by Helen Karol
"Well, it's not as if you're getting any younger. How old are you now, thirty-seven?" Julian drained his glass and placed it firmly on the table.
"Thirty-six, plenty of time yet." Taking Claire's hand he drew them both to their feet. "Come on, let's go for a swim."
Claire didn't waste a minute accepting his invitation, and they both ran plunging into the waves. They swam out side by side for a few minutes, and then Claire could no longer see his dark head beside her. It was only seconds before she found out where he had gone. Her ankle was seized and she was pulled under into his arms, and her lips were brought to his. When he allowed her to surface, the buzzing in her ears could not be attributed to the pressure of the water alone. She had a glimpse of his dancing eyes and satisfied expression before he turned and swam back to shore.
Reaching him as he began to walk back to join Andrea and Stephen, she stepped in front of him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she embraced him in an abandoned kiss. He seemed startled for a moment, and then, putting his arms around her, he took control of the kiss, changing it to a gentler one. Then she felt small hands at the back of her legs and heard determined pleadings to come and play.
When she and Julian parted there was an apologetic look on his face. She, on the other hand; threw him a look of annoyance. When they returned to the sandcastle, which had been partially trampled by the children's dash to the shore, she helped repair it, absently.
Between Julian's controlled reserve and Richard's determined seduction, she was going quietly out of her mind. Almost three weeks had passed since she had decided that the best way to deal with the situation was to never be alone with Richard. She had succeeded in that goal on all but one occasion. The occasion had been two days ago on Friday afternoon when she was returning to the office after lunch.
A number of people were moving in and out of the lobby and there was another woman waiting with Claire for the elevator, so when Richard joined her, she saw no danger in the situation. However, as the elevator arrived, the woman was hailed by someone and she moved away, leaving Claire and Richard alone. It all happened so quickly that she had no time to think of opening the doors and stepping out before the car began to ascend.
"Alone at last, Claire,” the slow tilted smile was on his lips and there was a mocking light in his eyes. "If I didn't know better I'd think you'd been avoiding me these past weeks."
He was facing her and his hands were on either side of her head imprisoning her in the same way he had a few weeks ago. Her pulse was already into overtime and she could feel the familiar wildfire coursing through her body. She looked up at the moving light on the row of floors. It was just leaving five - fourteen more floors to go; maybe someone would call the elevator before then. But there was to be no escape.
Richard wasted no time. His full sensual mouth covered hers, seizing and claiming it. She tried to pull away from him at first, but he only pulled her closer, his hand encircling her back, moulding her body against him. His other hand held the back of her neck keeping her lips where he wanted them.
The kiss went on and on, demanding and invading, sweeping away Claire's resistance until she was acquiescent in his arms. Her surrender encouraged him to move his hands from holding her to roam possessively all over her body, firing her to an intense arousal, his own aroused body pressed intimately against her. He let her go just as the doors opened on their floor and Claire fell against the wall her breathing ragged, her cheeks and body hotly flushed.
"Don't tell me you can still delude yourself it's over between us after that." His stance was confident, his smile smug, assured of victory. "So why don't you stop playing games."
He was so sure of himself that a vestige of Claire's resistance returned. Lifting her hand, she slapped his face and then rushed from the elevator down the hall into the ladies room, uncaring of the spectacle she might present. She could hear Richard's low mocking laughter chasing her all the way. However, he might not have been so pleased with himself had he been privy to the thought that was reverberating in her mind.
If only Julian would kiss her like that.
But he never did.
Not that she didn't find his lovemaking enjoyable - she did. His loving tenderness melted her heart, and his slow gentle caresses raised a sweet desire that always reached a satisfying conclusion. But lately, as she lay in his arms, as sleep claimed her, she would have the nagging feeling that something was eluding her. His loving was sweet, but it lacked abandon.
Since the time it had first occurred to her that she had never seen him angry, she had become increasingly aware of his control. It was slowly dawning on Claire that despite the years she had known him there was still a part of himself he kept hidden - protected.
She told herself that their relationship had developed slowly and that all they needed was time. But their relationship had also developed naturally and Claire couldn't help feeling there was something unnatural about Julian's reserve. As if it were held back, not because they had not reached a particular stage in their intimacy, but because he never intended that they should.
Why? Because it was a part of himself that belonged to another woman? Claire told herself she was being foolish- that there was something macabre about being envious of a woman who had been dead for over eight years. But since the night she first began to wonder about Susanna, a fear had been growing in her that Julian would never love her as much as he had his late wife - that he would never allow himself to do so.
She had no outward indications of this. Julian, when he spoke occasionally of Susanna, did so naturally and without constraint. Claire had no concrete evidence that he still mourned his first wife to the point that would not allow him to love her as much - only his reserve. But it was enough and Claire's suspicions were growing.
Added to this was her guilt over her attraction to Richard. Did she have any right to expect Julian's unreserved love when she was still attracted to another man? Not that this could be the reason for Julian's behaviour; he didn't even know she was working with Richard. His ignorance of this fact was another problem that was reaching frightening proportions.
Every evening on the way home she would promise herself she would tell him; introduce it into the conversation easily and naturally. But every time she would find herself veering away whenever a possible opening arose, terrified her guilt would show. However, by the middle of the following week, this was one problem that solved itself.
Richard was coming out of the darkroom when he saw the dark-haired man enter the writers' office. He recognised Claire's husband almost immediately from Greg's photographs, and from the snapshot Claire displayed defiantly on her desk.
Grudgingly, he admitted to himself, neither did the man justice. So what, his own power over Claire had nothing to do with perfection of features or physique. He walked down the hallway and entered the office that he knew, apart from Julian, was deserted.
"Can I help you?"
Julian put down the desk picture, a smile flitting around the corners of his mouth. The snapshot was a couple of years old, she must have taken it from one of his albums. The man before him was a stranger, but his question indicated he worked here. Funny, he thought Greg was the only male on the small staff.
"I'm looking for Claire. I had to come downtown and thought, since I was in the vicinity, I might surprise her and take her for lunch." He smiled a little ruefully. "Unfortunately, I seem to have missed her."
"Yeh, she and Mary-Jane are out interviewing. They'll probably have lunch before they come back." There was a slight pause before he continued. "You did mean, Claire Fitzpatrick?"
Julian straightened. It was understandable. Claire had decided to continue using her maiden name on her by-line. The man's tone had been pleasant enough and there was nothing hostile in his blue regard. But Julian's instincts were finely honed. He knew an enemy when he met one.
"Claire West, actually," his tone was as pleasant as Richard's. "I'm Julian West, her husband."
&nb
sp; Richard gave a short laugh. "Sorry, I knew she'd married, but I've always known her as Claire Fitzpatrick. Old habits die hard, I guess. I'm Richard Blake."
They did not shake hands and Julian accepted the apology with the insincerity it was made.
"Yes, well no doubt you'll get used to it."
The name meant nothing to him, not connecting Claire's previous confidences with the man in front of him.
It was at this point that Claire entered the office to find the two men taking one another's measure. It was a sight that filled her with consternation. Taken by surprise, she stopped short in the doorway causing Mary-Jane, who was chattering behind her, to collide with her immobile figure. As the younger woman was carrying a cup of soup, her exasperated exclamation was hardly surprising.
"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 do
wn 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.
