The Apartment (11 page)

It was after midnight, and everyone had gone to bed. She sat at her drawing board for a while, trying to focus on the sketches she had left there, and all she could see was his face. She wanted to tell him to go away, not to tempt her, not to pull her into his life, but she wanted to be with him. She turned off the lights and went to bed, thinking of him and the way he kissed her.

She lay on her bed in a half sleep, and all she could think of was George. He was both her fondest hope and her worst nightmare all rolled into one.

She was still thinking about him the next day on her way to work. She picked up the
Post
in the train station, and there it was, on Page Six. “Who was the stunning blond beauty at La Grenouille with George Lewis last night? George looked like he was over the moon, and something tells us we'll be seeing a lot more of her very soon. Stay tuned.” Her heart sank as she read it, and she felt terrible about not telling Morgan. She had never done that before, and they were best friends.

She called Morgan at her office as soon as she got to work, and made a clean breast of it immediately.

“I had dinner with George last night,” she blurted out.

“George Lewis?” Morgan sounded stunned. She remembered they had met the night she and Claire had dinner at Max's restaurant, but she hadn't heard anything about it from either of them since, although George had questioned her about Claire the day after they met. Morgan had forgotten about it.

“He's been calling me, since I met him with you. I refused to have dinner with him, and he finally wore me down. We went to La Grenouille.” As she listened to her, Morgan knew that Claire turning him down would only make him more determined to make her say yes. There was a long silence at the end of the phone.

“Be careful, Claire. He's good at this. Maybe it will be different with you, but he's broken a lot of hearts over the years. The minute they're hooked, he runs. I think it has to do with losing his mother as a kid. One of his girlfriends told me that once. I met her at a party after they stopped dating.” Claire remembered what he'd said the night before, but she had to admit that she felt something for him. She didn't know if it was as strong as what he felt for her, but something had happened to her too when they met. Maybe he was right. But she didn't want to share that with her friend. She felt suddenly protective of him and wanted to be discreet.

“Don't worry. I'm more terrified than he is. I don't want any guy interfering with my career. That's more important to me.” Morgan understood what she was saying. She felt that way too, although she was in love with Max. But if he had jeopardized her career in any way, or insisted on marrying her, she would have ended the relationship immediately. “He's not going to break my heart.”

“Good. And I don't want you breaking his either. He's a good guy.”

“It'll be fine,” Claire reassured her, with a confidence she didn't feel, but at least she had wanted to tell Morgan that they were dating, or had gone out. What happened after that was up to them. Nothing had yet, but she still remembered the searing kiss and how it made her feel. George had magic powers, and he was a sexy, experienced man.

He called Claire a little while later, and told her how much he had enjoyed the evening. He said he wanted to take her on an outing on Saturday, just to get some air. He made it sound like a drive in Connecticut. “I can have you back by dinnertime if you like, if you have work to do this weekend.” She was pleased that he had listened to what she had said about her work, and he was so sweet about it that she couldn't turn him down. He said he'd pick her up at nine o'clock on Saturday morning, and told her to wear casual warm clothes.

The week flew by as she thought of him, and he called her several times, first thing in the morning, when she woke up, or late at night. He sent her funny text messages throughout the day to make her laugh. And he told her that all he could think about was her. He never said a word about it to Morgan in the office, nor did she. This was clearly his private life, and he never shared that with her. He never talked about who he was dating, and was always discreet.

He picked Claire up on Saturday morning at nine o'clock sharp. She was wearing a sheepskin coat in a natural color, and good-looking boots, with jeans and a heavy sweater, with her blond hair down her back like a young girl. She was surprised to find he was driving her to New Jersey, not to Connecticut as she had guessed, but she knew there were beautiful small villages there too, and probably some good restaurants for lunch. But half an hour later she found herself at Teterboro Airport, as he drove the Ferrari up to his plane. It was huge, and she stared at it and then at him, and for a moment she looked scared again. Where was he taking her?

“I thought we'd go to Vermont for the day,” he said as he leaned over and kissed her. “There are some beautiful walks, and pretty inns where we can have lunch. We'll come back this afternoon.” She looked stunned as she walked up the stairway to his plane, where a stewardess and purser waited to greet them. The captain and copilot had clearance for takeoff, and said they'd be leaving in a few minutes, as they sat down in the big comfortable seats. A few minutes later they took off, and the stewardess served them breakfast.

“Are you okay?” George asked her gently, as he leaned over to kiss her. The breakfast was delicious. She had scrambled eggs, blueberry muffins, and a cappuccino, and he had waffles and bacon and black coffee. They chatted on the brief flight over New England, and an hour and a half after they left Teterboro, they landed in Vermont, at an airstrip near a tiny village. He said he skied near there in winter, and had discovered the village the previous year. The leaves were red and orange and yellow, and the pilot had rented a car for them that was waiting when they landed, so they could drive around alone. George stopped the car after they left the airport and kissed her passionately, and she responded, as she felt his hand on her inner thigh. And all she wanted when he touched her was more. And she could feel his passion rising.

“You do crazy things to me,” he said hoarsely, and she smiled.

“You do the same to me,” she whispered, and he began driving again before they could get carried away in the car. He teased her about it, and they both laughed.

“You make me feel like a kid again, a very badly behaved kid at that. I'm sorry, Claire.” But she wasn't—she loved being with him.

He parked the car at the edge of a forest, and there was a small lake with swans on it. They got out and walked for a while. It was chilly—autumn had already come to New England, although it wasn't as cold yet in New York.

They went to a small country inn he knew for lunch. They were both sleepy after that, and George glanced at his watch. “I guess we should head back, if you want to get back to New York tonight.” He looked at her mischievously then, like a naughty boy. “Or…we could stay here. We don't have to, I didn't plan anything, but now that we're here, I hate to leave. It's up to you, Claire, you're the boss. I'll do whatever you say.” It was only their second date, and she wanted to be reasonable. She wasn't a slut, and didn't want him to think she was. But the inn where they'd had lunch was magical, and all she wanted now was to be with him, and never go back. She hesitated for a long moment as she gazed at him, and then whispered as he held her hand.

“Let's stay.” He closed his eyes for a minute as though the words were too sweet to hear and then opened them and looked at her.

“I love you, Claire. I know that sounds crazy to say so soon, but I think we're meant to be together.” And she was starting to feel the same way. She didn't feel panicked, or terrified now—she wanted to be with him. He went to the front desk, and reserved a room, and then he called the crew and told them where to stay that night. And then, laughing like two kids, they went to the local drugstore to buy toothbrushes, and whatever else they needed for the night. Neither of them had planned to stay in Vermont. It wasn't a seduction scene he had sprung on her, it was a decision he had let her make, so she felt comfortable and not forced. And then they rushed back to the inn, and checked in to their room. It was an adorable little room with a fireplace and flowered chintz. There was a big antique four-poster bed, with a down comforter.

George and Claire couldn't get their clothes off fast enough, as their bodies intertwined, their hands searched desperately for each other, and they kissed frantically as they got into the big comfortable bed and began to make love. It was the most passionate sex Claire had ever experienced, born of desire and need and a desperate hunger and thirst for each other.

“I've been looking for you all my life,” he said to her as he kissed her, and only moments later was aroused again. They made love again and again that night, and she held him in her arms against her breasts as he fell asleep. It was the deep peaceful sleep of a sated, happy man. She had sent a text to Morgan earlier saying only that she wouldn't be home that night, she was in Vermont for the weekend and everything was fine.

They hated to check out the next day, after making love again. They stood next to the four-poster bed, feeling as though it had become their home. It was where their love had been born, and their life together had begun, and they both knew they would never forget it.

They flew back to New York late that afternoon, and before they landed at Teterboro, George smiled at her and kissed her.

“Thank you for coming into my life,” he said to her.

“I love you,” she responded. They had proved it amply the night before.

“This is just the beginning,” he said to her as they flew over the lights of the city. Everything looked so beautiful. She felt as though she were seeing it through new eyes. The plane landed gently a few minutes later as they held hands. And whether she had wanted it to or not, Claire knew that a whole new life had begun.

Alex and Sasha were trying to spend time together whenever their schedules would allow, which wasn't as often as they liked. They had lunch in the cafeteria, met for midnight snacks when they were both there at night, and had dinner on their days off. It was working pretty well so far, and they even went to a movie, which they both enjoyed, and congratulated each other for staying awake. And if dinner out constituted a date, they agreed that they were up to date five or six, and it was going well.

Neither of them wanted to rush anything, they were in no hurry, and they wanted to learn everything about each other so they knew fully who they were involved with.

When Valentina came back from Dubai, she asked about him, and Sasha said primly that they were dating.

“That means you're fucking, right?” Valentina asked bluntly, and Sasha groaned.

“Isn't there some other word you can use? I don't mind it when I stub my toe, or something goes wrong at work, like they cancel my day off, but I hate that word as a substitute for making love.”

“Don't be such a prude,” Valentina said to her. It was always the word she preferred, and in her case Sasha knew it was probably the right one.

“And to answer your question, no, I'm not. We don't want to rush it.”

“Is he gay?” Valentina looked shocked, and disappointed.

“Of course not. We just want to get to know each other.”

“How long have you been dating?”

“I don't know, a couple of weeks. It depends how you figure it.”

“You're crazy.”

“Neither of us wants to make a mistake.” Sasha looked sure of what she was saying, even if it sounded like Chinese to her sister, who always rushed in where angels feared to tread, especially with men.

“So what if you do? Then you end it and move on. It doesn't have to be The One every time.”

“Maybe it does for me, and for him,” Sasha said to her. She respected Alex for how he viewed it, which was how she felt too.

“Oh, for God's sake,” Valentina said, rolling her eyes. “How long has it been since you got laid?”

“None of your business,” Sasha answered. And her sister was right, it was longer than she wanted to admit. Now there was Alex, so there was hope on the horizon, all in good time. “So when am I going to meet Jean-Pierre?” She changed the subject. They were in Valentina's apartment in Tribeca, on Sasha's day off.

“In about ten minutes,” Valentina answered with a grin. “He said he'd be here, and he wants to meet you too. He's going to Paris tonight. I'm meeting him there next week while I do a shoot for French
Vogue.
” And she'd said that the shoot in Tokyo had gone well.

The doorbell rang a few minutes later, Valentina went to answer it, and a moment later, Jean-Pierre walked into the living room, looking as though he owned it. He was a tall, powerful-looking, heavyset man with gray hair and piercing dark eyes. If Sasha had met him on the street, she would have said he had a mean face, but he was wreathed in smiles when he gave her a hug and kissed her on both cheeks and looked like a teddy bear. A teddy bear who would eat his young. The smile was wide, but the eyes were fierce.

“I've been wanting to meet you,” he said effusively to Sasha and sounded as though he meant it. “The beautiful young doctor who delivers babies. Your parents must be very proud.”

“Not really,” Sasha said, smiling at him. “Our mother wanted me to be a lawyer—she thinks what I do is a pretty messy job. And my father is very proud of Valentina. His wife was a model too.” He brushed off what she said as though she were joking, although there was truth to it, and he put an arm around Valentina and kissed her. She was wearing a black leather skirt that barely covered her crotch, and thigh-high black suede boots with high heels. Sasha thought her outfit looked a little S&M, but Jean-Pierre seemed to love it as he slipped a hand up her skirt. Sasha was used to men who behaved that way around her sister, they all did, and Valentina liked it. If Alex had done that to her in public, she would have slugged him. And she smiled when she realized he hadn't done it in private yet either, which suited her just fine.

“I am very much in love with your sister,” he told Sasha with a soulful look. “She's a wonderful woman and she makes me very happy.” Sasha tried not to think of what that meant. “I have not been this happy since I was a young man.” To Sasha, that meant he was using Viagra, but she didn't want to think of that either. He looked a little more respectable than Valentina's usual consorts. He was wearing a serious business suit and a dark tie from Hermès, and he was a tad younger than her last boyfriend, but there was still a toughness to him that scared her, and she knew instinctively that it would be dangerous to cross him. And Valentina had no idea what he did for work.

“Do you do business in the States?” Sasha asked him, fishing, but he was too smart for that.

“I do business all over the world. The world is very small now. Your sister and I were in Dubai last week, and we'll be in Marrakech in two weeks, for a little vacation.”

“How fun,” Sasha said, trying to look as though she meant it, but something about his eyes truly scared her. He looked like he had X-ray vision. And she wouldn't have trusted him farther than she could throw him. He hadn't said or done anything wrong, but something about him just didn't feel right.

They chatted for a while, sitting on the couch in Valentina's apartment, and finally Sasha got up and said she had to go. She was meeting Alex at the apartment. The others would be out and she had promised to cook him dinner, which she had warned him he might regret, but he said he was game. She told him he was a very brave man.

Jean-Pierre hugged her and kissed her on both cheeks again when she left, and Valentina was beaming at her, convincing herself that Sasha loved him, which was not the case. Sasha just didn't know what was wrong about him and what to object to, but she was sure that something was wrong. But hopefully Valentina would never find out, and he'd be gone long before he caused a problem. Whatever he did for a living, she was sure that he was good at it, and if it was illegal, maybe he wouldn't get caught.

She took the subway north to Hell's Kitchen, and Alex arrived at the loft a few minutes after she did, carrying the groceries they'd agreed on for dinner. He looked at her closely after he kissed her and asked if everything was okay. She seemed distracted.

“Yeah. I just met Valentina's boyfriend, and I can't tell you what's wrong with him, but something didn't feel right. That always happens with her, and later we find out they were dealing heroin to small children. This one's a little better, or a little smoother maybe, but he's got the meanest eyes I've ever seen. The good news is that they never last long. She's crazy about him, but that doesn't mean anything with her.”

“I don't know how twins can be so different,” he said as he unpacked the food. “It doesn't get any more different than you and your sister.” And he thought that was a good thing.

“I know, it's weird,” she agreed. “She's crazy, and she has the worst taste in men in the world, but I love her anyway.” Alex understood that, and he had been respectful of her and was careful of what he said.

The two of them started to make dinner, enjoying the night because they knew the others would be out, so they had the place to themselves.

Claire still hadn't told anyone but Morgan, but the romance with George was going well. They were going to Palm Beach on his plane the following weekend. There were suddenly a million plans that all sounded like fun to her. He wanted to take her to the Super Bowl where he went every year, the World Series, skiing in Courchevel and Megève, Aspen, Sun Valley, the Caribbean, and the South of France in the summer. There were a thousand things he promised to do with her, and in between he told her he wanted to spend his life in bed with her. Claire was trying not to be, but she was distracted by him. Every time she sat down at her drawing board, at home or in the office, her mind drifted off, and she could see him naked in front of her. She had even done a sketch of him, which she had hidden in a drawer at work. And all he kept saying to her was that he knew that this was it. And even though she didn't want to believe it yet, she knew it was true. This was it. She just hadn't expected him to come into her life so soon. She wondered sometimes if this was what had happened to her mother, when she had fallen head over heels in love with Claire's father, and followed him to San Francisco. But Claire also knew that this was different. George was a legendary success on Wall Street and a brilliant businessman. People said he had the Midas touch. And he would never ask her to give up her career.

She was beginning to think of things she had never thought of before, like getting married and having children. He was opening new horizons and previously locked places in her heart. It was too soon to think about any of it, or making changes in her life, but she was falling madly in love with him.

The following weekend, when he took her to Florida, they spent a night in Miami, and the second night in Palm Beach, and had even more fun than they had had in Vermont. They already knew each other better, and were learning more every day. He didn't like talking about his childhood, but Claire had finally told him about her depressing father, and her mother giving up her career for him. It explained how desperate she was to remain independent and do her work. She never wanted to be dependent on a man, even him. And George understood.

They went water-skiing in Miami off a yacht he had chartered for the day, and ate at all the best restaurants. She felt like a fairy princess living in a dream with him.

“What's happening with Claire?” Sasha asked Morgan on Saturday morning, when they were making coffee in the kitchen. Abby was still asleep. She had been at her computer working constantly on the new play and staying up late, so Sasha and Morgan were alone at the kitchen table. “She's out all the time, and away for the weekend,” Sasha commented. Morgan was quiet for a moment and didn't know what to say. She didn't know the details, but she was aware that Claire was with George for the weekend.

“She's seeing someone,” Morgan said simply.

“Wow, she didn't say anything to me. Do you know who it is?” Sasha asked her.

Morgan nodded, trying not to look worried about it. “It's George.” It took a minute to register, and then Sasha's eyes opened wide.

“Your boss?” Morgan nodded. “How did that happen?”

“We had dinner at Max's restaurant, George was there, and stopped at our table. I introduced him to Claire. And the rest, as they say, is history. They've been crazy about each other ever since.” It hadn't been long, but it was intense. And Claire looked like she was walking on air whenever Morgan saw her. She just hoped it would last, but she wasn't sure. George was hard to read, and even harder to predict.

“Do you think it's for real with him?” Sasha asked with concern.

“I don't know. It could be. One of these days, some woman will land him, and it might as well be Claire. He has a history of short relationships, but just from the little I know, and can sense from her, I don't think he's ever been this serious before.”

“Wow,” Sasha said again. “Where is she this weekend?”

“Florida, I think. They went on his plane.”

“What a cool thing for her, if this works.” Morgan smiled at what she said, and hoped so too.

“What about you?” Morgan asked her as they sat at the table with their coffee. “How's it going with the young doctor?”

“Nicely. Slow but sure. Neither of us wants to make any fast moves and screw it up.”

“That sounds good.”

“It works for us.” Sasha stayed in the kitchen after Morgan went to get dressed. She was going to help Max with his books at the restaurant. They all had relationships now, in various stages, three of them with good, interesting, worthwhile men. The only rotten apple in the barrel was Ivan, and all Sasha could hope, for Abby's sake, was that she'd get rid of him soon.