The Chase: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

penetrating.
    Claire’s smile froze. Her heart lurched with an awareness she should not feel. An image of her and this stranger jumping into a car, driving down the hill, and sneaking aboard his friend’s yacht, hand in hand and barefoot, filled her mind.
    “I’m sorry.” His gaze was searching. “I was only joking.”
    Had it been a joke? She hesitated. “I hate to say it, but the idea is tempting.”
    He waited.
    Claire realized that if she said “Let’s go,” he would take her hand and they would go.
It was so tempting.
Claire was actually considering leaving her own party to enjoy herself, and that was unthinkable.
    He looked past her, toward the door.
    Claire didn’t have to look to know who was there, and reality hit like cold water splashing in her face. She turned.
    David stood on the threshold of the room. “Claire!”
    Claire’s shoulders stiffened as if someone had placed a heavy yoke on them. “Yes?” She was going to ask for a divorce. Soon—not that night, because it was his birthday, but tomorrow or the next day.
    “Everyone’s asking for you,” David returned, glancing from her to Ian and back again. The look seemed hostile, if not suspicious.
    Claire hesitated, surprised. She looked from David to Ian again. Her husband hadn’t spoken to Ian but was regarding him coolly, and Claire knew jealousy had nothing to do with his coldness. David had never been jealous of other men. He knew she would never betray him that way.
    Ian smiled. “Hello, David,” he said. “Happy birthday. Thank you for inviting me. It’s a great party.”
    David’s nod was curt, his words clipped and tight. “Marshall. Thank you. Let’s go, Claire.”
    Claire was bewildered. Clearly David did not like Ian Marshall. Had a deal gone bad? It wasn’t like him to be so rude. She walked over to her husband but smiled at Ian Marshall. “Shall we join the others?” But what she really wanted to say was
thank you.
    “Of course,” Ian said with an answering smile. But his eyes were on David, and they were filled with wariness.
    Claire didn’t like it at all. The tension between the two men was unmistakable, and the only question was why.
    Guests were finally leaving, most of them smiling and pleasantly inebriated. Claire judged the party a huge success. After the buffet dinner, many of them even danced to seventies rock and roll on the terrace beneath the glowing full moon. Most important, no one except Elizabeth Duke and Ian Marshall seemed to notice her dismal mood or the fact that she and David hardly spoke to each other.
    About thirty people remained. It had gotten cold outside, which was usually the case in the Bay Area, and everyone had clustered in the living room on the various couches, chairs, and ottomans, after-dinner drinks in hand. David was playing a jazz tune on the grand piano. He was a gifted pianist, but he had never pursued his talent. Even having had more than his fair share of wine and vodka, he was playing splendidly.
    Claire wished he hadn’t gotten drunk. Recently—or not so recently?—he had started to slur when he was drinking, and to stagger just a bit. Claire studied him as he switched to an Elton John tune and began to sing. Two women were standing beside him, the blonde clearly mesmerized. They started to sing, too.
    Claire turned and saw Jean-Léon watching her. He glanced at David and then back at her, shaking his head in disgust. Claire tensed but gave her father a reassuring smile and turned away. She left the party, and at the stairs, she slid off her gold sandals. Her feet were hurting her.
    The night seemed to have become endless; she was exhausted yet eager for a new day. With the eagerness was anxiety and fear. She was really going to ask for a divorce. She was going to leave David and somehow be alone.
    It was frightening; it was thrilling.
    Slowly, she went upstairs, sandals dangling from one hand. At least she could stop smiling now.
    On the upstairs landing Claire came