West, his much-loved wife? Claire narrowed her gaze. It was an illuminating thought. One that opened up new horizons.
In that illumination Claire found her thoughts suddenly return to their first meeting. How could she have forgotten how much he affected her when she walked out of her apartment door to see him bounding up the stairs with that lithe, animal grace of his? She smiled, remembering that he’d been annoyed with her for buzzing him up without checking. He’d lectured her for not being more careful. She'd completely forgotten the dynamics of that meeting, mainly because she was embarrassed when her awkward attempt at flirting made her feel foolish
“You always this bossy?”
“With naughty girls. Yes.”
She was embarrassed by her response to him. She’d feared the attraction wasn’t mutual and buried the memory. Now when she brought it out and dusted it off in the light of her newly gained sexual knowledge and confidence, she recognized the exchange for the sexy little scene that it was. She looked down at her plate and bit her lip. Oh boy. They’d had a definite sexual exchange and she’d stupidly missed it. She felt hot remembering.
And what was with his whole bossy mode and naughty girl thing? Polite, reserved Julian? Who knew? She attempted to control the rapid flush of desire the memory evoked. Claire liked bossy men. Not too bossy. That just pissed her off. But men who were sexy about it and hinted at retribution for misbehavior got her all hot and bothered. She found herself drawn to that quality in a man. A few men had playfully called her a naughty girl and threatened her with a spanking, making her heart thump and her body flush with sexual heat. None had followed through. Despite all the current hype about spanking and dominant alpha males, she'd come to believe that typically most men were just talk in that department.
Claire shifted in her seat. Julian was not your typical man. In all the time she'd known him, he was anything but just talk. He stood by his word. That knowledge combined with her heated memory of the exchange at their first meeting was an erotic, enticing shocker. Claire swallowed and looked across the table at Julian's refined hands and virile physique. What would it be like to feel the force of his hand wielded with the vigor of his powerful arm? How much would it sting as it connected with the tender flesh of her rounded buttocks? Would her nipples and clit grow and peak as she struggled across his muscular thighs?
Claire wriggled in her seat and closed her eyes. She felt the heat flush her whole body as the vivid details of that scenario invaded her psyche. Pressing her thighs together she felt her pussy moisten and then become rapidly wet as her wanton thoughts fired desires she craved yet never expected to have aroused by her safe, uncomplicated best friend. For a wild moment, she allowed herself to wallow sinfully in the sensual sensations the powerful image aroused.
Opening her eyes, she cast the image from her head. Willing it away, she forced her treacherous passions to pay attention to Julian’s face and conversation, but that only succeeded in making her aware of the eroticism in the deep timbre of his voice and the sensual curve of his mouth in his sinfully handsome features. What would it be like to feel that mouth roam over her body lingering in forbidden places?
“Claire?” Julian’s voice broke through her thoughts and her heart flipped at the sensual note in his voice. Despite the implied concern in his words, there was an underlying eroticism in his tone that hinted at a knowledge of her sexual response to him. She met his inquiring eyes and saw a shadow of the passion she knew must be reflected in her own gaze. Holding his knowing stare, Claire knew they both recognized that moment for the shift in their relationship that it was. Biting her lip, she shook herself. This wasn’t what she'd bargained for when she got home. She thought she'd be escaping her sexually confused feelings, not uncovering some more.
Julian’s eyes dropped from what she was sure was her doe in the headlights look and suggested a nightcap at her apartment. “We can have some privacy that way,” he told her meaningfully.
Claire told herself he was referring to her earlier reluctance to discuss her break up in a public place, but deep down she knew he was proposing more. She blushed as her answer seemed engineered to further what he offered. “My apartment won’t be vacant until Sunday. I was hoping you might put me up until then.” She looked away and tried to lighten the import of the moment with a comment that steered away from the highly charged sexual tension in the air. “I was looking forward to a swim in the ocean tomorrow."
She wasn’t aware that she’d been holding her breath until he smiled, allowing the mood to lighten. "Oh, so you want a bed as well as a meal," he reproved her playfully, reaching across and taking the check.
Regardless, her mind was full of what might be. Did she imagine that his hand lingered more on hers than necessary? Did his emphasis on the word ‘bed’ hold the innuendo she thought? A heat seeped through her when he touched the base of her back to usher her out of the restaurant towards the car park.
While walking across the deserted lot, he answered the second half of her statement as if it had just sunk in. "Are you crazy, the water's cold at this time of year? It's still winter."
"You're the one who's crazy. Winter, I just flew in from snowbound New York, remember?"
When they reached his car, she turned to face him. She leaned against the solid metal for support, suddenly cautious of where they might be headed. In her confusion, she grasped at a safe way out. "I could always stay at a hotel if it's too much trouble."
He looked down at her and she heard him let out a long breath. He emanated a low passion – a passion she wasn’t sure she should attribute to annoyance or des
ire. Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her swiftly so she was facing the car, her back to him. Unsure of his intentions, she gasped in shock when he applied a couple of swift, sharp swats to her backside. One to each vulnerable buttock. The short spanking was so close to her earlier thoughts, she clutched her rear in a mixture of indignation and hot desire.
Leaning the front of her body against the car for support, she wondered how he expected her to respond to his spanking of her. No doubt it was feminist etiquette to object haughtily, but her desire won out. Rubbing her bottom, she turned her head to look at him. To her mortification she was unable to keep the revealing, breathy huskiness out of her voice. “What was that for?”
Leaning in with his hand on the car roof, he seemed to tower over her. She felt his ragged breath hot on her neck. The disciplinary tone in his voice aroused her even more as he chided her in a sensual reprimand. “Hmm. Let’s see. Where should I start? How about not telling me you were arriving a day early when you have nowhere to stay. I might have been out of town.”
“Oh.” The sense in his observation made her blush.
“Not to mention insulting my hospitality.” He moved closer to her so she was only just aware of his hard arousal. She heard his low growl in her ear. “Move your hands.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Gulping, Claire dropped her hands obediently.
Crack. This time the smack was harder. Claire found herself whimpering a little as he punctuated each word of his reprimand with a hot blow of his palm to her heated flesh. “You…Smack…hate…Smack…hotels.” Smack. In contrast to the punishment, his next words were offered in a soothing, intimate tone that caressed her ear. “Don’t you. Claire?”
She emitted a little sob in agreement. “Yes”
