Danielle Steel - The Apartment

“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.