This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel

by Marie Astor

“All that I’m going to say is that it’s work related.”

  “Work related?” Jake frowned, casting a suspicious glance around the office. “Don’t tell me you’re dating someone from the office!”

  “No, Jake. I’m not. And it’s not really a date – just a friendly meeting with my upstairs neighbor who happens to be Castelan’s great-nephew.”

  “Huh?” Jake cocked an eyebrow. “Are you intentionally messing with my head? ’Cause that’s no way to treat a friend, you know.”

  “I’m not messing with your head, Jake.” Claire ruffled Jake’s curly hair, which felt surprisingly good to the touch. How come she’d never noticed him before? That’s right. She’d been too busy being engaged to a man who preferred cheating on her to cherishing her. Oh, well. It was too late now that Jake and Lindsay were getting it on. Not that Claire was jealous. She just wanted to be cherished by a man instead of being abandoned by one.

  “Come again?” Jake looked genuinely puzzled.

  Claire glanced at her watch to make sure that she was not running late. She wanted to be on the dot for her meeting with Alec, lest he misinterpret lateness for coquettishness.

  “Okay, you asked for it. But be warned. What you are about to hear is a long and highly improbable story.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Well, now I really have to run.” Claire had finally finished her account of her fascinating neighbor, and she did not want to be late for her meeting with this very neighbor.

  “Wow, Claire. That’s amazing. I’d love to meet this guy. You’ve got to bring him to the office. Maybe he could be a guest speaker at the Castelan exhibition that Daniel wants you to help organize.”

  “We’ll see.” Claire really meant no, but she did not have time to argue with Jake now. “I’ve got to go - can’t be late!”

  “I want a full report when you come back.” Jake winked.

  As the cab approached Leonard Street, Claire closed her eyes and took several deep, long breaths. Calm down, she thought, this is just your upstairs neighbor. But then, that was exactly the problem. She was about to meet her upstairs neighbor, and Claire’s heart was beating faster than a rabbit’s.

  Claire climbed out of the cab and made for the scaffolding-clad building. Soon, the scaffolding would come down, she thought. Everyone would be able to see the treasure that was hidden below it – the treasure that she had helped uncover. She felt an instant swell of pride, which helped quell her nervousness. That’s right. She needn’t get her panties in a bunch over a meeting with some tango dancer. She was an architect, and this was her domain.

  After Claire had picked up a visitor pass for Alec, she returned to the entrance and waited for him to arrive. She did not have to wait long. At exactly noon, Alec appeared from behind the building corner.

  “Ah, there you are!” He grinned at her. “Sorry, I made you wait. I got here early, and I’ve been strolling around the block.”

  “That’s okay. I didn’t wait long.” Claire blushed. “I must have missed you when I went to get your building pass. Here, stick this on your jacket.” Claire gave Alec his building pass.

  “Thanks.” Alec threw back his head, taking in the view. “So this is it, huh? My great uncle’s ghost building…”

  “Ghost building?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I grew to call it, since I started to think that it didn’t really exist. Well, now I’ll have to abandon my habit.” Alec’s gaze shifted to Claire’s eyes. “And I have you to thank for it, Claire.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing, really.” Claire felt her face grow warm again. Get a hold of yourself, she thought. He is only being polite. He is not trying to flirt with you. Or is he? she wondered. The smoldering look in Alec’s eyes could hardly be dismissed as a sign of mere gratitude, but then it was plausible that that was just the way his eyes normally looked.

  “Shall we go inside?” Alec looked at her expectantly, and Claire hoped that he did not possess the ability to read minds or body language, for that matter.

  “Yes, yes, by all means.” Claire led the way, glad that she had worn high-heeled shoes. They might not have been the most comfortable option to romp around a building site, but the high heels made her legs look stunning.

  “Wow, this is incredible! I can’t believe it’s been hidden all these years.” Alec’s face had a look of such pure delight that, for a moment, Claire’s unease left her, as she could think of nothing else but how proud she was to make someone so happy.

  “If it had not been for the current owner’s decision to file for condo conversion, we probably would not have discovered it for years to come or maybe even never.”

  “The owner is going to turn the building into condos?”

  Claire shook her head. “Not anymore. The owner has decided to turn the building into a museum.”

  Alec whistled. “Wow, I didn’t know that my great uncle was that important…”

  “Well,” Claire stalled, not wanting to burst Alec’s bubble. “It won’t be just about Ernesto Castelan. The museum will be dedicated to the architectural history of New York and its neighborhoods, Tribecca in particular, and the architectural influences that shaped it.”

  “Good.” Alec nodded. “I was beginning to worry about fame pressure.”

  “It will be a wonderful museum,” Claire gushed. “The owner is being very generous with the funding, and he has already begun acquiring a number of artifacts for the collection.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. I still have to get you a copy of my great uncle’s photograph.”

  “That’s all right.” Claire nodded. “But if you could get it to me by the end of the week, that’s the deadline for my report, and although there’s sufficient evidence, the photograph would make it really stellar.”

  “I won’t let you down.” Alec smiled, and Claire found herself blushing again. “So, do you have any lunch plans?” Alec asked.

  “No, not really. I was going to head back to the office and eat at my desk.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I forget that people are usually on a schedule.” Now it was Alec’s turn to redden.

  “But I suppose I could sneak away another hour,” Claire blurted out before she could think about her answer. The truth of the matter was that she did not want to think about it. At the moment, she wanted nothing more than to make her encounter with Alec last just a little longer.

  “Well, in that case, I’ve taken the liberty of making a reservation at a Catalonian restaurant in the area. Unless you’d prefer something else?”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  Chapter 27

  As he watched Claire follow the restaurant hostess, Alec had a hard time keeping his eyes away from Claire’s shapely legs and her perfectly round behind. There were no ifs, ands or buts about it - pun intended – he was a butt man. Although, when it came to Claire, the front was equally pleasing to look at. In fact, Alec would be hard-pressed to name a part of his neighbor’s body or face that was not pleasing to look at, from her hazel eyes to her luscious brown hair to her lovely breasts to her slim waist to her shapely behind to her lanky legs… Careful, man, Alec cautioned himself. A few more thoughts in that direction, and his pants were liable to start getting embarrassingly tight.

  “Um, you’ll have to educate me about the Catalan cuisine.” Claire smiled shyly at Alec over her menu. “I’m ashamed to admit that I do not know much about it.”

  Alec beamed. If there was one thing he knew plenty about, it was good food, and Catalan food was his all-time favorite. His happiest childhood memories were of his grandmother’s kitchen, filled with savory cooking smells. It was so unlike his mother’s spotless kitchen with its stainless steel appliances, befitting an operating room, run by the cook and almost never entered into by his mother. His grandmother’s kitchen had pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, with endless rows of spices lining its shelves, and several pots of something delicious boiling on the stove. At the center of it all was his grandmother, stirring, measuring,
sautéing, her aged hands as nimble and quick as those of a young woman’s, while she managed to keep an eye on Alec without missing a beat and listening, really listening to what was on his mind.

  “Do you prefer seafood or meat?” Alec glanced at Claire, reminded again of how little he knew about her and how much he wanted to find out more, such as, for instance, what was that flowery scent that she wore, which, by the way, drove him wild every time he got a whiff of her? And whether she liked to sleep on her side or her back, whether she wore cotton or lace underneath that swanky outfit of hers, and what her dewy skin would feel like against his flesh… Wow, cool it man, you’re just having lunch, Alec thought, keenly aware that his chances of ever progressing to dinner and hopefully, in some foreseeable future, a nightcap, would be forever ruined if Claire gleaned his raunchy thoughts.

  “Seafood.”

  “Wonderful.” Alec gripped the menu as though it were a life preserver. “Then I think you will like Escabeche.”

  “Mmm, I like the sound of it already.” Claire took a sip of water.

  Was she batting her eyelashes, or was Alec hallucinating? This girl was as unpredictable as the weather. One minute the forecast was chilly with overcast, the next bright sunshine, and the next, hot and steamy. Alec nodded, clearing his throat.

  “Yes, it’s a seared, pickled fish. It’s especially nice in hot weather like we’re having now.”

  “Sounds delicious. What’s for dessert?”

  Alec nearly spilled his water. Dessert. Was she thinking what he was thinking, or was he suffering from hyper-active imagination? Perhaps a glass of wine might help him think more clearly. Alec was about to summon the waitress, but then he remembered that Claire had to return to the office and decided against it, lest she think that he was a degenerate who drank during the day and slept till noon. Truth be told, Alec almost never drank, and his countless hours of dance practice along with his teaching schedule started his day in the wee hours of the morning.

  Afraid to rock the boat, Alec summoned the waitress and placed an order that covered the better part of the menu.

  “Tell me more about your family.” Claire looked at him intently once the waitress departed with their order.

  “Haven’t I bored you with my family stories yesterday?”

  “Bored me?” Claire’s eyes widened. “That is the most amazing story I’ve ever heard. Your family must be fascinating.”

  Alec lowered his eyes, searching for the correct words. His family was far from fascinating. In fact, it was far from being a family - at least, not in the sense of the word that most people implied by its meaning, but he was not about to blab about that to Claire.

  “I’m afraid that my great uncle, whom I never met, of course, and my grandmother are the most fascinating members of my family.”

  “Are you close with your grandmother?”

  Alec paused. The memories of hours spent in his grandmother’s kitchen brought a smile to his face even now. His grandmother had been the only one there to steer him through the tribulations of childhood and adolescence; indeed, she was the only one Alec could confide to about bullies and math tests, and, later, about girls and the temptations of drugs and alcohol. While his father was busy building his business empire, and his mother was consumed with being a socialite, his grandmother’s unwavering presence gave him a sense of his identity and strength, allowing him to become the man he was today.

  Alec shook his head. He was way past the age of confiding love troubles to his grandmother, but he was certain, that if still here, his grandmother would most definitely know how to find the key to Claire’s heart.

  “I was. She passed away ten years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Claire’s face reddened. “I didn’t mean to bring up a painful memory.”

  “Who said anything about a painful memory? We will all pass someday. What matters is how we spend our time here and what we leave behind. Of all the people I know, my grandmother had the fullest life imaginable. Together with my grandfather, she came to America in search of a better life. My grandfather was a builder, but unlike my great uncle, he never received a formal education, so he worked odd jobs here and there. My grandmother told me about the cramped room they boarded at one of the tenement buildings on the Lower East Side upon their arrival to America. The two of them cramped into a tiny space with my father, who was then a baby. My grandfather worked merciless hours for minimal pay, and my grandmother took home sewing. Yet, despite all the hardships, she remembered that time as full of happiness, because it was the time she shared with her husband. My grandfather died at a young age, and after she became a widow, my grandmother supported her family by becoming a seamstress. And later, she opened her own shop and became a successful business woman.”

  Alec’s face clouded as he remembered his father bullying his grandmother into selling the shop, screaming that owner of a major hedge fund could have his reputation marred by a seamstress mother. It was not long after that that Alec’s grandmother passed away. It was as though the clockwork of her body was wound up by work, and with little to do, its mechanism ceased to function, simply having run out of reasons to continue its movement.

  “Your entire family is full of fascinating stories.” Claire glanced at Alec. “Are you as close with your parents as you were with your grandmother? Tell me more about them.”

  There it was, the inevitable question - a natural question, really, unless you had a family like Alec's. A family where the father had no time for his son unless he followed in his footsteps, and the mother was more concerned with preserving her youth and advancing her social status than being a mother.

  “Not as much.” Alec smiled at his own euphemism. He was not about to reveal the depths of his family saga to Claire.

  “So, did you get the dance bug from your mom or your dad?” Claire seemed oblivious to Alec's reticence, or perhaps, she was just plain insensitive.

  “That would be my grandmother again.”

  “Your dad doesn't dance?”

  To say that his dad did not dance would be the understatement of the century. “No. My dad doesn't care about anything that doesn't have a spreadsheet attached to it.” Noticing the puzzled look on Claire's face, Alec remained unfazed. She had started the conversation, no matter how unwillingly, so now she was going to get the answers she had asked for. “My dad runs hedge funds. He is seldom interested in things that do not generate a rate of return.”

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry.” Claire blushed.

  But you did anyway, Alec thought. Not that there was anything wrong with Claire's question, per se, it was just that he did not have the answers she expected to hear. “My father and I have a complicated relationship.” That was a good way to put it. A son barely speaking to his father was certainly complicated. “He wanted me to go into finance and I did, for a while, but in the end I decided that it was not for me, and my dad just could not accept that. So, I quit working for him and starting teaching tango for a living.”

  “That's a pretty radical move.” Claire's voice grew quieter as she stared at her plate, clearly afraid to ask any more questions.

  But Alec could guess what was on her mind. “I learned dancing tango from my grandmother. It was her favorite dance. Dancing was the thread that connected her to my grandfather. Through all the hardships, they were able to keep the spark between them alive with the magic of tango... And when he died, the dance became almost sacred to her as the only memory of him. And that's what she taught me - the inner workings of the dance and the psychology of it. I've taken lessons from world champions, but the things that my grandmother taught me were priceless. You can have the best technique in the world, but if your dancing does not have passion behind it, it will be cold and lifeless.”

  A look of intimidation crossed Claire's face.

  “I’m not much of a dancer myself. Never had much aptitude for it.”

  “I could teach you, you know. I do this for a living.” Alec grinned. Wh
at are you doing? his common sense warned him. One of Alec's cardinal rules was never to date his students, and if he were ever to teach Claire, he would be bound to break that rule. In fact, the only reason he wanted to teach her was to have an opportunity to break the rule. That, and to know what the small of her back would feel like against his hand.

  Just then, the waiter brought out their appetizers, and Alec was saved from breaking his principles.

  The rest of the meal was spent in gastronomical exploration, as Claire refrained from asking any personal questions, concentrating her attention on the contents of her plate.

  Claire glanced at her watch as she took a sip of her coffee. Her eyes flew open.

  “I can't believe I took a two-hour lunch. I'll have to make up for it at the office.”

  Alec signaled for a check. “I’ll get you a cab. You’ll be back at the office in no time. I’ll see you off.”

  “It’s all right, really.”

  “I insist. Besides, I’ve got to run a few errands in your neck of the woods. That is, if you don’t mind sharing a cab with me.”

  “Of course not.” Claire blushed.

  When the cab stopped by Claire’s office building, Alec opened the door for her.

  “Thank you for finding a part of my family’s legacy.”

  “It’s me who should be thanking you,” Claire murmured. “You’ve filled in all the missing pieces.”

  “Glad to have been of service.” Alec grinned. “I hope we'll do this again some time.” Alec halted, unsure of what to say next. How exactly was he to define the time he had spent with Claire? It sure as hell was not a date, but neither was it a platonic outing, at least not on his end.

  “Me too.” Claire lowered her eyes. “But now I really have to run.”

  After seeing Claire off to her office, Alec strolled aimlessly down the street. His next dance lesson was not until five, and he was at a loss as to how to fill the remaining hours. There were plenty of things he could and should occupy himself with – like, for example, his dance practice or writing a business plan for the dance school he planned to open. Yet at the moment, he found it impossible to concentrate on any of these tasks. Instead, all Alec could think of was his date (if he could call it that) with Claire. But regardless of how he defined his meeting with Claire, one thing was clear. It had been disastrous. No matter how hard he had tried, it had seemed impossible to penetrate the awkwardness between them, and what had seemed like a promising beginning had come to an abrupt halt when Alec balked at Claire’s interest in his family.