by P. G. Forte
“Well, of course I didn’t have to, Michael,” she replied, arching an eyebrow at me. “Since when have I ever done that? I do things because I want to, don’t you know that by now? Anyway, here.” Reaching back into the car, she pulled out two medium-sized, brown paper bags. “Take these, too.”
The bags, surprisingly hefty for their size, were warm and smelled faintly of garlic. However, their folded-over, stapled-down tops, which seemed to present no difficulty for Claire, offered precious little for my fingers to clutch. “What is all this?” I grumbled, juggling bags and briefcase as I struggled for a better hold on them.
“Dinner,” she replied, already turning back to the car once again. This time the back seat gave up a large, Coach tote bag. “I hope you like Italian?”
“Sure, I...” I stopped juggling and stared at her in surprise. “You bought me dinner?” That made two times in a row! The fact was just slightly unsettling. It’s not that my masculine pride is such that I insist on paying every time I share a meal with a woman. But most of the time is certainly not too much to expect, is it?
“Well, no, actually, I bought us dinner,” she replied, oblivious to my discomfort until, after slipping the tote’s strap over her shoulder, she turned back around to face me. Her eyebrows rose. “What’s with the face, Mike? You’re the one who insisted on ground rules. Remember? We agreed we wouldn’t see anyone else? So, when you didn’t call me, I figured we both were gonna end up eating alone tonight. That doesn’t sound like much of a plan for a Friday night, does it?”
“We said we weren’t sleeping with anyone else.” Even as the words left my mouth I wondered what in the hell I was doing. Only an idiot would choose to split hairs like that. Especially since I preferred her version better anyhow. But, fair was fair, and she was the one who’d insisted we could be nothing more than friends. “I hope you know I’d never suggest you curtail your social life like that on my account, Claire. You can eat dinner with whomever you want.”
“Why, thank you,” she replied, eyes dancing with suppressed laughter. “’And, as it happens, that’s just what I’m trying to do.” She glanced pointedly at my front door. “So? Are you going to invite me in?”
“Of course,” I murmured politely, taking a step back and gesturing for her to precede me. “After you.” But it seemed my manners were at an exceptionally low ebb. As we made our way toward the house I couldn’t help asking, “What’s Derek up to tonight?”
Claire slanted me a puzzled glance. “I have no idea. Why?”
I shrugged. “I just wondered why you weren’t eating with him.”
At that, Claire stopped dead in her tracks. The tote she’d been carrying hit the gravel with a thud. I stopped as well. Turning, I found her glaring at me; nostrils flaring, her hands fisted on her hips, her eyes bright and angry. She was breathtaking, in a fiery, furious sort of way, even if I was almost too annoyed to notice.
“Mike Sherman. Am I hearing this right? Are you telling me you think I drove all the way out here for no other reason than because I couldn’t find a single person in all of Los Angeles willing to eat dinner with me?”
“That’s not what I said at all.” Even though I strove to keep my voice as cool as possible, I could feel my temper spike even higher in response. When had I ever suggested any such thing?
Eyes narrowing, Claire eyed me suspiciously for a moment. “Ah. So this is about Derek? Well, make no mistake, Mike, if I’d wanted to eat dinner with Derek tonight, that’s exactly what I’d be doing.”
This time, I think I failed to mask my emotions. I’m sure she read the skepticism in my gaze. A bitter little smile curled her lips.
“Even if he is head over ears in love with that blonde he’s seeing, Mike, if I’d asked him to dinner tonight, he’d have made time for me. I can assure you of that. In fact, if I wanted to use him as nothing more than a piece of arm-candy for the evening, Derek would have been happy to oblige me.”
“Just as long as you realize that’s probably the best use you could have for him,” I replied dryly.
Claire snorted in response. “For Derek? Hardly. If you really want to know the truth, Mike...”
“I don’t,” I said, interrupting quickly, before she could launch into a litany of praise for her former stud-muffin. “I think we’ve already wasted more than enough time on the subject.”
We eyed each other for a moment in silence. I waited for her to remind me that it was I who’d brought up the subject in the first place. But, once again she surprised me. “Fine. As it happens, I totally agree with you.” She sighed. “I want you to understand something, Mike. I drove out here tonight for one reason and one reason only.”
I waited.
“Yesterday’s little scene notwithstanding, I happen to enjoy your company and I wanted to spend some time with you. That’s it. Now, are you going to be able to accept that, or am I going to pick up my bag, get back in my car and go home?”
“Stay,” I replied, not certain which part of the question to respond to. “Please.”
Claire nodded and bent to pick up the tote she’d dropped.
“I owe you an apology,” I murmured, wincing inwardly as I thought about yesterday’s scene--and tonight’s.
Claire froze. Her gaze snapped to my face. “For...?”
I shrugged. “For all of it. Yesterday. Today. I behaved badly. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Claire sighed as she slid the bag’s strap back on her shoulder again. “I think we both overreacted a little. Hopefully, we can put it behind us now and move on.”
“I’d like that,” I said, although I was still uncertain as to exactly where she saw us moving on to, given her previous avowal that she wanted nothing to change. However, since voicing that sentiment now would likely result in her leaving, I said nothing.
“Good,” Claire replied, all smiles again. “So, let’s go already. Before that food you’re carrying gets any colder.”
As we fell into step once more, I couldn’t help but remember the first time Claire had been here. I think I was more nervous now. I’d been in shock that other night. I had no idea what to expect and was trying hard to keep my hopes down. Tonight, both my hopes and my expectations were soaring high.
I opened the door and let Claire in. Her eyes immediately assessed the room, just as they’d done the first time. I’m not inordinately house-proud, I don’t think, but the approval in her gaze and the smile on her lips made my heart swell with pride and satisfaction like nothing else could have done. It was all I could do to keep from murmuring, ‘welcome home’.
I’d no sooner put the bags containing our dinner down on the kitchen counter when an impatient squawk from the spare bedroom reminded me that we weren’t alone.
“Do you mind if I take care of Zoe before we eat?” I asked. “She’s been on her own all day and she really likes company.”
“Of course not.” Claire smiled eagerly. “Are you going to bring her out here? I’ve been looking forward to getting reacquainted with her.”
When I returned to the kitchen, a few minutes later, Claire had set the table and was already plating our food. I paused for a moment, grateful for the pinch of Zoe’s talons against my shoulder. No, I wasn’t dreaming. The cozily domestic scene unfolding before my eyes was real. I sighed happily.
Claire glanced up. Her eyes went immediately to my shoulder, her entire face lighting up as she smiled. “There’s the baby,” she cooed. “Hi, Zoe, remember me?”
The feathers rose on the back of Zoe’s neck. She twisted her head around to the side and gazed at Claire curiously.
“I think she does.” I don’t know why it surprised me. How could anyone forget Claire?
“Do you want a treat, sweet girl?” Claire asked as she picked up a breadstick and headed towards us.
Without warning, Zoe launched herself from my shoulder and instantly plummeted toward the floor. I lunged and caught her before she hit the ground.
Claire s
tared at me in alarm. “Mike?”
I smiled tightly. “Well, I’d say that confirms it, don’t you think? She obviously remembers you.”
“But what’s wrong with her? Why can’t she fly? Is she hurt?”
“No, no,” I assured her. “She’s fine. It’s just that I clipped her wings last night. Sometimes it takes her a few tries before she remembers she’s been grounded. Especially since it had been a while since the last time I’d done it.”
“Hmph.” Claire frowned at me darkly and held her arm up for Zoe to perch on. I handed her off, reluctantly. “Is that the problem, baby?” she murmured, hugging Zoe protectively against her chest. “Is the mean man spoiling all your fun?”
“It’s just feathers, Claire,” I felt compelled to point out. “They’ll grow back, you know. Besides, it’s really for her own good.”
She shot me a reproachful look. “Yes, and don’t they always say that? She’s a bird, Mike, they need to fly. It’s like hobbling a race horse, or that hood thing they put on falcons. Or de-barking a dog. It’s just cruel.”
Cruel? I stared at her, appalled. “It’s nothing of the sort. Claire, you have no idea how much trouble she can get into on her own--between flying into windows and attempting to eat things that would make her sick. If I didn’t clip her wings I’d have to keep her locked up in her cage all day while I’m at work. That would be cruel. She hates that.”
“Uh-huh.” Sounding utterly unconvinced, Claire carried Zoe over to the table. “I don’t know what you want to drink, Mike,” she said as she seated herself. “I didn’t pick up any wine, because I assumed you’d have some.” Her gaze went to the empty wrought iron wine rack hanging from the ceiling. “But it looks like you’re out.”
I shook my head and headed for the kitchen. “I’m not out of wine. It’s just that I keep it in a special, climate-controlled cabinet most of the time. That rack up there is mostly for show--especially during the warmer months.” Despite the trees that surrounded the house, the canyon has a tendency to get hot in the summer; hot, dry and prone to wild fires. “Wine doesn’t do well if it’s left in the heat too long, you know. And since I buy most of mine directly from the vineyards I tend to be a little particular about how it’s stored.”
Claire coaxed Zoe to perch on the back of her chair. “I think I may have been underestimating you, Mike.” Her voice sounded pensive.
I gazed at her curiously. “How’s that?”
She shrugged. “Well, I tend to be a little too impulsive, myself. Sometimes I forget that not every one’s like that. But you... you really think things through, don’t you? I can tell.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Why? Because I like to store my wine properly?”
She shook her head. “Not just that.”
“Well, I hope I do,” I replied, carrying glasses, wine and corkscrew over to the table. “It’s not a bad trait, is it? Although, there’s a lot to be said for spontaneity.”
Claire nodded. “I suppose. But jumping to conclusions, rushing to judge--or really just jumping into anything, for that matter--has its risks.”
I don’t like taking a position when I don’t know what’s at stake. Since I had no idea what we were talking about, it seemed best to stay as non-committed as I could. “Ah, but what’s life without a few risks?” I uncorked the bottle and poured a little wine into Claire’s glass. “Here, see what you think of this.”
Claire took a sip. “Lovely. You always pick the perfect wine for every meal too, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “That’s not hard to do when you provide such delicious food. You make things easy for me.”
“I do, don’t I?” Claire smiled teasingly. “So we make a good team. Is that what you’re saying, Mike?”
I poured more wine into her glass and then filled my own before I answered. “I’d like to think so. Sure.”
“Hmph.” Claire sipped her wine and retreated into a thoughtful silence.
I sat down and gazed at her curiously. “I take it that means you don’t agree?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“But is that what you think?”
Again she surprised me. “No, actually I just hadn’t really thought about it before now.”
I waited. Then pressed her again. “And now that you have?”
Claire sighed. “Well, nowwww...” She folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, closer to me. “I think you may--possibly--be right.”
Hopes soaring even higher than before, I couldn’t help but point out, “I usually am.”
Clare’s eyebrows rose. “You’re usually what? Right?”
“Most of the time. Yes.” I smiled. “That’s one of the benefits of all that thinking you’ve credited me with doing.”
“Oh. I see.” A hint of challenge glimmered in her hazel eyes as she smiled at me. “So, as a result of all that thinking, you think this is one of those times, huh?”
“Yes,” I answered, mirroring her position, folding my arms as well, leaning towards her until only the slightest of efforts on either of our parts would result in a kiss. “I do.”
I spoke the words softly, but I think my voice carried conviction. Claire’s reaction, however, was not what I’d hoped or expected. Oh, her eyes did turn molten for all of a moment, her lips parted... but then the moment passed and instead of leaning closer, she withdrew.
“Well, I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Her tone was teasing. A slight smile curved her lips. Her face appeared serene. But she couldn’t hide the sudden bleakness in her eyes and, as she lifted her glass to her lips, I could see her fingers were trembling.
She’s afraid. I stared at her thunderstruck. Though she hid it well, the woman before me was clearly, suddenly nervous... but of what? Of me? Of my being right?
No, that was ridiculous. It had to be more than that.
Commitment?
Well, I guess, with half a dozen disastrous marriages behind her, how could she not be at least a little bit gun-shy? But, if that’s all it was, if that’s what was motivating her...
Oddly, the realization filled me with hope. It put everything she’d said the other night into a perspective I hadn’t ever considered. This business about us staying friends--no more, no less--was nonsense. We could be so much more than that. In her heart of hearts, I’d bet anything she knew it, too. She knew it and if frightened her.
But I could live with that, couldn’t I? I could wait until she came around. If she was a one-man woman and I was that one man? I was pretty sure I could wait as long as I had to.
“So, what are we waiting for?” I asked, returning her guarded look with a calm smile--a friendly smile--just like she wanted. “Let’s eat.”
* * * *
Dinner went well. Zoe stayed perched on the back of the Claire’s chair for at least part of the meal, before moving onto her shoulder, snuggling against her in a way I’d thought was reserved for me. I pretended not to notice, just as I pretended not to notice all the snacks Claire gave her. Seeing Zoe again seemed to spark all sorts of memories for Claire. And, for once, she didn’t seem to mind talking about them. We discussed some of the movies she’d made, directors she’d worked with, other actors. Our conversation, while not as light as on previous occasions, seemed to cover a lot more ground.
We’d made it all the way to the dessert course when Zoe craned her head around suddenly and nipped at Claire’s ear.
“Ow! Bad bird,” she gasped, covering her ear.
“I’m sorry,” I said rising from my seat to take Zoe away. “I should have warned you.”
“No, no, it’s okay.” Still holding one hand pressed to her ear, Claire put out her other hand to stop me. “Sit down, Mike. Warned me about what?”
“At least let me see if you’re okay,” I protested.
She shook her head. “Really, I’m fine.”
Reluctantly, I returned to my chair. “Zoe loves to chew on earrings. I guess it’s the sparkle, or something. It’s he
r only bad habit, really, and I just can’t seem to break her of it.” I pointed at my own ear, at the stud I’d been wearing ever since the night Claire had admired it. “That’s why I practically had to stop wearing this.”
“Oh.” To my surprise, Claire’s face went pink, her eyes danced with laughter. “Well, in that case, I suppose I owe you an apology.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Um, because I’m the one who taught her to do it?”
“You taught her...” I felt my eyebrows rise.
“Fraid so,” she answered, lips quirking up in a guilty grin. “And, oh, wasn’t her trainer just furious with me? Luckily, there was no way they could ever prove I was responsible. But I think everyone knew--or guessed. I mean, it wasn’t the first trick I’d taught her.”
I was still staring at her, open-mouthed. “Why would you do that?”
Claire sighed. “Oh, you know how it is. Long days stuck in the jungle. Too much time on my hands. I was young. I was bored. I was... provoked.” She lifted Zoe from her shoulder and placed her on her lap, stroking her gently as she spoke. “It was while we were filming Inca Gold. The location was gorgeous but totally remote. The nearest town was... oh, gee, I don’t know how many miles away from the set. I think there was only one cantina in the whole place, one crappy little hotel. Not that ‘the whole place’ amounted to very much, mind you.”
“Go on,” I prompted, still not seeing the point.
“Well, there was this one, really annoying PA. You know, a production assistant? She had these earrings. This one particular set of gold and diamond, two-toned, tassel earrings. Trashy looking things, really. Completely inappropriate for wearing on a set. Never mind the fact that, hello! We’re in the middle of a damned jungle! They were obviously not the kind of thing she could have afforded to buy for herself either. Not on a PA’s salary. They were a gift from her married lover, as everyone knew, and she wore them--No, damn it, she flaunted them. Constantly. She was all the time tossing her head, shaking her hair back behind her ears--making sure everyone saw them, hoping everyone would comment on them. Which, of course, everyone did.”
