The Paternity Proposition

by Merline Lovelace

  “Are you?”

  “Now just hold on a dang minute!” Swift as a snake, Dusty drew their fire. “You said you had a revised proposal you wanted to discuss with us, Dalton. What is it?”

  “We’re not interested in any revised proposal,” Julie snapped.

  “We might be, missy. We might be. Let’s just hear what the man has to say.”

  The look she shot the old reprobate should have cut him off at the knees. He ignored her.

  “Why’d you want all of us here?” he asked Dalton. “Why me ’n Chuck as well as Julie?”

  “I realize I might have come across a little heavy-handed yesterday,” Dalton began.

  “Ya think?” Julie drawled.

  “But I’ve had time to reconsider,” he continued coolly. “Instead of a cash settlement, I’m thinking we might…”

  “Cash is good,” Dusty interrupted. “Cash works for me.”

  “…work out a business arrangement.”

  “What kind of arrangement?”

  Dalton responded to Dusty’s question but his eyes remained on Julie. “Dalton International hasn’t moved into the agricultural aviation sector. With the upsurge in the crop production, this may be the right time. We’re prepared to make a substantial investment in Agro-Air.”

  “How substantial?” Dusty asked eagerly.

  “Enough to purchase another, newer plane. I checked and found a used Lane AT-602 on the market, available immediately. It only requires one load to spray a 125-acre circle at five gallons per acre. With this increased capacity and spread ratio, you could double your business base.”

  He’d done his homework. Julie had to give him that. Despite herself, she felt a bump of excitement at the thought of the 602’s powerful engine.

  “In the meantime,” Dalton continued, “I’ll have our engineers look at current applications systems. With Dalton International’s resources and Agro-Air’s expertise in the field, we should be able to come up with an even more efficient spread ratio.”

  “And what does DI get in return for this investment?” Dusty wanted to know.

  “We take fifty percent of the profits until we’ve recouped the cost of the initial aircraft. We’ll negotiate a percentage for the purchase of additional aircraft. As for the design and possible manufacture of a new application system, we’ll bear the research and development costs but will pay for technical input and flight testing.”

  Dusty stroked his unshaven chin and peered at Dalton through eyes permanently reddened from dust and cigarette smoke. “That’s it? DI takes a cut of the profits from the new plane and Agro-Air helps design and test possible new application systems?”

  “No. There’s a precondition to the deal.”

  “Ha!” Julie huffed. “I knew it.”

  “Did you?” Dalton’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then you won’t be surprised when I ask you to spend a week in Oklahoma City as my guest.”

  “Right.” Forgetting that she’d already decided to call the man and assure him she was a non-mom, Julie made a moue of disgust. “I camp out in the city, you lift my DNA off a glass or a comb, and this generous offer from DI suddenly evaporates.”

  “The offer is solid. So is my promise that I won’t take anything you don’t want to give.”

  The way he said it sent a shiver down Julie’s spine. Before she could block it, her traitorous mind recalled the mind-numbing pleasure this man had given and taken during their night together.

  “I don’t get it,” she said, sternly repressing the memory of his mouth on hers. “How does my spending a week in Oklahoma City answer the question of whether or not I’m your daughter’s mother?”

  He hesitated and speared a glance at the other two men. Chuck maintained a stoic, unreadable expression. Dusty cocked his head and waited with as much interest as Julie to hear the answer.

  “It doesn’t,” Dalton finally admitted. “What it does is give you a chance to spend some time with Molly and me, see how we fit together. Make sure this is what you want if, in fact, you are her mother. It will also give you an insight into Dalton International’s operations,” he added when her mouth opened on a hot protest.

  Before she could voice it, Dusty leaped into action. “Wait outside,” he ordered, shoving their visitor to the door. “My partners and I need to talk about this.”

  “No, we don’t,” Julie said indignantly as he slammed the door in Dalton’s face. “I’m not trekking off to Oklahoma City for a week.”

  “You make it sound like the wilds of Africa. It’s just down the road a piece, missy.”

  “Dusty. Listen up! I am not spending a week in Oklahoma City.”

  “Well, now, let’s just chaw on that a bit.”

  Alex was leaning against his Jag when Julie exited the office some twenty minutes later. She stalked out of the hangar, her face stormy, those long legs of hers eating ground with stiff strides. He was careful to avoid any sign of triumph when she curtly announced they had a deal.

  “But just so you know, I’m not happy about this, Dalton.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Nor do I intend to have you foot my bill. I’ll make my own arrangements.”

  “If that’s what you want,” he said with a shrug. “But DI maintains a guest suite for out-of-town visitors. It’s empty and available.”

  She hesitated, common sense warring with her obvious anger at being manipulated, then gave a grudging, “All right.”

  “Do you want me to wait here while you pack a few things or follow you to your place?”

  “Just give me the address of the guest suite and a key, if you have one on you.”

  “I planned to drive you into the city.”

  “I’ll drive myself. I’ve got some things I need to take care of first.”

  He’d won the battle. No need for additional skirmishes. With a tight feeling of anticipation he didn’t stop to analyze, Alex extracted a business card and wrote the address on the back along with the keypad code for the door. “And this,” he said as he added another set of numbers, “is my private line. Call me when you get in.”

  He handed her the card but held on to an edge when she reached for it. Her distinctive eyes flashed up to meet his.

  “Thanks for doing this,” he said quietly.

  The wave of temper she’d ridden out of the hangar subsided enough for her to dredge up a reluctant smile. “You might not be thanking me when you end up with Dusty for a partner. He’s the best pilot in twenty-six states but…well…”

  “I can handle Dusty.”

  But could he handle her?

  The thought added another edge to his anticipation as she made for a pickup parked to the side of the hangar with that hip-swinging stride of hers.

  The next week, he told himself during the drive back to the city, should prove interesting.

  Julie covered the same route later that afternoon. She still couldn’t believe she’d let Dusty whine and weasel and guilt her into this ridiculous situation. She’d fully intended to tell Alex Dalton straight out to look elsewhere for his baby’s mother. Sign whatever release the man put in front of her. Spit into the nearest empty cup.

  Yet here she was, cruising east on I-40 toward the cluster of skyscrapers that thrust up from the flat Oklahoma plains like a bundle of steel celery stalks. The only reasons she’d caved, finally, was because Dusty swore a solemn pledge to stay away from the casinos if she agreed to Dalton’s deal. Plus, she would get a first-hand look at DI’s operations, scope out their engineering and test facilities. Added to that was the fact that they were between growing seasons and Julie hadn’t had a vacation in longer than she could remember.

  She would hit the shops, she decided as fallow, straight-lined farm sections gave way to suburbs sprinkled with strip malls and fast-food stops. Visit a couple of Oklahoma City’s world-class museums. Maybe catch the musical Jersey Boys at the Civic Center. And, oh by the way, spend a few hours with Alex Dalton and his family.

&nb
sp; She’d looked them up on Google this afternoon. She’d skimmed through all sorts of articles and financial publications chronicling Dalton International’s steady rise from a small family venture to a mega-corporation that manufactured and supplied equipment to oil-rich countries around the world. She’d also found a profusion of articles and photos from various society pages. There was the two-page color spread of Delilah Dalton’s mansion, thrown open to the public for a garden charity event last spring. And a profusion of photos showing one or both of the Dalton twins with be-gowned and be-jeweled babes on their arms.

  One Dalton in a tux had done serious damage to Julie’s respiratory system. Two had almost killed it. The picture also made her realize how far outside the Dalton orbit she was. She could relate to the cocky pilot who’d offered to buy her a drink in a Mexican border town. Aside from flying, she and Dalton really had nothing in common. Except, of course, one night of steamy sex and a baby he thought she’d abandoned.

  Scowling, Julie used MapQuest to guide her off I-40 and through the city streets. She’d visited the state capitol many times, most recently when she signed over her savings to become a partner in Agro-Air. Yet the seemingly incessant downtown construction made MapQuest necessary to avoid detours and dead ends.

  The thriving hum of traffic and tourists was a testament to a city that owed its origins to the 1889 Land Run, when the government opened lands in Indian Territory that weren’t assigned to a particular tribe for settlement. More than ten thousand hopeful homesteaders had camped on the plain in anticipation of the Run. The sea of tents they erected prior to the cannon booming out had burst into an instant city.

  By the time Oklahoma Indian Territory became a state in 1907, the boomtown had supplanted Guthrie as the territorial capitol. It continued to boom with the discovery of oil. In the 1940s, the massive gear-up for wartime production at the Douglas Aircraft Plant just outside town brought another surge in both population and revenues. That surge took a serious hit during the post-Vietnam drawdown in the defense industry and oil bust of the 1970s. Oklahoma City hung in there, however, its spirit indomitable—as the 1995 bombing proved to the entire nation.

  The agony of that horrific incident had emphasized the best in the Oklahomans character. They were resilient, independent, fiercely proud of their roots. Julie felt every one of those emotions as she wheeled through the streets to the high-rise that housed the corporate headquarters of Dalton International.

  A barrier and uniformed guard stopped her at the entrance to the underground parking. If he wondered what business the driver of a beat-up Ford pickup covered from hood to tailgate with red dust had with Dalton’s chief operating officer, he was too well-trained to show it. Smiling, he passed her an electronic key card.

  “Mr. Dalton advised you’d be arriving this afternoon, Ms. Bartlett. He’s reserved a parking space for you next to the elevator. Just insert the card in the elevator slot and it will take you right up to the penthouse.”

  The penthouse? Well, well. This enforced vacation may not be so bad after all. Feeling almost resigned to a week of shopping and lazing around, Julie maneuvered into the designated parking space and plucked her carryall from the passenger seat. A glass-enclosed elevator whisked her from the dim, subterranean garage into dazzling sunlight, then climbed an outside shaft some thirty stories. The ride gave Julie a breath-stealing view of Oklahoma City’s parks and winding river.

  Once off the elevator, she followed the directions on a discreet bronze plaque to a set of double doors and keyed in the code. She stopped dead just inside the threshold.

  “Ho-ly crap!”

  Directly ahead of her was a solid wall of glass. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a spectacular view from the oval ballpark to the bronze “Guardian” statue crowning the capitol’s dome. She was still standing in stunned amazement, half in and half out of the suite, when she heard a door click shut further down the hall. A glimpse over her left shoulder kicked her pulse into sudden overdrive.

  The guard downstairs must have notified Dalton of her arrival. He strolled toward her with an easy, confident stride.

  “That was quick.” She commented. “How’d you get here so fast?”

  “I live here.”

  “Here?”

  “Just down the hall. It’s convenient for work and entertaining out-of-town guests.”

  “I’ll bet!”

  Her imagination took off, courtesy of all those articles depicting Alex Dalton and his brother with gorgeous females draped all over them. Julie would bet she wasn’t the first “guest” to be housed so conveniently.

  “If you think you’ll just waltz through a set of connecting doors and pick up where we left off last year, you’ve got another think coming.”

  A smile creased his tanned cheeks, which only made her stiffen even more.

  “Look, Dalton…”

  “You’ve got the wrong Dalton.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m Blake, Alex’s brother.” He held out his hand. “And you, I take it, are Julie Bartlett.”

  “I, uh, yes.”

  The resemblance was astonishing. She was still trying to take it in when he took her hand in a strong, sure grip.

  “Alex told me you’d agreed to his proposal.” Keen blue eyes so like his twin’s smiled down at her. “You’re under no obligation to do this, you know.”

  “I got the impression from your brother that the Daltons were standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the issue of the baby’s parentage.”

  “We are, but that doesn’t mean we’ll ride roughshod over you—or whoever Molly’s mother turns out to be.”

  Julie almost believed him. Might have, if the elevator hadn’t pinged at that moment and disgorged his twin. One Dalton packed a powerhouse punch. Two had her sucking air. Especially when Alex turned on an identical grin.

  “I see you’ve met the runt of the litter.”

  “I have.” She scrambled to recover. “He, er, mentioned that he lives on this floor.”

  “So do I.”

  A casual wave indicated another set of double doors to the right. Gulping, Julie realized she’d have a Dalton boxing her in on both sides.

  “I made reservations for dinner at a restaurant here in town. Seven okay?”

  It certainly was. She much preferred meeting his mother on neutral ground. Even the formidable female Dusty had described couldn’t kick up too much of a ruckus in public.

  “Seven’s good.”

  “I’ll pick you up here.”

  She nodded and let the door click shut behind her, wondering again why in hell she’d let herself get talked into this!

  An hour later she was showered, blown dry, lip-glossed and encased in the only suit of body armor she’d brought with her.

  She’d spent most of the past three or four years in jeans, cut-offs or coveralls. Hadn’t had many occasions to “girl” up. As a consequence, she eyed her travel-proof, slinky black slacks and matching bead-trimmed tunic with some misgiving. The two pieces had proven fire-, smoke- and wrinkle-resistant. She’d crammed them into her carry-all dozens of times and could attest to their durability. Whether they were suitable for dinner with the Daltons was another matter.

  The admiring gleam in Alex Dalton’s eyes when she answered the door bell killed most of her doubts. At least she thought it was Alex. Yep, it was. The tiny scar on his chin ID’ed him.

  Another memory suddenly surfaced. The man she’d locked lips and hips with all those months ago sported another distinguishing mark. A very kissable birthmark right…

  Involuntarily, Julie’s gaze dropped to a point about two inches below his belt. Just as swiftly, she whipped it up again. Hoping to heck her thoughts weren’t blazing red in her face, she grabbed her purse.

  “Blake enjoyed meeting you,” Alex said as he stood aside for her to precede him out the door.

  “I enjoyed meeting him, too.” She glanced toward his brother’s end of the corridor. “Is he driving to the restaur
ant with us?”

  “We’re walking, if that’s okay. It’s only a short jaunt. And Blake’s not joining us for dinner.”

  “So it’s just you, me and your mother?”

  And possibly the baby. No, surely they wouldn’t bring an infant to a crowded downtown restaurant. As they approached the elevator, Julie geared up for her opening round with the no-holds-barred Delilah.

  “Actually,” Alex said, tossing a monkey wrench into her mental prep, “it’s just you and me.”

  Four

  “Just the two of us?”

  Julie came to a dead stop and eyed the man at her side with instant suspicion. She had to admit he didn’t look as though he was plotting something devious. Just the opposite, in fact. In crisply ironed khakis and a short-sleeved, open-necked shirt with a faint blue stripe, he looked good enough to eat. Whole. Without taking time to chew.

  Still, there was the small matter of his thinking she was capable of abandoning her own child. And let’s not forget blackmailing her into spending a week in the city.

  “I thought one of the reasons behind this excursion was, how did you put it? So I could see how you and the baby fit together?”

  “It is.” Unruffled, he pressed the elevator button. “But before I throw you to the tiger otherwise known as my mother, I thought we should get to know each other a little better.”

  Better? Like they didn’t already possess an inside and very intimate track on each other? Her gaze made another involuntary drop to his belt buckle. Smothering a curse, she yanked it up again.

  Damn! She’d darn well better control the images that kept jumping into her head at the most inopportune moments. If she didn’t, this was going to be a looooong week.

  They exited the DI building into blazing July heat only partially mitigated by the shadows of the downtown skyscrapers. Thankfully, the restaurant was only a block away. The elegant French bistro sat just off the lobby of a ’30s-era hotel recently renovated to the tune of some fifty million dollars. According to one of the articles Julie had devoured, Dalton International had contributed a good portion of the renovation funds. Which no doubt explained why the bistro’s chef/owner herself hurried around the stone counter separating the bricked-in kitchen from the main dining area.