The Seduction Of Claudia (26 page)

"Um, Andrew, let's go -- " Claudia began, while her cousin said,

"Nicolàs, we have to -- "

There were a few seconds of confusion while the women struggled to end the men's standoff gracefully. It was finally decided that Marie-Josée and Nicolàs would run the 'errands' that she suddenly remembered and urgently needed to see finished. She bustled around, gathering up coats, scarves and gloves. Nicolàs gave Claudia another hug, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose and ended the embrace with a reassuring murmur and a soft kiss on the lips. As they left, Marie-Josée casually mentioned where they would be and when they might have lunch, thus letting Claudia and Andrew know how much time they had to be alone in the apartment.

Alone with Andrew, Claudia didn't know what to do or say. It seemed as if all the air had been sucked out of the room with the departure of her cousin and Nicolàs. Claudia could hear her heartbeat, the blood rushing through her ears. She felt breathless, but not in a good way, like when she was jogging. This was more of a panicked 'I'm fleeing an axe-murderer' breathlessness.

Take a deep breath, she told herself, stay calm. She willed her facial muscles to relax, purposefully forced her shoulders into a more relaxed position. She smiled coolly,

"Let me take your coat."

Andrew surrendered the coat without saying a word. Claudia did more deep breathing as she hung up it up. She thought she might hyperventilate soon if she didn't calm down.

"Would you like some coffee? Or how about some juice? Marie-Josée has some absolutely wonderful freshly juiced mango-orange from the organic market," she said, inwardly cringing at the inanity of her remarks. Her hands moved of their own accord, alternating between nervously straightening her sweater and trying to tie themselves in knots.

Andrew cocked his head to the side and regarded her for a long moment. He didn't know what to make of her nervousness. Had he made a mistake in coming here? Had she really been trying to dump him when she left town? Was she trying to figure out a way to break up with him even now? He'd come here feeling confident that he had handled things with Gates and Marcheline back in Boston the best way possible and that he knew exactly how to handle Claudia. Now he didn't know. She'd been canoodling with the hunky guy on the sofa, then the guy had kissed her in a way that seemed way too familiar for Andrew's preference. She had seemed slightly underwhelmed to see him and now she was chattering and flitting around as if she was trying to avoid talking to him about anything of substance. He didn't have a clue what to make of her behavior.

"Andrew? Coffee?" she asked softly, calling him out of his reverie.

"No. Thanks, though."

Claudia walked to the living room window and gazed unseeing at the rooftops of the nearby buildings. This is agonizing, she thought, I wish I could just go to him and wrap my arms around him. Tell him how much I love him. She longed to do it, but something stopped her. She was too afraid of what he might do or say in response. She had sworn to herself that when she saw him again, she would tell him how she felt, but she had thought that she had a week or so to get used to the idea, to prepare what she wanted to say and to practice it. But he was here now. And she had no idea why. She turned around to ask him just that, but before she could, he said,

"So. Is Nicolàs someone special to you?"

"No! Well, yes, he is. Like Marie-Josée said, our families are very close and related in some crazy way that barely counts anymore."

"Does he always hold you on his lap, whisper in your ear and give you kisses?" His tone of voice had lost all traces of cordiality.

"Actually, yes he does and he has for as long as I can remember," Claudia's own voice was laced with asperity. "Not that I see how that's any of your business."

Judging by his behavior, whatever had brought him to Paris apparently didn't entail a reconciliation. Angry all over again because of her gullible hopefulness, she vowed not to embarrass herself by groveling.

"I see. You could have done me the courtesy of telling me about him. All this time, I thought we'd been exclusive. And here you are snuggling up with another man in Paris."

A beat of silence passed as Claudia absorbed what he said. What is he talking about?she wondered. Of course they had been exclusive. And snuggling up? What was that all about?

"I wasn't 'snuggling up' with anyone. Now, would you like to tell me whatever it is you came to Paris to tell me before you leave?" she prepared to dismiss him.

This encounter wasn't going as planned. Andrew felt the lid he'd kept on his anger loosen; he was going to explode like a pressure cooker. He wanted to strangle Claudia. He was tired and hungry and he kept envisioning what had probably happened between Claudia and Nicolàs before he'd arrived or what might have happened if he hadn't showed up when he did. It was nearly impossible to clear his mind of the image of her cozying up with the good-looking man. He didn't like it one bit that she felt so comfortable having physical contact with any other guy than him.

"Yeah, I would like to tell you: It was shitty of you to leave town -- the country - like that without telling anyone where you would be."

"Excuse me, but the last time I checked, I'm a grown woman who doesn't need to ask for permission to go on vacation!"

"Oh really? I would have thought that you had enough respect for me and our relationship than to just walk out without a word!"

"You're the one who suddenly needed to go for a run the other day, Andrew! You left in the middle of a conversation because what was being said wasn't to your liking! You left me there with no clothes, no shoes, no keys, no money -- no nothing! I wasn't going to just sit there and wait for you to come back!"

"Why not? I wasn't even gone that long!"

"It was too long for my liking," she shot back. "It was ridiculous of you to pull that stunt anyway. Who do you think you are to hold me captive? Besides, you can't possibly blame me for leaving after all the things you said!"

"What? Jesus Christ, Claudia!" Andrew wasn't following her train of thought. He ran a hand through his hair, then around the back of his neck. He was really too tired to do this right now. Nothing was coming out of his mouth the way it was supposed to. He'd been mad the minute he walked into the apartment and things weren't getting any better. He decided to try a new tack.

"Will you come away with me?" he asked. "I mean... Not away away. But just to my hotel. I haven't showered or eaten since yesterday in Boston. I'm fried. Do you mind if we go to my hotel so that I can clean up and eat before we talk?"

"I could meet you somewhere later, after you've had a chance to rest."

"No. Just come with me now... Please," he added after a beat. Andrew didn't want to let her out of his sight. Now that he was here, he would keep her with him, even if that meant they spent the time together fighting about whatever ridiculous thing they were currently fighting about.

"Fine," she said, her ungraciousness masking insecurity and fear. "I'll just call Marie-Josée to let her know that I'm going out, then get my coat and purse."

She left and Andrew breathed a sigh of relief. He felt like a high schooler on his first date. Claudia seemed schizophrenic -- skittish one minute; mad as hell the next. The rapport that they had built over the past month had totally disappeared. It baffled him that it had only been two days since they'd last seen each other and now they reacted to one another as though they were strangers.

Claudia splashed cold water on her face in the bathroom, seeking calm. She quickly brushed her teeth and smoothed her curly hair into a clip at the nape of her neck. She grabbed her coat and purse and went back to the living room. She called Marie-Josée on her cell phone and told her their plans. She began to shrug into her coat and Andrew, who had already donned his, moved behind her to help her slide her arms into the sleeves. He surreptitiously took in her scent, her flushed skin releasing a cloud of her subtle perfume and the essence of her.

Claudia suppressed a shudder at his nearness. Her eyes nearly fluttered shut with the desire to lean into him and draw his arms around her. How had this happened? she wondered. Things had gotten so bad and so quickly. I have to do something equally quickly to turn the tide. I need to gather the courage to just tell him.

She used the key she still had from when she'd arrived at her cousin's apartment to lock the door behind them. Andrew collected his carry-on bag from where he had left it waiting underneath a bench in the building's lobby. Before long, they had hailed a taxi and were on their way to Andrew's hotel.

He had gone straight to Marie-Josée's apartment, so had yet to check in with the innkeeper. The hotel was more akin to a bed-and-breakfast and the matronly proprietress greeted him warmly, behaving as if Andrew was a relative returning to her home for a visit. The house was old, its furnishings antique. The foyer was warm and inviting and they were directed to his room without the impersonal business that usually accompanied hotel check-ins. Andrew asked Madame if she would please have a tray sent up to his room in half an hour and she agreed to do so.

"There's a chef here?" Claudia whispered as they ascended the sweeping curve of the staircase.

"Well, Madame does the cooking, but she is brilliant. Simple food, nothing too complicated or frou-frou. The epitome of classic Claudia cuisine," he told her enthusiastically.

Claudia smiled, happy to note that while so much had happened to make him feel like a stranger to her, Andrew's appetite and appreciation for good food had remained unchanged. She loved to watch him eat almost as much as she loved to watch him make love. I need to get a grip on myself. Otherwise I'll wind up on my hands and knees begging him to take me back.

Andrew's room faced the street. They stepped into a cozy sitting area immediately upon entering the room. The antique armchairs and oval shaped coffee table were situated in front of a smallish fireplace already ablaze with a cheery fire. Further into the room was the bed, made up with sumptuous looking linens and flanked by charmingly mismatched antique nightstands. In front of the large window was a round table, topped with a vase of fresh-cut flowers, which could be used for eating or as a workspace. An armoire faced the bed, behind whose doors Claudia assumed were the obligatory modern conveniences all hotel rooms offered. The floors were of shiny parquet and scattered with well-worn Oriental carpets. Three houseplants, one in a plant-stand, one centered on the dresser and one hanging in a pot in a light-drenched corner added a wonderful homey warmth to the space.

Andrew hung their coats, then excused himself, telling her to make herself comfortable. A shower was his first order of business. He felt stale with recycled airplane air and groggy with jetlag. Hot water and a vigorous scrubbing usually helped to invigorate him when he traveled.

Claudia sat in the little sitting area, staring into the fire as Andrew showered. Her mind raced as she composed her mea culpa. The longer she waited for him, the more anxious she became. Reticent as she'd been before, she wanted to get everything out on the table now so she would know where she stood with him.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She answered it and admitted Madame, who bore a large tray covered with a snowy white napkin. She inquired as to the suitability of the room and then set the tray on the table in front the fire. She opened a bottle of red wine to allow it to breathe and then left the room.

Claudia poured a glass of the wine and took a big swallow. It felt unnatural to drink when it was barely past noon, but she did it anyway. She heard the bathroom door open and Andrew emerged with a thick white towel wrapped around his waist. Her eye was caught by a droplet of water that dripped from his hair and onto his neck. Two days ago, she would have felt comfortable -- even entitled -- to lick it away. Now all she could do was watch, mesmerized, as it slid between his pectorals.

"Irish courage, Claudia?" he asked drolly when he saw her sitting with the glass of wine half-tilted to her lips.

Her mouth quirked in a wry smile and she raised her glass in a toast as she answered, "You bet. I need all the courage I can get."

He smiled and shook his head, somewhat sadly Claudia thought, and turned into the bedroom to dress. He joined her in front of fire in a few short minutes, having pulled on a pair of jeans. He looks good enough to eat, Claudia thought, devouring him with her eyes. Shirtless and barefoot, he was delectable. She cleared her throat and gestured him to the chair opposite her. She unveiled the tray of food and poured a glass of wine for him.

"To Paris," she offered a toast.

"To Paris."

Andrew tucked heartily into the lunch that Claudia declined to partake of. There was a fresh baguette, soft cheese and a tureen of homemade tomato soup. For dessert, Madame had baked miniature tartes aux pommes. As he ate, they chatted about anything and everything inconsequential, as if they were strangers just making one another's acquaintance. It felt wrong, but again, neither of them could broach the subject that was foremost in their minds.

Andrew swallowed the last bite of apple tart and leaned back in his chair, replete.

"I love to watch you eat." The words were out of her mouth before she could register that she'd even thought them.

"You do? You never told me that before."

"You're so... passionate about food. You relish every single bite." Slightly uncomfortable talking about something so intimate, yet at the same time wanting to say it, wanting him to know, she rose from her chair and paced slowly to the window overlooking the street. She pulled the curtain aside, gazed out onto the street and said, "You eat the same way you make love -- thoroughly, savoring every mouthful, enjoying all the tastes and textures. It's incredibly sexy," she finished, her voice a husky murmur.

As she finished talking, Andrew's hands closed over her shoulders and squeezed. He had walked up behind her, silent on bare feet. He turned her around to face him and their eyes locked, each of them searching the other's eyes to see what thoughts or feelings might be revealed. In hers, he thought he saw a hint of uncertainty, sadness and... longing? In his she read determination and a flare of desire.