Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CLAIRE
Claire turned slowly in front of the mirror, studying herself from every angle.
Dresses lay scattered across the guest suite as she struggled to choose between them.
She’d already spent half an hour changing outfits, searching for the perfect look to celebrate Hamish’s birth.
Her father had raised a questioning eyebrow at the sight of her bulging travel bag moments before Jay arrived to pick them up.
All this for one night in the country, he’d asked, knowing full-well that the selection of a particular frock had little to do with the impending soiree and everything to do with a tall, handsome man.
After exhausting every option, she finally settled on a navy beaded sheath dress.
She’d bought it for a Hollywood fundraising dinner she never ended up attending.
The dress had never left the hanger, and the tags still clung to the sleeve.
She laughed softly when she noticed the dangling price tag, having completely forgotten how expensive it was.
Calvin had paid for it since the gala had been one of his events.
The memory pulled her back to the moment she’d modeled the dress for him—tasteful, elegant, and far too conservative for his liking.
She could still picture the disappointment in his eyes.
"That's it? All day on Rodeo and that's the best you can do?"
"You don't like it?" she asked, turning around.
"Well, you look gorgeous in it, but I just don't think it'll work for this particular event."
"Why not?"
"Surely you can show a bit more skin than that."
"It's a children's charity dinner, Cally. I don't think skin is on the list."
"Your skin is always on my list."
With a final fluff of her hair, she turned to make her way downstairs. She opened the door of her suite, surprised to find her father standing on the other side.
"You look stunning." Harry smiled.
"Thank you." Claire reached and tweaked his bowtie. "And you look so handsome."
"May I?" He offered his elbow.
"I'd be honored." She linked her arm through his.
Guests began to arrive, and the estate buzzed as the event staff put on a show of their own.
Parking cars. Collecting outerwear. Presenting silver trays filled with champagne flutes and bite-sized culinary treats.
Claire reintroduced herself to some of Hamish's associates while Harry shook hands with several long-lost friends.
She casually moved her eyes around the grand foyer, filling with hordes of smart-suited men and coiffed, bejeweled women.
She had yet to make contact with a particular pair of bespeckled brown eyes.
She and Jay had taken their time returning to the house, exploring more of the vast estate after the rain ended.
Once inside, they’d spent the afternoon hours in Hamish's library—she on one sofa and he on another. Facing each other, they talked and read a selection of magazine articles aloud. Later, they laughed hysterically as Jay read excerpts from a dusty old novel entitled Satisfying the Mature Man, by one Jarvis Ridley. At one point, she looked over and found his eyes closed, so she watched him for several minutes. He'd made no mention of their conversation at the hilltop hideaway, which Claire appreciated, and he’d reacted exactly as she expected. While she hadn’t shared everything about Calvin, she'd made big progress.
She'd tell him everything eventually. By the feelings growing inside her, she guessed sooner rather than later.
Those peaceful thoughts caused her own eyes to grow heavy, and she fell into a deep sleep.
Jay woke her an hour later with a gentle nudge.
His arm around her waist, they moved through the manor and climbed the staircase together.
At the top, he placed a kiss on her forehead with a promise to meet her downstairs later.
Still on Harry’s arm, she spotted Molly greeting guests, as though the role of hostess had become her life's work. The two women exchanged knowing nods. Harry leaned in and whispered in his daughter's ear.
"I’m going to miss having you on my arm."
"Dad, I’m not going anywhere.”
Harry looked over her shoulder. Jay walked toward them, moving quickly through the crowd of guests. Claire gave her father a gentle pat then slipped her arm free, her smile widening with each step she took toward Jay.
"That's what I thought," Harry said.
Tiny white lights sparkled in the trees like a thousand shimmering diamonds.
The rain, while brief, had been a welcome blessing, giving the grounds a sparkle and making everything appear fresh and new.
The band played all of Hamish's favorites, many of which had become favorites of Claire's by default.
Spending summer nights dancing barefoot on the patio had helped to create a certain picture in her then teenaged mind. A picture that Jay now brought to life.
They owned the dance floor for much of the night, just as they had at Hamish’s London dinner. But now a hush began falling around them as the guests, sufficiently fed and liquored, splintered off into small groups to chat the night away.
"How are your feet?" Jay asked.
Claire groaned. "Ready for a pair of comfy bunny slippers."
"What do you say we slip away for a while? I know a great little piano bar.”
They weaved through the mingling masses, their fingers intertwined.
She caught sight of Molly, cigar in hand, holding court with a bevy of gentlemen.
They encircled her, hanging on every word then laughing uncontrollably as she no doubt walked a very thin line between tasteful ladylike repartee and full-blown obscenity. That's my girl, Claire thought.
She continued to scan, hoping to lock eyes with her father or Hamish. She eventually found both men, enjoying snifters of brandy and swapping stories. Claire's heart tightened. God, I wish I had my camera right now. She settled for a mental snapshot of the two men who'd loved her best in life.
The din of the band and the chatter of the guests softened with each step away from the party.
Inside the main house, they moved along a dark corridor on the east side of the manor.
Jay guided her along the passageway until they turned a corner, revealing a dead end.
There were no windows or doors to speak of.
Just a collection of elaborate frames dotting the paneled walls, showcasing oil paintings.
"I think we made a wrong turn," Claire said.
"Things are not always what they seem."
Jay smiled and stepped behind a floor-to-ceiling tapestry, his outstretched hand beckoning her to follow. Claire pulled the tapestry back and slipped through a hidden portal.
"But how did you…” She began, marveling at the sudden appearance of an intimate yet elaborate conservatory.
An arched recess held a small stage at the opposite end. A sleek Baby Grand sat proudly on display. Passing several rows of theater-style seats, Claire couldn't help but laugh. "It's absolutely fantastic. How did you know this was here?"
"Hamish showed it to me earlier this evening,” Jay said. “He asked if I needed anything, and I told him I needed a piano."
“I don’t get it,” Claire’s head cocked to one side. “You said you don’t play.”
The words barely left her mouth when several gentlemen entered. Two carried large candelabras, which they lit and placed on either side of the small stage. A third gentleman settled himself on the bench in front of the instrument and played an elaborate introduction.
“I don’t play…” Jay motioned. “but he does.”
The musician’s initial upbeat notes were replaced with something softer and more sensual—a tune Claire recognized immediately. He motioned to her feet with a knowing look. Laughing, she didn’t argue as she slipped off her strappy heels. Together, they moved to the music filling the air around them.
“A little Swing Time, Mr. Astaire?” she said.
He gave her a squeeze. “Nothing but the best for my lady.”
“Are you trying to impress me?”
"We'll need to get rid of the piano for that," he said.
Being back in his arms felt like an answered prayer.
Claire understood their collective need to proceed with caution, but longed to move forward—especially after their rain-soaked afternoon.
As the final notes of the song faded away, Jay kissed her.
This kiss differed from the soft, gentle one they had shared at her secret hideaway.
This kiss promised more and demanded more.
The kind to hold them until they could disappear into the dark of the night.
She pulled away and smiled. Is he reading my mind, she wondered, still breathless. Her lipstick stained the corners of his mouth, and she reached up to wipe the traces away.
“Jay Avery, you swore this new line was completely smudge-proof,” she said.
"Looks like we’re gonna need a lot more R and D.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed each fingertip.