The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

  "Probably," he said casually. "I know a lot of people."

  "Mostly women."

  He winked. "The best kind of people."

  "Not always."

  "Tell me what you know and I'll see what I can do. Does he have a sister?"

  "Yes, an older one. She's divorced."

  "Perfect."

  Cassie looked at him, concerned. "You won't seduce her, will you?"

  "Only if she's attractive."

  "Kevin!"

  "Don't worry about my agenda, tell me more about Larry."

  "Laurence," she corrected. "Don't under any circumstances call him Larry."

  "Fine."

  After she gave him some more information about Laurence, he picked up the phone. "Let me call my gardener."

  "What? Now?" she asked, appalled.

  He raised his hand and she quieted. "Hello? Yes, I'm fine. Get your shovel. I need some dirt." He glanced at her; she smiled.

  * * *

  Kevin tugged on his tie, annoyed. He felt as if he were in a business meeting. He hadn't attended one of those mind-numbing sessions in years. He lifted his glass and thought of Cassie. She was the reason he was here. It had only taken him four days to get all the information he needed. Wooing Laurence's sister was pathetically too easy. She was a shy, desperate thing, eager for attention and swallowing up his like a thirsty giraffe. It was evident how she had become a pawn in the Shelton game.

  "You wanted to see me," Laurence said, slipping into the booth.

  "Drinks first," Kevin said.

  They chatted until there was a semblance of camaraderie.

  "I had dinner with your sister last night," Kevin said.

  "I see."

  "Sweet girl."

  "If you're interested in her, I have no objections."

  "If you knew me better, you would."

  "Why?"

  Kevin looked at him, amazed. "You mean my reputation hasn't preceded me? That's disappointing. I've worked hard at it."

  "I know you like women. As long as you treat my sister well..." He shrugged, leaving the rest of the statement understood.

  "Yes. I believe your sister has been treated badly by men. She told me about her ex-husband. However, I found it unfortunate that she didn't know why he had divorced her. She said it was so sudden."

  Laurence's eyes became hard, his bitterness toward his ex-brother-in-law clear. "He was a conniving gold digger and she was better off without him. I told her that. She chooses to remain naive and not believe me."

  "Perhaps she would believe you more if you told her that your father paid him three hundred thousand to get out of her life. Don't look surprised. I had a little chat with him before I came here."

  Laurence slowly stiffened. "Why did you really ask me here? What's this about?"

  "This is about using influence to run other people's lives. Warren's great-grandfather used to work for your family, right? Oddly he disappeared just when the family business made a profit."

  "There's no proof."

  "Of course not. But there's always time to find some."

  Laurence finished his drink.

  Kevin leaned back in his chair. "It seems to me that Sheltons have a hard time letting go of what they believe belongs to them. Adriana isn't yours anymore and the thought of her being another man's wife bothers you."

  "No. If he was worthy—"

  "Adriana loves Eric."

  "He put my daughter's life in danger."

  "And you watched your father set your sister up as a sacrifice. Who are you to judge?"

  Laurence stood.

  "Don't go yet. I want you to learn a little lesson about threats."

  Chapter 16

  Adriana sat on the couch as Cassie talked on the phone. She could hear the kids giggling in the nursery and smiled to herself. Cassie finally hung up the phone and turned to her. "That was Kevin. You don't have to worry about Laurence anymore."

  "Good. I suppose shallow, superficial womanizers have their use in this world. I'll have to thank him."

  "Now you can tell Eric."

  Her joy faltered. She hadn't seen him since he left her place that day. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the plan. When Laurence had visited to make sure Eric was gone, she had to do everything not to bare her teeth. Now they could be together, but she wasn't sure what that meant. Would he feel obligated because she had fought for him? "Let's go shopping," she said. "You buy and I'll pay you back."

  Cassie shook her head. "No."

  "Okay, then you shop and I'll watch you."

  "No."

  She rested her head back. "I need a distraction."

  "Have you cashed Eric's check yet?"

  "No." She took the business plan and check out of her bag. "I've been carrying it around with me. A reminder of what I'm worth to him. I might as well sign it." She flipped the check over and screamed.

  Cassie rushed over to her. "What!"

  Her hand trembled as she held the check. "Oh no!"

  Cassie shook her. "Adriana, what is it?"

  "He loves me! He wrote it on the back of this check." The sight of his face when she'd crumbled it up and stuffed it in his shirt flashed through her mind. He had thought she was rejecting his love. Her gut clenched. "I'm a jerk."

  Cassie looked at the check, shaking her head. "You wouldn't have known."

  "I should have looked at it."

  Drake came home. "Hello, ladies," he greeted.

  Cassie pointed a finger at him. "Your brother is an idiot."

  "Is that a news flash?"

  "He wrote 'I love you' on the back of a check."

  "We thought it'd be romantic."

  "We?" She covered her eyes and groaned. "I should have known you would have been part of this. What do you know about romance?"

  Drake wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. "I got you, didn't I? I wrote you poetry."

  "That you had read while I was on a date with another man."

  "All that matters are the results. Eric found out that Adriana doesn't love him."

  Adriana held the check to her chest. "But I do."

  "Then why did you crumble up the check?"

  "Because I hadn't looked at the back."

  "Hmm." He rubbed his chin, recognizing their error. "We hadn't accounted for that."

  * * *

  Eric counted the money, then glanced at Carter across his desk. "This is twice what you owe me."

  "Just call me Rumpelstiltskin. I turn straw into gold."

  Eric narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "How?"

  "Nina gave me an idea. I thought of something people would buy. Then the product came to me. Used cars. I bought several at an auction and sold them—"

  "Double the price bought." He handed him the extra money. "I'd rather pull my teeth than take money from a used car salesman."

  Carter winced. "At least they move."

  "For how long? A day?"

  He shrugged.

  Eric shook his head. "How does your crooked little heart beat?"

  "One sucker at a time."

  "Thanks for what you did."

  "Glad to help."

  They both nodded, the gesture saying more than words.

  The phone rang. "Henson."

  "You wanted some information on Keith Trenton?" Clay asked.

  "Yes. You have something for me?"

  "He's definitely an artist."

  He glanced at Carter. "A con artist?"

  "Correct. Five names, three Social Security numbers. Known for choosing women to finance different projects. He's too clever to be caught on fraud."

  "What's his address?" He scribbled the number down, mumbled, "Thanks," and hung up. He looked at Carter and stood. "I have to go. I'm thinking of buying some art." He opened the door and stopped. "How are you and Serena?"

  "I think I'll keep her awhile longer. With women like Lynda out there I'll stick with what I have. Speaking of Lynda-—"

  "Forget about her."
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br />   Carter looked confused. "Why?"

  "She's a witch, but she did me a favor. She forced me to face some of my demons."

  Carter shivered with the memory of her. "Yes, she was one ugly demon." He sighed. "Revenge would have been sweet, but if you want to let this go, fine."

  "I do." He hesitated. "Uh, say hi to Serena for me and if you ever want to..." He left the statement unfinished.

  "I'm not really a talker."

  Eric adjusted his glasses. "I know a good bar. If you get drunk enough, you can talk about anything."

  "You never get drunk."

  "I wasn't talking about me."

  Carter laughed and stood, following him out the door.

  * * *

  At home, Carter cleaned up the living room, gathering all of Serena's magazines. A bunch of papers fell out of Home and Garden. He picked them up and stared at them stunned. They were advertisements for baby items.

  "What are you doing?" Serena asked, coming into the room.

  He held up an advertisement, his heart pounding. "What's this?"

  "What does it look like?"

  "You're not—" He couldn't finish, thoughts of money going to diapers and hospital costs filling his mind. He quickly calculated when they'd last had sex.

  "No, I'm not," she said. "But hopefully one day."

  His heart returned to its normal rhythm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "You said you didn't want kids until we had enough money. I wasn't sure the day would ever come. So I dreamed about it."

  "You never gave me the chance to make any money. You spent what we have and ignored anything I said."

  She shrugged. "I'm just used to getting my way, I guess."

  It was a lame excuse, but at least it was honest. He put the papers on the table. "Money's important to me. I never had any and you knew that when you met me. If you want a rich man who will give you lots of babies and provide for you, you have the wrong husband."

  She lowered her eyes. "I know."

  A heaviness settled in his chest. "Do you want a divorce?"

  "No." She looked at him and for the first time in a long while he didn't feel invisible.

  "I haven't been fair to you. I wanted to compete and impress my friends so much that I lost sight of our marriage, but I'd rather change my friends than my husband."

  The heaviness began to ease. "What made up your mind?"

  "I saw you had circled an ad for a divorce lawyer."

  "I guess I was dreaming too. Dreaming of a wife who loved me, admired me."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I do love you."

  He drew her close. "I love you too." He kissed her, his mouth giving credence to his words. "I'd love you more if you'd stay away from on-line shopping."

  "I will." She rested her cheek against him. "I would like a family some day."

  He gently stroked her hair, wondering how they had become strangers. "Okay, some day. Right now let's get to know each other again."

  "How?"

  "I know one way." He took her hand and pulled her toward the bedroom.

  * * *

  Keith swore when he opened the door and saw Eric. "Hell, I was scared you'd come here one day," he said, kicking the door wider.

  Eric walked into the studio. "If you were truly scared, you would have disappeared by now."

  Keith grinned. "And miss you at work?"

  "I'm not working."

  He smoothed his goatee. "True. From what I've learned, Lonely Hearts aren't your thing. More like the Jamaican Hustle."

  Eric glanced at him, but said nothing.

  Keith continued. "But don't knock what I do. It's really easy and you don't get caught. Women like Adriana..." He shrugged. "You know. They're an easy mark. I saw her at a gallery and just knew. Took me less than a month for the first check."

  Eric looked around the room.

  "Junk, isn't it?" Keith asked, trying to read his thoughts. Eric's silence was beginning to make him nervous.

  Eric's voice was soft. "I have another word for it." He looked at one picture where Keith was painting over the signature. "KSY?" Eric turned to him. "Another name?"

  "Yes. Adriana nearly caught me. Never had to think so fast." Keith shrugged. "It was an old painting I hadn't adjusted." He cleared off a stool and sat. "I'm just a businessman. I'm not hurting anyone. Actually, I make them feel good. Adriana needed someone to help and I volunteered."

  "Hmm."

  "So I play the role of protégé. And it's easy money." He looked around his well-furnished studio. "You won't believe how easy this is."

  "Unfortunately, I can. You could vomit on something and fetch a good price." He frowned at a picture. "I see you've already done that."

  "Careful with your criticism. I recently sold a painting for six thousand dollars. A widow with a nice inheritance."

  A slow, wicked grin spread on Eric's face.

  Keith read the expression and swallowed, then swore. "No, you can't... But—"

  "Don't worry, I'll cover for you and explain why you suddenly had to leave."

  Keith narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you won't take the money?"

  "You don't, but that's not your problem."

  * * *

  Eric sat in his kitchen, trying to create the best story to give Adriana about Keith, when his doorbell rang. He answered it.

  Adriana stood there, tapping her foot. "I don't know whether to kick you or kiss you."

  "Do you take requests?"

  "No." She opened her coat, revealing a blue blouse, plaid skirt, and thick-heeled black shoes. Glasses hung around her neck. She pulled a ruler from her jacket.

  Eric's eyes widened with pleasure. "You're a teacher."

  "Yes, and you're about to learn a lesson."

  "Great." He pulled her inside and closed the door. He grabbed a chair from the kitchen and set it in the living room. He sat and looked up at her. "Now you pretend I'm your favorite pupil that you had to keep after class." He pointed to the TV. "That's the blackboard, right? And I'm sitting in the front seat and you—"

  "Eric—"

  He shook his head. "No, not Eric. Try something different like—"

  "Eric!"

  He looked up at her and frowned. "What?"

  "I'm in charge." She rested a foot on his lap. The stance inched up her skirt.

  He peeked at her panties and grinned. "No Fruit of the Looms."

  "No."

  His hand inched up her thigh, stopping between her legs. His voice deepened. "Crotchless, even better."

  She saddled him, undid his buttons, and took off his shirt. She reached for his trousers. "You've been a bad boy and—"

  He held up his hand. "Wait, before I forget."

  "But—"

  "Just wait." He lifted her off his lap and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Adriana fell face down on the couch and moaned. "I don't believe this."

  "Adriana?"

  She rolled onto her back and glared at the envelope in his hand. "That had better not be another business plan."

  Eric held it out to her. "No, it's from Keith."

  Adriana opened the envelope and pulled out a check. "This is from your account."

  "I deposited the money just to be safe." He unzipped his trousers.

  "Why?"

  Her pulled them off and tossed them on the floor. "I spoke with Keith. He told me he had sold a painting and wanted to reimburse you for your help."

  "Keith sold a painting? Isn't that great!" She smiled, smug. "I told you he had talent."

  "Hmm." He scratched his chin. "He's moving to New York."

  "That's to be expected." She tucked the envelope in her bag. "Now will you trust me to choose my friends?"

  No. But he wasn't in the mood to argue. He pulled her onto his lap instead. "Let's finish what we started."

  "Oh yes. Your first lesson..." She took a piece of paper out of her bra and unfolded it. "Is this."

  "You haven't cashed it yet?"

&nb
sp; "No."

  "Why not?"

  She flipped it over. "Because of this."

  He stared at her, blank.

  She shook the check. "Eric, this says 'I love you.'"

  He nodded slowly then shook his head. "What's your point?"

  "The day I crumpled up the check I hadn't looked on the back. Don't you see? I didn't know you loved me."

  "Okay, but do you realize how much this is?"

  "I don't care. The words mean more than the amount. Why didn't you just tell me?"

  Because saying the words made them too powerful. "I wanted to show you."

  She took off his glasses and stood. "I am very disappointed with you, Eric." She set his glasses on the TV and grabbed her ruler. "I had such hope for you, you demonstrated such promise." She slapped the ruler against her palm. "I usually can spot the students with the most potential."

  "But I—"

  Adriana directed the ruler at him. "You will not speak unless I give you permission. Is that understood?"

  He nodded.

  She slapped the ruler again. "Good." She circled around him, continuing to slap her palm. "So why did you behave so bad? Why did you push me away when you knew that you loved me? I suggest you close your mouth, Eric, unless you want it rinsed out with soap."

  He sent her a glance but said nothing.

  She stood behind him and used the ruler to trail a sensuous path down his arms and chest. "I believe I know the answer. You were afraid of what you felt." She whispered the words, her lips brushing against his ear. "It was something you couldn't control and you like being in control." She gently nipped his lobe. "But this time you weren't and that upset you. So at first you didn't say anything about your feelings because you thought I didn't love you. Then when you discovered I did..."

  She stood in front of him and cupped the back of his head. "You still punished us." She undid her blouse. "Yes, and I do mean us." She brought his head to her chest. "You hurt me by denying what you felt."

  His tongue darted between her breasts. "Feel that?"

  "You're talking, Eric."

  He wrapped his arms around her, bringing her closer. "Sorry."

  "As I was saying, your denial—"

  He shook his head.

  "You weren't in denial? Fine, let's call it lack of communication."

  He shrugged and kissed a path up her chest.

  "You didn't think our feelings were enough. To you feelings are annoying, uncontrollable things and not a strong enough foundation to stand on. You've wondered about them for years. Is love strong enough?" She tugged off his boxers. "Fortunately, I have a theory. Love is as strong as the people who claim it. Some people's love, while genuine, is as durable as flint. But that's not us." She eased onto him. He looked anxious. "Relax, love, I'm wearing one." She moved against him, tightening around him as he filled her.