TWO
IT TOOK A HALF HOUR for them to drive the short distance across the city to an older suburb. Filled with modest houses, it was clean and orderly with flowers in pots on most of the porches and the occasional decorative flag stuck in the postage stamp yards. By the time they arrived it was full dark and the streetlights were on.
Luke followed Claire’s directions to a well-kept, narrow, white two story on the corner of the street. There wasn’t a single light on in the house, not even the porch light. It was as if the people inside left suddenly without bothering to do the normal things people who lived near the city did, like leave a light on inside and make sure the porch stayed lit. And then he realized that’s probably exactly what had happened. One minute their lives were moving on like normal and the next Pete’s wife was getting the call to drop everything and rush to the hospital. In an instant everything changed.
The idea wasn’t new to Luke. It had happened more than once during his childhood but he’d never thought of it like this. Not with something tragic happening between two people whom he assumed loved each other enough to stay married for several decades. The idea gave him a fresh pang for the loss even if he didn’t know Pete well enough to mourn the man. He reached for Claire’s hand and waited to see what she wanted to do.
“They’re not home,” she said, sounding exhausted and resigned. “Maria must have gone home with one of the kids. All but one of them live in the area.” She looked at the empty house for a long moment. “I guess I should wait until tomorrow. I can call Maria in the morning.”
Luke let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He’d have spent all night driving her around town if she wanted, but he was more grateful than he could have imagined to be able to take her home with him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, letting go of her hand so he could stroke her cheek. “Let me take you home and take care of you. We can deal with all this in the morning.”
He felt her nod against his palm and slipped the car into gear before she could change her mind and remember she was angry with him.
He didn’t ask whether she wanted to go to his place or hers. When she didn’t protest as he made the turn toward his penthouse he took it as a good sign. He fobbed his way into the underground parking garage and slid his car into its spot. He was out of his seat and by Claire’s side by the time she got her door open. Keeping her tucked against him, his arm around her waist, he led her onto his private elevator.
As soon as the doors slid closed behind them, she turned to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and letting the weight of her head fall against his chest. Where there had been scorching heat between them, this time there was something more. Something richer than the want that always burned just below the surface every time they touched. He felt her need, not the need for him to take her. The need to have him hold her up, give her his strength while he sheltered and protected her.
Strong, sweet Claire vulnerable in his arms broke something open in him that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to put back together again. He cupped the back of her head with his hand, cradling her to him as his other hand stroked her back. Much too soon the doors slid open and he had to loosen his grip on her, but he kept his hand anchored to the small of her back as he let them into his penthouse.
Everything was the way they’d left it that morning. Esmerelda his housekeeper had been in to tidy the breakfast dishes and he hoped stock the refrigerator, but Claire’s Architectural Digest was on the counter where she’d laid it after she finished her coffee. Could it just be fourteen hours ago? When they left together that morning he’d been so happy. He loved waking up with Claire in his arms.
And then there had been the disaster at the flip and he’d been sure they were over and that it was what he wanted when the exact opposite was true. He wanted – no needed – to be closer to her not farther away. He’d been going back into the house she was working on to tell her that when the call from Sparks had come in. Now Pete was dead, his family’s lives changed forever, and Luke had no idea where he and Claire stood. He knew where he wanted them to be. He wanted them to be together.
He steered her to kitchen counter, nudging her onto a stool. Not bothering to ask if she was hungry, he went to the refrigerator and started to dig through the contents, looking for something to feed them both. They’d been on their way to dinner when they started to fight and he doubted she’d bothered to take time for lunch. If he didn’t force her to eat, he was afraid she’d work herself to death, living on black coffee and determination alone, which was sad considering when he took her out she got more pleasure out of food than any other woman he’d ever met.
He found a roast chicken and a huge bowl of salad Esmerelda must have left for him. While the chicken warmed in the microwave, he plated and dressed the salad. The microwave dinged and he took the chicken out, burning his fingers as he tried to hold it so that he could slice it to put on the salad. Eric would laugh his ass off if he could see Luke in the kitchen trying to do more than pour cereal into a bowl. Maybe he should have taken Claire to Comme Ci or swung by to pick up take out. Having a celebrity chef for a best friend vastly expanded his take out options.
When he glanced over at Claire, sitting on the stool looking stunned and sad, he knew he’d made the right decision bringing them home. She was in no shape to go out and he wanted to feed her himself even if it was a chicken and salad his housekeeper made. He needed to be the one to take care of her. He slid the sliced chicken onto the plates beside the salad and wiped his hands on a white terry cloth dish towel before setting the plate in front of Claire. Grabbing two bottles of water and his own plate, he joined her at the counter.
“Thank you for this,” she said, motioning with her fork. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until you started to fix food. I worked through lunch.” She had the decency to look sheepish, and he snorted at her revelation.
“I figured.” He waited until she’d eaten almost half her salad before he spoke again. “Claire, I’m sorry about earlier. I overstepped. I was coming back into the house to tell you when Sparks called.” He watched her posture shift, tighten, and he worried he’d made a mistake bringing it up when she was so raw. “We don’t have to talk about any of this now. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, and I want a chance to fix this thing between us. You’re too important to me to let go.”
She didn’t say anything but she nodded and her shoulders relaxed a few fractions of an inch. They ate in silence for a few more minutes before she turned to face him. She opened her mouth and then closed it again without speaking.
“I know you were trying to help,” she finally said. Thebuthung in the air yet she didn’t say it, and he didn’t push.
When they’d finished the food, he took their plates to the sink, caught her hand in his and led her down the hallway to the shower and his bedroom.
CLAIRE WASN’T SURE how she’d ended up here again. Luke was like a drug she couldn’t seem to get out of her system. When they’d gotten to her flip and she’d seen the crews he’d hired she’d been so angry and hurt and when he said he never wanted to make her do something she didn’t want to she knew she needed to walk away while she still could. He’d never be able to love her like she needed to be loved. The kind of love that meant family, building something together and not holding anything back. In the end, he’d been the one to walk out the door and the inevitability of the gesture and the resignation on his face crushed her. She’d fallen apart, but she hadn’t gone after him, and she might have been okay, at least eventually. Her heart was shattered but she could keep moving, putting one foot in front of another until she built some semblance of a life for herself.
When he came back for a moment she thought it had been because he’d reconsidered. Then she saw his face and knew something was very wrong.
Pete was gone. She still had trouble believing it. Hell, earlier that day he’d been warning her about Luke, and now he was dead, and she was back in Luke’s arms. Faced with everything that had happened that day, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. She wasn’t strong enough. She needed his strength, and if it was wrong – who was she kidding, she knew it was wrong – then she’d have to deal with the consequences later. When the pain of everything wasn’t so raw and close to the surface.
She let him lead her down the hall to his bedroom and past the bed where they’d made love so many times in the few weeks they’d been together.
“Bath or shower, sweetheart?” he asked, opening the door to his amazing Carrera marble clad bathroom.
She didn’t need to relax. She needed to wash away the nastiness of the day and then fall into Luke’s soft white bed.
“Shower.”
He pushed buttons on a panel on the wall and rain started to fall behind the glass door. She stood and watched it slide down the glass, making clear trails before steaming up again. Dropping onto the small stool by the vanity, she worked lose the laces on her boots. Groaning in relief, she slid the steel-toed boot from her feet. She pulled off her socks but couldn’t seem to make herself strip off the rest of her clothing.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it. Not Pete or the break up with Luke or the reconciliation which wasn’t really a reconciliation.
