Danielle Steel - The Apartment

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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.