“Here. Take these. Run whatever tests you want to.”
Five
The abrupt command knifed through Alex’s intense absorption with her scent and her feel. Mentally grinding his teeth, he forced himself to shift from lust to think mode.
Why the hell had she plucked those strands now? She could have waited the entire week to ensure he honored the deal he’d struck with her and her partners. Could have continued to feed his increasing doubts, let him struggle with the question of why a woman with her strong will and fierce work ethic would abandon a child. Instead, she’d laid her cards on the table. Or more precisely, wrapped them around his shirt button.
Slowly, the ice-minded executive preempted the hot-blooded male. Alex wanted this woman with an ache that wouldn’t quit but he needed to understand her motives.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“Okay?” She blinked up at him. “Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
She looked surprised and more than a little deflated by his controlled response. “I thought you’d be pleased. Isn’t that what you wanted? Proof positive of your baby’s parentage? Or in this instance, proof that I didn’t provide half of her DNA mix?”
Yeah, that’s what he wanted. Most definitely. The uncertainty had been hanging over him and his brother for weeks now. Blake handled it with his usual deliberate approach to any and all problems. Alex was more impatient.
Yet instead of providing a definitive answer, Julie had just reopened the debate. If she wasn’t Molly’s mother, who was? The unresolved issue frustrated Alex almost as much as the hunger this woman stirred. It was still there, gnawing at him, as he fumbled for a solution that would keep her within reach.
“I’ll send the sample in tomorrow. It’ll take some time to get results, though.”
“How much time?”
He decided not to mention the mountainous backlog of tests handled by various labs around the country. Or the court case Blake had cited, nullifying seemingly irrefutable results certified by overworked and overstressed lab supervisors.
“At least as long as you’d planned to stay in Oklahoma City,” he said instead.
She took that with a philosophical shrug. “I guess the time frame doesn’t really matter. You know the truth now. You can call off your private investigator. Or sic him on another candidate.”
“There aren’t any others.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she recalled with a crooked smile. “I was the last one on your list.”
Funny how that had worked. She might have been last on his list of possible mothers but since they’d renewed their admittedly brief acquaintance, she’d jumped to the top of another. One that had him sliding a hand through the warm silk of her hair.
“Now where were we? Oh, right.” He dipped his head. “Just about…here.”
He captured her mouth in an assault so swift and sensual that Julie never got a chance to vent her admittedly feeble objections. His lips moved over hers, demanding a response. She resisted for all of three or four seconds.
Sliding her arms around his neck, she angled her head. Alex took that as a green light to hook her waist and tug her against him again. One hand stayed buried in her hair. The other molded her hip, then slipped under her tunic hem. Her rioting senses registered its warmth, its strength, its tantalizingly slow glide to the small of her back.
She found herself riding a tidal wave of relief that she’d ended the DNA farce. Jumbled in with that were memories of their gloriously erotic previous encounter. But those were fast getting edged out by newer, even wilder sensations. She could feel his imprint on every inch of her body. Feel the heat of his hands, his mouth, his thighs. Hunger raged through her like an out-of-control bush fire.
An almost out-of-control bush fire.
Just enough sanity remained for Julie to tear her mouth from his. Panting, she willed air back into her lungs. It was a few moments, though, before she could trust her voice. Even then it came out low and husky and more tentative than she intended.
“This, uh, isn’t a good idea.”
The fire in his blue eyes scorched her. Julie couldn’t decide whether she was more relieved or disappointed when he slowly, inexorably, tamped it down to a slow burning ember.
“Probably not,” he agreed after a pause that had stretched her nerves to their max.
Ignoring her body’s instant wail of protest, she put some space between them once again. “I’ll leave tomorrow. No sense complicating an already messy situation.”
“You can’t leave.”
Her brow creased. “Why not?”
Alex could think of a dozen reasons, not least of which was his now rock-hard resolve to finish what they’d started here.
“You haven’t met Molly. Or my mother,” he added to forestall the protest he saw forming in her eyes.
“What’s the point?”
“The point,” he said with more composure than he was feeling with his insides still tied in knots, “is that Delilah Dalton is a major shareholder in the corporation Agro-Air will become part of. You need to know who you’re dealing with.”
An arrested expression entered her unusual eyes. “You intend to honor the business end of our deal? Even though I’ve given you proof I’m not Molly’s mother?”
Alex stiffened. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know what to think.” Scowling, she shoved a hand through her hair. “You… The baby… This whole crazy situation has got me caught in a vicious crosswind.”
The admission eased his irritation over her assumption he would renege on their agreement. It also gave him the fierce satisfaction of knowing she was thrown for as much of a loop as he was by the way their past had unexpectedly collided with the present.
Deciding he’d better call it a night before he gave in to the urge to pull her back into his arms, Alex beat a reluctant retreat.
“Thanks for coming to Oklahoma City, Julie.” He flicked the curling auburn strands wrapped around his shirt button. “And for these, although the fact that you volunteered them pretty much makes them unnecessary.”
“Yeah, well…”
Uncertainty still clouded her eyes and pursed her lips. Before he could stop himself, Alex dropped a quick kiss on that pouty mouth.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Mother’s expecting us for brunch. Ten o’clock. We’ll need to leave here about nine-thirty.”
Julie was more used to getting up at dawn than lazing around until mid-morning. As a consequence, she woke the next morning at her usual time and futzed around the lavish apartment, making coffee and munching on one of the bagels included in the guest basket on the marble kitchen counter.
With another couple of hours to kill, she tugged on a tank top and a pair of khaki shorts and power-walked the still deserted city blocks. The morning rush was just starting to fill the streets when she took the elevator back up to the penthouse suite. A hot, stinging shower sluiced away the sweat. A frothy shampoo with the exotic mango scent provided by Dalton International for its guests left her hair soft and glossy.
Wrapped in a fluffy bath sheet, she slid open the louvered closet doors and surveyed her meager wardrobe. She’d found herself in some tense situations over the years. The terrifying time she’d flown through a storm into the remote Andean village and almost got swept down the mountain in an ensuing mudslide certainly topped the list. Going head to head with Delilah Dalton was fast taking on the same ominous overtones. So what the heck should she wear to beard a tigress in her den?
Not that Julie had all that many choices. It was either jeans or her trusty black slacks. She went with the slacks, pairing them this time with a sleeveless blouse in rusty rose and a black leather belt accented with hammered Peruvian silver. Dangly silver earrings added a finishing touch and gave her the armor she needed to confront the redoubtable Delilah Dalton. She hoped.
When she answered the bell, Alex approved of her choice. Althoug
h… She couldn’t help noting that the admiring gleam in his eyes lacked last night’s intensity. So did his friendly greeting.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” she replied, trying not to feel as though he’d doused her with a bucket of dirty dishwater.
Okay. All right. So a night’s reflection had convinced him to put the skids on the hunger that had almost gotten out of control again? So he was already regretting his suggestion she remain in the city for the entire week? One of them had to exercise some common sense. Or so she was telling herself when he offered an apology.
“Alex will be a few minutes. He got stuck on a phone call from Madrid.”
“Oh.” Belatedly, she noticed the absence of the small scar. A totally ridiculous relief bubbled through her. “Not a problem. I’m in no hurry. How are you this morning, Blake?”
“Good so far,” he replied with a crooked grin. “We’ll see how long that lasts after brunch with mother.”
“Oh, sure! Make me more nervous than I already am.”
“Alex warned you about Delilah, did he?”
“Not in so many words. But one of my partners knows her, or knew her way back when your folks first started in the business.”
“From what Mom’s told us, those were pretty wild days. ’Course, I’m sure the stories she related were highly edited versions.”
He was really nice, Julie decided as she responded to his smile. Calm, comfortable, and easy to talk to despite those show-stopping good looks.
Unlike his brother, she gulped when the door opened at the other end of the hall. Just the sight of Alex Dalton’s electric blue eyes and strong, square chin made her pulse stutter.
She pondered her reaction to the two men during the short drive through the bright Oklahoma morning. She was darned if she could understand why charming, handsome Blake stirred only mild feminine interest while his twin brought out her wild side. Bad enough that the uncharacteristic side of her had conquered common sense and a lifetime of caution last year. She’d come within a breath of letting it do the same thing last night. Even worse, she silently, contrarily, idiotically regretted that she hadn’t!
She’d fallen asleep with the taste of Alex Dalton on her mouth and the undeniable realization he was the real reason for her jaunt to Oklahoma City. Not the lucrative business deal he’d offered. Not Dusty’s solemn promise to behave. Just sitting here in the Jag’s butter-soft leather seat, with his thigh so close to hers and his tanned hand resting on the gearshift mere inches away, raised little pinpricks of awareness.
She was still feeling their prickle when they pulled into the curved drive leading to a Italian renaissance masterpiece. Her eyes widening, Julie took in a three-tiered fountain a good twenty feet high, a profusion of marble columns and a facade decorated with elaborate cornices.
Alex pulled up at a shallow flight of steps leading to the monster front door. Blake was out of the backseat and holding out a hand to assist Julie before she got her seat belt undone. The Dalton boys were nothing if not courteous.
“Welcome to Casa Delilah,” Blake said with a rueful smile.
She gave the sumptuous facade another sweep. “Not Casa Dalton?”
“Alex and I had struck out on our own before our mother went, uh, formal.”
“Thank God,” Alex muttered as he keyed in a code on a discreetly disguised keypad.
The code must have triggered a silent signal because they’d barely stepped into a soaring, two-story foyer before an honest-to-God butler materialized. Complete with frock coat and white gloves, no less! He crossed the black-and-white tiles in a stately tread and bent an approving nod on the Dalton brothers.
“You’re right on time. Madam will be pleased.”
“Wouldn’t do to keep her majesty waiting.”
Alex’s drawled reply upped Julie’s pucker factor by several degrees. The unabashedly curious glance the butler sent her way only added to it. Alex supplied the introductions.
“Louis, this is Julie Bartlett. Julie, meet Louis. He was major domo to Prince Albert of Monaco until my mother’s last jaunt to Europe.”
Hmm. How do you acknowledge an intro to a butler? Nod? Shake hands? Julie took her cue from Louis, who smiled and said politely, “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bartlett.”
“Same here.”
“Madam is in the green salon,” he informed them. “She’s expecting you, so I won’t announce your…”
“I’m right here.”
The voice boomed through the cavernous foyer. The woman it belonged to was tall and slender and showed nothing of the hardscrabble roots she’d come from. At first. Once Julie got past the piles of gloriously upswept black hair and five or six carats of sapphires in the woman’s ears, she got a glimpse of the hard-packed Oklahoma clay beneath Delilah Dalton’s glittering surface.
“So you’re the woman my son hooked up with in Mexico last year,” the matriarch said, cutting straight to the chase.
Since there wasn’t a whole lot to say in response, Julie merely nodded.
“Are you Molly’s mother, Ms. Bartlett?”
The blunt question provoked instant and irate responses from her sons.
“Oh, for God’s sake!”
“Back off, Del!”
“That’s okay.” Julie’s reply was cool and level. “I understand your concern, Mrs. Dalton. I’ve provided Alex with the answer to that question.”
The woman’s glance whipped to her son. “Well?”
“Julie says she’s not Molly’s mother,” he replied.
“And you believe her?”
“Yes.”
His mother hissed, clearly dissatisfied with that simple response, and Julie waited for Alex to explain that she’d supplied evidence last night to confirm matters. He surprised her by withholding that bit of information.
“Now how about you retract your fangs?” he said instead. “The issue of Molly’s parentage aside, Julie’s our guest and future business partner. And I believe you invited us for brunch.”
Louis faded discreetly away while Delilah matched Alex stare for stare. Her earrings caught a stray sunbeam filtering through the fanlight above the door. The sapphires’ brilliant hue was the exact color of her sons’ eyes, Julie realized, almost as dazzled by the square-cut studs as she was confused by Alex’s reticence concerning the DNA sample she’d provided.
Evidently there was more going on between mother and sons than she was privy to. Somehow she’d managed to land squarely in the middle of whatever it was. She didn’t care for the sensation of being caught between these two powerful personalities. Three, if you counted Blake. He might be more restrained than his twin but Julie suspected all three Daltons would close ranks immediately if they perceived a threat from outside their circle.
She was seriously considering departing the scene and leaving them to sort out their own mess when Delilah led the way to a sitting room decorated to resemble a soft, misty garden. The green salon, obviously. A silver coffee service occupied place of honor on a coffee table set with inlaid marble. With an obvious attempt at graciousness, Delilah gestured to the tray.
“Brunch will be ready shortly. Would you care for coffee while we wait, Miss Bartlett?”
“Yes, thank you. Just black.”
She started to tack on a suggestion that they dispense with formalities and use first names but before she could frame the words, footsteps sounded in the hall. A moment later all eyes turned to the young woman who appeared at the door with a baby in her arms.
“Ahh,” Delilah crooned, the stark planes and angles of her face softening. “Here’s Grace with our little angel.”
Grace being the nanny, Julie guessed. Or au pair, they called them these days. She looked to be in her midtwenties, maybe, with silvery blond hair and liquid brown eyes that smiled shyly at Alex and Blake.
Julie registered the details only briefly before her gaze dropped to the squirming infant in the nanny’s arms. As an only child, Julie had no nieces or neph
ews to compare the baby to. Nor had she spent much time around other folks’ kids. Yet even she could see this particular infant was a heartbreaker in training. Especially when the baby lifted a head topped with pale peach fuzz, gurgled happily and treated everyone present to a toothless grin. Julie was instantly and completely charmed.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Delilah asked with an unmistakable challenge.
She’d get no argument there.
“She certainly is.”
The matriarch’s glance sharpened but before she could follow that thrust with another, both of her sons moved toward the baby. Alex got there first. The hands that had sent ripples of delight down Julie’s spine last night were incredibly careful as he transferred the infant to his arms.
“Hello, Mol.” He brushed a knuckle over the baby’s cheek. “How are you this morning, sweetheart?”
The weirdest sensation inched over Julie as Molly wrapped her tiny fingers around his thumb. For a moment—just a moment—she let herself imagine that this was her child and Alex’s…
Whoa! No point in weaving fantasies of a nonexistent family, or wishing she had one to come home to. So she’d lost her parents while she was still in high school? Only she knew that was the reason she’d spent so much time out of the country over the years, grabbing every crappy job that came her way. It still hurt too much to go back to the small Oklahoma town that had bred her. It was also why she’d yielded to Dusty’s suggestion she throw in with him and Charlie. They were the closest thing to a family she had left.
She brought herself up short when she looked up to find Alex’s mother watching her with the intensity of a hawk. Gauging her reaction to the baby, obviously. Looking for a sign, some flicker of the anguish or guilt a mother might exhibit at the sight of the child she’d abandoned.
Frowning, Delilah started to say something. She was interrupted by an audible burp from Molly. The baby followed that with a stream of regurgitated yuk that landed mostly on Alex’s shirtfront. Julie’s opinion of the Dalton matriarch inched up a reluctant notch when Delilah laughed and preempted the nanny.
The Paternity Proposition Page 6
