CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Half-asleep, Claire’s head pillowed on his chest, her leg thrown over his, Gray groped for the ringing phone. “Hello,” he said, his eyes remaining closed as he absently stroked her back. Her skin was so soft, he’d never tire of touching her.

“You bastard! What the hell are you doing there?” Derek asked.

Gray tensed and came fully awake. Claire’s head came up and she stared at him.

“I guess I know the answer at eight in the morning,” Derek snapped. “Let me speak to my sister. Now!”

Claire stiffened against Gray. Sitting up, she clutched the sheet to her naked breasts. Gray would have given anything to take away the stricken look on her face. “I’m sorry. I answered it on instinct.”

Nodding, she swept her hair back from her face and took the phone he extended. “Yes, Derek?”

“You didn’t listen, did you? I might not have known if Red hadn’t called me this morning to tell me you were with Livingston last night.”

Her gaze flickered to Gray who watched her closely. “Red?”

“Your waiter!” Derek snapped. “You probably didn’t notice him since you were with Livingston. How could you be so gullible?”

From the sudden narrowing of Gray’s eyes, he’d heard her brother. “My life is my own. I’ve never interfered in what you do.”

“That’s because no woman is going to use me like Gray is using you.”

She flinched. Her grip on the phone tightened. “I’m going to hang up the phone if you persist in attacking me and Gray.”

“You’d pick him over me? Over your brother?”

“I’m not making that decision; you are.” Her hand raked through her hair again causing the sheet to slip. She quickly grabbed it.

“I can’t believe you’d turn your back on me. That hurts, Claire. Hurts bad.”

“Der—”

The line went dead.

Closing her eyes, she clutched the phone.

Gently Gray removed the phone from her hand and pulled her into his arms. “If he wasn’t your brother…”

His voice trailed off, but from the tone Claire didn’t need him to finish. “He means well.”

“If we don’t want to argue I won’t comment on that. Instead, why don’t I cook us breakfast?” He wanted to take the shattered look from her face.

Her eyes rounded with pleasure. “You can cook?”

“Yes, and I’ll show you … in about thirty minutes or so.”

He drew her down into the bed, kissed her gently, then began to build the passion, the need that, no matter how many times sated, would come again. Claire was with him and nothing or no one was going to change that or hurt her.

*   *   *

Claire and Gray returned from a walk on the beach to a ringing phone. Her hand flexed in his.

“Let it ring,” he said. His mouth, which had been smiling moments ago, settled into a tight, disapproving line.

“It’s all right,” Claire said. She went to the phone on the end table by the sofa. “Derek has to learn that my life is my own.” She picked up the phone dreading the confrontation. “Hello.”

“Claire, I’m sorry if this is a bad time to call,” Gray’s grandmother said.

Claire’s head whipped around to Gray. “No, Mrs. Livingston. It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it to be you.”

The frown on Gray’s face changed to one of puzzlement. He crossed the room to stand beside Claire.

“It’s a shame the way solicitors bother people even on Sunday,” she commented.

“Yes, ma’am?” Claire said and moistened her lips. She almost felt embarrassed by the call. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that his grandmother knew they were sleeping together.

“But I didn’t call to talk about those worrisome solicitors; I called to invite you to the Business Professionals of Charleston’s monthly luncheon a week from Wednesday. I hope you don’t have other plans. A lot of important people will be there and it pays to have contacts,” she said. “You need a sponsor to attend and join, and I’d be so very pleased if you’d let me have that honor.”

Claire couldn’t believe it. “Mrs. Livingston, I don’t know what to say. I’m the one that’s honored. I’ve admired you for so very long.”

“What is it?” Gray asked.

Claire put her hand over the receiver. “She’s invited me to the Business Professionals of Charleston’s luncheon next Wednesday. She wants to sponsor me.”

Instead of the pleased smile she expected, he frowned. “I can sponsor you. You’re my protégée.”

Claire was loathe to point out that he was also her lover.

“Claire, is there a problem?” Mrs. Livingston asked.

She removed her hand from the mouthpiece. “Gray wants to sponsor me.”

“I’m sure he does, but please remind Gray that he hasn’t attended one of the meetings in months, plus you’ll need the support of the women and men in the organization. Since some of those women might have a history with Gray or simply wanted one, they might not warm up to his protégée whereas they have no reason to be less than friendly if I sponsor you. And if they are, I shall take care of them as well they know,” Mrs. Livingston said, her soft voice overlaid with steel.

“I trust your instincts and gratefully accept your sponsorship.”

“I like a woman who can make up her own mind,” Mrs. Livingston said, warmth in her voice.

“Thank you,” Claire said, ignoring the frown Gray was giving her. She listened as Mrs. Livingston gave her the time and place. “I’ll be there and thank you again.”

“Why can’t I sponsor you?” Gray wanted to know the instant she hung up the phone.

Claire’s arms circled his neck. “In a nutshell, because we’re lovers and some women are bad losers.” She almost laughed at the shocked expression on his face. “But in this case I can’t blame them. I’d be upset if you got away.” She’d meant it as a joke, but the sudden tensing of Gray’s body against hers said it was anything but. Her mind scrambled for something else to say, but nothing came to mind.

“Claire, I—”

She pressed her fingers against his lips. “No promises. No regrets.”

He caught her hand and clutched her to him. “I keep telling myself that I won’t let anything hurt you, yet I stay knowing one day I will hurt you most of all. You should hate me.”

How can I when I love you? she thought, knowing she could never say those words aloud. Nor could she tell him she had begun falling in love with him when she was eleven and he was a shy, sensitive boy. “I can’t ask you for more than you can give.”

Gray’s head lifted. Anger shone in his eyes. “You should. If any other man treated you this way I’d take him apart.”

“You mean you wouldn’t want a man to help me to be the best that I can be? A man to respect me? A man to make me laugh? A man to cherish my body and nurture my spirit?”

He stilled as her words sank deeply into him.

“You give so much to me. Yes, letting go and saying goodbye will be difficult, but never having been loved by you would be the real tragedy.”

“I wish…” His voice trailed off. Shutting his eyes, he drew her tightly to him.

Claire didn’t ask him what he wished for. The desperation of his arms was enough. One day he’d be gone and there was nothing she could do to keep him.

*   *   *

Monday morning Claire arrived at Bliss a little after nine with a smile on her face and Gray on her mind. He had spent the night again. After eating a leisurely breakfast on the deck, he had helped her clean up the kitchen, then followed her into the city before he passed her on East Bay to continue on home to change. He’d casually mentioned he’d call her after work to see if she was too tired for him to come by. That, she told him, would never happen. He had appeared relieved.

She could have wept for both of them.

Entering the shop, she relocked the door and went into the back to put the coffee on. No matter what he said, Jana’s betrayal continued to dictate how he felt about lasting relationships. Claire would just have to show him how good it could be with them and let his heart do the rest.

He cared about her. She felt it in the way he touched her, the way he looked at her. She just prayed he’d soon realize it, too.

Taking the carafe, Claire began filling it. Brooke had long since stopped insisting it be bottled water, or that they do espresso. Claire set the carafe on the stand and wondered if Brooke realized how much she had changed. Shopping and looking for a rich husband no longer were the focus of her life. As far as Claire knew Brooke hadn’t gone shopping in weeks. She didn’t have time. If she wasn’t at the shop, she was with John or his children. And apparently enjoying herself tremendously. Now, if only Lorraine could be happy.

Putting away her purse, Claire got the sweeper for the hardwood floors out of the closet. She never would have thought Hamilton would act the way he did. If ever there was a man who loved a woman, it was Hamilton. Going into the shop, Claire began running the sweeper over the floor. Unfortunately caring for another person didn’t guarantee a happily ever after.

It was a life lesson she could have lived without experiencing.

*   *   *

They didn’t get many men in the shop, but when they did, they usually stopped a few feet inside, looked around and if they saw too many women, headed back out the door. Since the shop was fairly crowded with lunch shoppers, all women, Claire expected the man in a tailored suit, with a well-worn attaché case in his hand, that had just entered to do the same.

Claire started around the counter to try and reassure him. Brooke who’d just finished with a customer reached him first. “Welcome to Bliss. I’d be delighted to help you or answer any questions you might have.”

He gave her a friendly smile. “Thank you, but I’d just like to look around if that’s all right?”

“Of course,” Brooke said. “There are shopping baskets available if you’d like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He went to the display of BTS products, picked up the sample jar of moisturizing cream and sniffed. Moments later, he moved to another display, this one of the orange-pear products.

Brooke went to stand beside Claire at the counter. She waited until she had rung up the sale. “He looks like he knows what he’s doing.”

“Same thing I thought. Whoever he’s shopping for is very lucky,” Claire said.

The shop’s door opened and a couple came in. The man had the same long-suffering look she’d seen countless times before in the six weeks the shop had been opened. “I’ll take this one,” Claire remarked.

“All right,” Brooke said. “It will be kind of interesting to see what he buys.”

He purchased nothing. The man had wandered leisurely around the shop for forty minutes, often talking with customers or asking them a question about a particular product. They couldn’t decide if they should be concerned or not. Men, as a rule, hated shopping and usually were much more decisive and faster.

“You think we should call someone?” Lorraine asked as she helped Claire restock the shelves.

“I don’t think so.” Claire placed the last candle on the glass shelf, then stood.

Lorraine came to her feet as well. “Brooke says she can take him, but … he’s coming this way. Empty-handed.”

“And only a few customers are left,” Claire said, her hand unconsciously closing on the candle she’d just shelved.

“Ladies,” he said in greeting. “You have quite a business here.”

“Thank you,” Brooke said, moving to his left. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“As a matter of fact, I think we can be of mutual benefit.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit. Claire and Lorraine tensed. Brooke shifted her weight to one foot, and lifted her hands to her waist. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Claire. “My name is Reginald Turner, Director of Acquisition for Livingston Catalogue.”

Lorraine gasped. Brooke stepped around in front of him. Claire felt her heart plummet.

“I’d like to talk to you about our catalogue carrying a few of your products. When would be a good time?” he asked.

“After closing,” Brooke and Lorraine said almost in unison.

“Is that convenient with you, Ms. Bennett?” he asked.

“How did you know my name?” Claire asked. Had Gray sent him because they were sleeping together?

Before he could answer, Brooke said, “I have to check out a customer. I’ll be back.”

“Mr. Turner?” Claire said.

“Research,” he told her. “I should have announced who I was at first, but I wanted to see if all I had heard about Bliss was true.”

“Who’d did you hear it from?” Claire’s voice was sharper than intended.

“Claire?” Lorraine said, in surprise at her defensive tone, touching her arm to calm her.

“Perhaps it would help to say that I have complete autonomy in choosing products. Management can certainly offer suggestions, but the final decision is mine,” the man said, his gaze steady. “However, your shop came up because my secretary received a jar of moisturizing cream from Mrs. Livingston and couldn’t stop raving about it.”

Claire and Lorraine’s eyes rounded. “Mrs. Livingston?”

“Gray might be in charge, but she still makes her presence known. But I have to tell you that I have an appointment with Gray in an hour to go over several new products we plan for the Christmas issue. He often has suggestions.” He glanced at his watch. “Can I call you later or can you tell me now if you’re interested?”

“Of course, we’re interested,” Brooke said, rejoining the group.

“It has to be Claire’s decision,” Lorraine said.

Brooke opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded. “It’s Claire’s decision.”

Now it was Claire’s turn to stare. A listing in Livingston Catalogue was what they had hoped for from the first. The potential profits were staggering.

“Ms. Bennett?” the man was the one now prompting her.

Apparently more people were aware of her and Gray’s relationship than she had suspected. It wouldn’t matter if his grandmother did sponsor her; everyone would know. She’d always been a private person. With Gray in her life, that was no longer possible.

“One of us will call you, Mr. Turner,” Lorraine said.

Obviously disappointed, he nodded. “Please do. I had hoped I could report that we had an appointment at the meeting. Goodbye.”

“Wait!” Claire called as he turned to go. Gray and his grandmother believed in her, believed in Bliss for good reason. She and her partners had made their bath and body products concept work It was time to take it up a notch. “Would seven-thirty this evening be convenient or would nine in the morning be better?”

Brooke and Lorraine squealed, drawing the attention of the shoppers. Excusing themselves, they went to relieve the customer’s concerns.

Relief swept across the man’s face. “I’ll see you at seven-thirty.”