This Tangled Thing Called Love: A Contemporary Romance Novel Page 22

  Once inside her apartment, Claire strained her ears for hints of music. Ever since her complaint to Alec, he had hardly troubled her, and tonight was no exception, as Claire was greeted with silence. She wondered if Alec was out at a bar, chatting up some leggy blonde, or perhaps embracing a gorgeous tango dancer on a dance floor, moving effortlessly to a milonga rhythm. What would it be like to be swept by the powerful music with a man like Alec holding you, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand claiming your hand, his hips touching yours?

  Claire shook her head. She had to get these ridiculous thoughts out of her mind. If anything, today’s date had made it clear that she and Alec were about as compatible as oil and water, but she still needed to be able to interact with the man in order to get Castelan’s photograph for the exhibition. Besides, they were neighbors, and unless she wanted to risk making a complete idiot of herself the next time she ran into him, she’d better accept the fact that her relationship with Alec was going to be nothing but that of a civil friendship.

  What she needed now was a long, hot shower to wash away the tumultuous day and a good night’s sleep. With any luck, tomorrow she would wake up with Alec gone from her mind.

  Just as Claire was about to head into the bathroom, her phone rang. She scanned the caller id, but the number was displayed as unavailable. Normally, she would have let it go to voicemail, but her parents were away in Italy for her father’s research on his academic paper, and Claire thought that it might be them. Because of constrained funding, her parents’ lodging had only the most basic of conveniences, and the phone was not one of them. The last time they had spoken was several weeks ago, when she had still been engaged to David Lawson.

  “Hello?” Claire tried to calculate the time difference between New York and Italy. Were they five hours ahead or five hours behind?

  “Finally!” Amber’s voice rang triumphantly in the receiver. “I thought I’d never get through to you.”

  “Amber, where are you calling from?”

  “I had to get a spoof card to get you to pick up. I knew it would work.”

  “Yes, it worked, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stand here and listen. I can’t talk right now, or ever, for that matter.”

  “Claire, wait. Please don’t hang up,” Amber pleaded. “I’m sorry for being such an ass. Please wait.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I called to apologize. This whole thing with David is a mess, but he really loves you, Claire. Please give him a chance to explain.”

  “Whoa. Why don’t we backtrack to the part where you were trying to cover up for him?”

  There was a loud sigh on the other side of the line.

  “I only found out about it that day, and the only reason I agreed to help David out was that I really believed that that photograph was meaningless.”

  “Yes, well, it looked pretty meaningful to me. I guess Claudia Block must have attacked him and forced her tongue down his throat.”

  “Come on, Claire, don’t be so bitter. It’s not like you.”

  “It’s not like me to be made a fool of either.”

  “You’ve got a point there, but at least hear David out. Give him a chance to tell you his side of the story.”

  “Did David put you up to this?”

  Amber hesitated for a moment. “He asked me to talk to you, yes.”

  “Don’t you think that you’re taking your representation obligations a bit too far? You’re a PR agent, not a matchmaker.”

  “That was low. And for the record, I no longer represent David. His father made him fire me.”

  “And you’re hoping David will hire you back if you get me to change my mind?”

  “No. That’s not why I’m calling you. Claire, we’ve been friends since forever. I don’t want you to make a huge mistake. David can offer you a dream life. So he slipped, but who is perfect? Loving somebody means being able to forgive him.”

  Claire paused. Amber’s question made the truth obvious to her. Sure, no one was perfect, and if she wanted to, Claire could find a way to forgive David. But the simple matter of the fact was that she did not want to forgive him, not because of the hurt that David had caused her, but because she did not love him, never really had.

  “I’ve got to go, Amber. It’s late and I have an early day at work tomorrow.”

  Knowing only too well the objections that would follow next, Claire hung up the phone, unplugging it for the night. Any emergencies would just have to wait until tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 30

  It was a little after six in the evening on Monday when Alec left the photo atelier. He was carefully carrying two manila envelopes: one contained the original photograph of his great uncle and the other, a copy for Claire. Of course, Alec could have gotten the photograph’s copy ready for his first meeting with Claire, but then he would not have had a reason to call her again, and now he did. The atelier owner had outdone himself. The copy of the image was masterfully restored, without any of the pesky cracks and faded spots that littered the original.

  Alec hoped that Claire would be pleased. It had been five days since their lunch date, and Alec had not heard from her since. He had toyed with the idea of calling Claire, perhaps asking her out on Saturday night, but decided against it. Alec did not know where he stood with Claire, and rather than jeopardize the shaky status of their acquaintance any further, he decided to wait until he had a legitimate reason to call her.

  When Alec got home, he placed the manila folder intended for Claire on the table and put away the original photograph into the photo album where it belonged. Then he picked up his phone. Enough beating around the bush. He was going to call Claire. He had thought about what he was going to say to her during his walk home. It was a pleasant ten-block walk made even more so by an unusually temperate evening for a New York summer – a perfect night for a romantic stroll. Perhaps, if he found the right words to say to Claire, she would agree to go for a walk with him. Alec knew just the place where he wanted to take her.

  Enough, Alec thought. The more you think about it, the more likely you’re to choke. He was about to dial the number when he realized that he had never actually gotten Claire’s number. All of their previous interactions had been in person, consisting of either Claire barging into his place, or him bumping into her in the building or knocking gingerly on her door.

  When he was a freshman in college, during one wild night at a nightclub, Alec’s buddies had a bet to see who could get the most girls’ phone numbers. Alec had won hands down by getting close to fifty numbers that night. Since then, he never had a problem getting a woman’s number. Just how he had managed to strike out with Claire, he was at a loss to explain. Well, that only left one option. He would have to see her in person. Of course, he could simply slip the photograph under her door, but it was not a pizza delivery special or a circular to be handled so carelessly. Besides, the only way he could ascertain that Claire had gotten the photograph was by giving it to her himself.

  Claire paced the floor of her apartment. It had been an exhausting day at work, but she was too wired up to be tired. The good part was that she had finished her report for the Commission ahead of time. That was what having no love life did to you. It made you excel at deadlines, but the bad part was that now she had to start organizing the Castellan exhibition. She had spoken with Professor Barnardo this morning, and he assured her that the library had agreed to lend Castelan’s letters for the exhibition. The Fink Corporation had also been extremely helpful in organizing the event and had acquired an impressive collection of architectural drawings and models as well as photographs and manuscripts for the exhibition. The planned exhibits would more than suffice for the event had Claire not been foolish enough to open her mouth about the one-of-a-kind photograph of Castelan she had discovered and suggest using the photograph as the centerpiece. Now she cringed at the thought of delivering on her own suggestion.

  It had been five days since she had last seen Alec.
Every day Claire left her apartment, she secretly hoped to bump into him in the elevator. The same thoughts entered her mind when she came home from work. It was infuriating how it was possible for two people to exist in such close proximity without sharing an encounter for days. For Alec was only a few feet away from her, separated by the ceiling of her apartment. Yet, for all the good it did, he could have been living out in Alaska. That’s how wide the gap between them had felt since their dismal date. But however humiliating the memory of her last encounter with Alec was, Claire had to put her pride aside and contact the man. She needed a copy of his great uncle’s photograph, and she was going to get it, come hell or high water.

  Claire carefully reapplied her make-up. In her experience, it always helped to look good when trying to get a favor out of a man. For Alec would be doing her a favor. He really did not have to get her a copy of the photograph, not to mention the original, which Claire hoped to convince him to lend her for the exhibition as stage two of her plan.

  After her make-up was finished – a fresh coat of mascara, a dusting of powder, a bit of blush, and some lip gloss – Clare switched her attention to her outfit. She wanted to select something attractive but effortless – a pair of indigo jeans that hugged her butt in all the right places and that mauve top she had found on sale at Bloomingdale’s. Her wedge sandals would complete the ensemble.

  Claire appraised her appearance in the mirror. It was the perfect girl-next-door look she had been aiming for – not too obvious, but not too shabby either. And this time she would leave her shyness at home. Perhaps she and Alec would get a second chance after all.

  Her head held up high, Claire closed the door behind her. I am confident and collected, she mouthed her improvised mantra, and I am going to get what I need.

  She pressed the elevator button and waited. It was only one floor to Alec’s apartment, but Claire had no intention of climbing up the stairs and appearing winded on his doorstep.

  Finally, the elevator door opened, and it was all Claire could not to gasp at the sight of her upstairs neighbor.

  “Alec?” Claire blinked as she racked her brain for the right greeting. Should she tell him that she was on her way to see him, or should she play it down and say that she was going out for groceries?

  “Claire, I’m so glad I caught you. I was on my way to give you this.” Alec handed her a manila envelope. “It’s a copy of the photograph that you asked for.”

  “Thanks. I was beginning to think that you’d forgotten. I really appreciate your help.”

  “I never forget my promises.”

  Claire opened the envelope and hoped that her disappointment was not betrayed by her expression. Alec must have gone to some trouble to obtain the restored copy, but the restored version was a far cry from the original. The smoothness of the perfected image obliterated the original character, taking away its genuineness.

  “Is something wrong? You don’t like it?”

  “It’s wonderful, thank you.” Claire blinked, searching for the right words for what she wanted to say. “It’s just that for the exhibition, I was hoping for a more dated look. The original look of the photograph would be perfect… But this will work. Thank you again. You’ve really done me a huge favor.”

  “Well, I could always make you another copy, or if you’d like,” Alec hesitated, “I could lend the original for the exhibition.”

  “You would do that?” Claire’s eyes lit up.

  “Well, seeing how much this means to you and how serious you are about organizing this event, I know that I can trust you with the photograph.”

  “Thank you, Alec. You won’t regret it. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much this means to me. Your great uncle’s photograph will be the centerpiece of the exhibition.”

  “I’m glad I can help.”

  “So am I – believe me!” Claire laughed, forgetting all about her earlier unease around Alec. Somehow standing there with him in front of the elevator felt extremely natural. “Well, I’d better get going.”

  “Were you going somewhere? I was wondering if you’d like to keep me company for a walk around the neighborhood. It’s a wonderful night out.”

  Claire had to agree. It was a wonderful night - or to be more precise, it had been a completely ordinary night until a few minutes ago, but now that she was standing there with Alec looking at her with his smiling brown eyes, it felt like the best night on earth.

  “Sure, let me just drop this off in my apartment and then we’ll go.”

  Alec had been right. It was a magnificent evening with temperature down to the mid-seventies – a rare treat for a New York summer. As she walked next to Alec, Claire could not help sneaking furtive glances at her neighbor. It was simply sinful for a man to be that good looking: his dark hair brushed the nape of his neck in a careless mess, his body, weaved of lean muscles, moved in effortless grace as he walked beside her, seemingly oblivious to the effect he had on her. But it was not just Alec’s looks that caught Claire’s attention. It was his demeanor, the way he held himself, as though the world were his playground (or his dance floor, to be more precise) that Claire found both irresistible and intimidating. Irresistible, because somewhere in the hidden recesses of her mind Claire harbored a fantasy of Alec having eyes for no other woman but herself, and intimidating because she had no idea how to make her fantasy a reality.

  “How about a drink?” Alec asked as they walked down Second Avenue.

  “I could definitely use a drink,” Claire conceded. And why not? There they were, sharing a perfectly pleasant walk. Why not take the evening further and see what happened?

  “I know a new place that’s just opened on Third Avenue. It’s this way.”

  Alec held the door open for her, and Claire stepped inside. It was a typical lounge with lights dimmed so low that she had to be extra careful not to trip over the steps that led up to the bar. Despite it being Monday night, almost every table was occupied.

  “I see a spot over there.” Alec pointed to two women getting ready to leave their seats by the bar.

  Before Claire could as much as blink, Alec grabbed her hand and steered her to the two emptying seats. Claire’s heart was in her mouth as she followed Alec, one question pulsating through her mind. Was his touch just a friendly gesture, or was it something more, and how should she respond without being too obvious?

  “Perfect timing.” Two leggy brunettes who were the former occupants of the now empty bar stools winked at Alec and gave Claire an appraising glance.

  “Thank you, ladies.” Without so much as a look in the women’s direction, Alec pulled the chair for Claire and waited for her to sit down. Then he too took a seat next to her.

  “What would you like to drink?”

  Suddenly, Claire seemed to have forgotten all the cocktails.

  “Oh, I’ll have a cucumber martini,” she repeated the drink special that she saw on the menu propped on the bar stand.

  “Sounds refreshing. I’ll join you.” Alec placed the order with the bartender, who proceeded to mix the concoction in a shaker that looked like a futuristic device. “So, tell me more about yourself, Claire.”

  Claire felt Alec’s knee brush against her thigh. He sat on the bar stool opposite hers with his long legs perched on the chair’s footrests. Could it be that he was simply unaware of his lanky appendages coming in contact with her body or was the move deliberate?

  “Um, I don’t really know where to start.” She shifted in her seat. If there was one thing she truly hated, it was talking about herself.

  “Well, why don’t you start from the beginning,” Alec grinned.

  Again Claire felt his knee brush against her. She glanced at Alec, but his expression did not betray anything other than an easy smile.

  “What’s your favorite color?”

  “Green. What’s yours? Wait, let me guess – is it red?”

  “Why would you say that? Ah, I know.” Alec shook his head. “Because of the paint job I did i
n my apartment. That’s just for dramatic effect for when I have students coming in.”

  “You give dance lessons in your apartment?”

  “Are you going to report me to the building management?”

  “No, I was just curious, that’s all.” Claire blushed, remembering her first encounter with Alec. Her track record more than warranted his reaction.

  “Because if the noise of footsteps bothers you, I’ll stop.”

  “It doesn’t bother me. I hardly heard anything.”

  “I try to schedule all the lessons during the day while people are mostly out at work, and I make sure to keep the volume in check.” Alec shot her a meaningful glance.

  “You’re not going to let me live it down, are you?”

  “Well, I must say that your first visit was rather memorable.”

  “I hope that you don’t think that I habitually burst into people’s apartments. It was just that I rang the bell and got no answer, so I knocked again and the door pushed open…”

  “So you just let yourself in,” Alec concluded, clearly enjoying Claire’s abashment.

  Claire grinned, too embarrassed to come up with a witty retort.

  “I’m only kidding, Claire. In fact, I’m rather glad that you stopped by that day. Otherwise, it could have taken weeks for us to meet.”

  “There you are.” The suave bartender unwittingly came to Claire’s rescue as he placed the drinks before them.

  “Thanks, man.” Alec placed a generous tip on the bar. “Here’s to getting to know your neighbors.”

  Claire raised her glass and took a long sip. The smooth, cool liquid refreshed her. “Mmm, this is good.”