“Blake’s in the kitchen, seasoning the steaks,” she advised. “Alex, you’re in charge of drinks. I’ll have one of your patented margaritas.” Her cool gaze moved to Julie. “You should try one. Alex has a special touch. Or did you get your fill of tequila during all those months in Mexico?”
Julie dodged the thinly veiled demand to know whether she’d swilled alcohol during her possible pregnancy. “Actually, I spent more time in South than in Central America. Margaritas aren’t as popular in Chile as they are in Mexico.”
“But Chile does produce some remarkable wines,” Delilah persisted with bulldog tenacity.
“Yes, they do.”
With a roll of his eyes, Alex stepped in to end the unsubtle inquisition. “Is Molly awake, Mom?”
The diversion worked. “I heard her stirring a few minutes ago.”
“Why don’t you have Grace bring her down while I mix up the drinks?”
“I’ll go get her.”
While Delilah was gone Alex busied himself at an outdoor kitchen crafted of stacked stones and gleaming appliances. A built-in refrigerator provided ice. Under-counter cabinets yielded a blender. The overhead bar opened to an array of bottles.
“Would you prefer something other than a margarita?” he asked. “I’ve been known to mix up a mean banana daiquiri.”
“Ugh! I hate bananas. Just the smell of them makes me ill. My mother couldn’t stand them, either.”
He paused with a bottle in hand, an arrested expression on his face.
“What?” Julie demanded.
“We’re just discovering what Molly will and won’t eat in the baby food department,” he replied slowly. “She spits out anything with so much as a hint of banana.”
“Oh, no! Don’t start down that road again.”
She wasn’t Molly’s mother. She hadn’t passed on any aversions, inherited or otherwise.
“Lots of people don’t like smelly, mushy fruit,” she protested.
“Yeah, I guess.”
But the doubt was still in his face when he turned back to the bar.
Sighing, Julie let her gaze roam the formal garden on the terrace just below. Roses bursting with color, neatly trimmed boxwood hedges, a multi-spherical bronze sundial positioned to catch the eye as well as the sun. Delilah Dalton had certainly spared no expense having her grounds landscaped.
As if conjured up by the thought, the matriarch re-emerged from the house. A pink cheeked and bright-eyed Molly rode her hip. Until the baby spotted Alex, anyway. With a sound halfway between a coo and a gurgle, she seemed to twist right out of Delilah’s grasp.
“Look out!”
Julie lunged forward, but the older woman had already tightened her hold on the squirming infant. The look Delilah sent Julie through narrowed lids telegraphed two distinct messages. One, she knew how to handle babies. Two, such apparent concern from a mother who may have abandoned her child was suspect at best.
Alex’s broad shoulders intervened, cutting off the unspoken communication. “Come here, sweetheart.”
While he settled the baby in the crook of his arm, Molly’s nanny appeared with a bottle. “She needs feeding, Mr. Dalton.”
“I’ll do it. Unless…”
His eyes met Julie’s with a question in their blue depths. She gave a small shake of her head. Much as she would enjoy holding the baby, she didn’t want to underscore Delilah’s suspicions. More important, there was no point forming an attachment she would only have to sever in less than a week.
“Your drink’s on the table, Mother.”
The ice-cold margarita seemed to mellow Delilah. She downed it with unabashed gusto, then sipped a second more leisurely. Conversation ranged from Julie’s impressions of her visit to the plant yesterday to some of the Dalton twins’ more colorful escapades as boys. Yet Julie remained on full alert during a dinner of chilled cucumber salad, potatoes baked in the hot coals, and steaks grilled to perfection.
Grace joined them for dinner. The nanny kept a close eye on the baby but had little to do except enjoy her meal while Molly gleefully transferred from Alex to Blake to Delilah’s lap, and back again. The infant might have lost her mother, but she certainly wouldn’t lack for love.
A familiar pang snuck in under Julie’s guard. Resolutely, she quashed it. She’d been in high school when she lost her parents. She’d had their love and guidance and support for more than half her life. She refused to feel sorry for herself or wish, even for an instant, that she could insert herself into this cozy family scene.
Nor would she blow what happened between her and Alex last night all out of proportion. They were both active, healthy and in their prime. Proximity and opportunity had reignited the sizzle that had sparked between them their first meeting all those months ago. In a few days they’d go their separate ways again. No harm, no foul.
Not much harm, anyway. As she watched the play of the light from the slowly setting sun on Alex’s dark gold hair, Julie chewed her lower lip. She was falling for the man. She knew it. The question now was how far she’d let herself drop before…
“…plans for the weekend?”
Delilah’s cool voice sliced into her thoughts.
“Sorry,” Julie murmured. “I missed that. What did you say?”
“I asked whether you had plans for the weekend.”
Her glance caught Alex’s. The gleam in his eyes telegraphed an unmistakable message, but Julie didn’t figure Delilah would appreciate hearing that she’d formulated no plans other than rolling around in bed with the woman’s son. Repeatedly. All day Saturday and most of Sunday. Instead, she reverted to the agenda she’d mapped out for herself when she’d decided to make this little jaunt to the city.
“I want to do some shopping. And I saw that Jersey Boys opens at the Civic Center this weekend. I haven’t seen it and…”
“Perfect,” Alex interjected. “Mother’s hosting a big fund-raiser for her favorite charity prior to Friday’s opening night performance. She’s been trying to strong-arm Blake and me into escort duty. We can make it a foursome.”
Delilah exercised too much self-control to let her annoyance show, but it was there in her cool reply. “The fund-raiser is a black-tie affair, Alex. Julie may not wish to get all gussied up.”
Wish to, or afford to? Julie knew which way those scales tipped. She’d pretty much depleted her bank account to buy into Agro-Air. She’d planned to hit the summer sales and do some serious bargain-hunting. But the idea of playing dress-up and moving among Alex’s circle of well-heeled friends grabbed on and wouldn’t shake loose.
“That sounds like fun,” she informed Delilah with a saccharine-sweet smile. “I’d love to join you.”
Eight
Julie regretted her nasty impulse to one-up Delilah almost as soon as she’d given in to it. She wasn’t into rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. Her milieu tended more toward the gritty and grease-stained. She waited to admit the error of her ways until after dessert, however, when the matriarch waved Grace back into her chair and insisted on taking Molly up for a bath herself.
Alex excused himself to take a call and Blake disappeared inside the house for a few moments, leaving Julie alone with the nanny. The sounds of summer wrapped around the two women. Cicadas buzzed in the bushes. A dove cooed to her mate in slowly gathering dusk. Down by the pool, fireflies flickered on and off, mirroring Julie’s rapid on-again, off-again thoughts concerning the Friday evening bash.
“I may have jumped into this fund-raiser soiree a little too quickly,” she confessed to Grace ruefully. “I don’t have anything to wear to a fancy function like that.”
“The age-old predicament of all females,” the blonde commiserated with a sympathetic grin.
“And very accurate in this case. I don’t really get many occasions to glam up in my line of work.”
“But you said you wanted to do some shopping.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of some new tops, shorts and work boots. I don’t
even know where to look for designer shoes and gowns.”
“I accompanied Delilah to a couple high-end boutiques last week. She wanted to show off her grandbaby to her personal shoppers. I could jot down the names of the stores for you.” She paused a moment before adding a kicker. “They’ll poke a monster hole in your pocketbook, though.”
“It’s already got too many holes.”
“There’s another alternative.” Grace hesitated again. “I helped Delilah bundle up some of her things a couple of days ago. She’s sending them to a secondhand shop operated by one of her favorite charities. From what I gathered, she regularly harasses, harangues or otherwise browbeats her friends and acquaintances into keeping the place stocked.”
“Surprise, surprise,” Julie drawled.
Grace laughed and lifted her hair off her neck to let some air circulate. “As I’ve learned in my two short weeks with my employer, harassing and haranguing constitute Delilah’s primary method of operation. I have no complaints, though. She’s been darned good to me, and Molly’s a joy.”
Julie found no fault with the second half of that statement. The first had her lifting her brows in polite disbelief.
“It’s true,” Grace insisted. “Her bark is a whole lot worse than her bite. Most of the time.”
“If you say so.”
“Back to this stuff we bundled up. It was gorgeous, Julie. A Chanel suit and Viktor Russo handbag, among other things. Not your style, maybe, but I bet the shop has some things that are.”
“I’m not sure I want to show up at a fancy dress ball wearing a gown one of Delilah’s acquaintances discarded.”
“Oh. Right.” Grace chewed on that dire possibility for a while before offering another suggestion. “I’m pretty good with a needle. If you did find something you liked, we could alter and accessorize so that not even the original designer would recognize his creation.”
The generous offer moved Julie. She’d enjoyed a wide circle of girlfriends during her younger years, but most had dropped off the radar after her parents’ death and Julie’s subsequent necessity of holding two or three jobs while working her way through college. Even the few she’d held onto had slipped away during the years she’d spent flying down in South and Central America. So the obvious sincerity behind Grace’s suggestion warmed a corner of her heart.
“Thanks,” she said with real gratitude. “I appreciate the offer, but you wouldn’t have time to do alterations.”
“Sure I would.” A dimple appeared in the nanny’s right cheek. “As you may have noticed, Delilah tends to preempt many of my duties. And tomorrow’s my day off. I’d enjoy hitting the shops with you. Unless you and Alex have other plans,” she tacked on as he reappeared.
“I don’t know.” Julie turned the question over to him. “Do we? Have plans for tomorrow?”
“We did,” he answered with a small grimace as he slipped his cell phone into its case. “I wanted to take you to the airfield so you could scope out DI’s air ops center. Looks like I have make a quick trip to Tulsa instead. One of our major customers has a problem that requires my attention. Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. I didn’t expect you to spend every day with me.”
Or every night, although she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t have to alter the agenda she’d formulated for later this evening. First priority was to get Alex alone. Second, to get him naked. Then… Well, three, four and five would take care of themselves.
Which begged the question—what came after five? Or six? Or seven? She didn’t bother to kid herself any longer. Sometime in the past few days what she felt for Alex Dalton had slipped past attraction and plain old-fashioned lust. She was now flying dangerously close to unfamiliar territory, with no charts or instruments to guide her. She was wondering just where they would land when Blake emerged from the house.
“I heard Mom over the baby monitor,” he announced with a grin. “She was informing Molly that good little girls probably shouldn’t poop in their bathwater.”
“Uh-oh.” Grace pushed out of her chair. “I better get up there. So Julie, are we good for tomorrow?”
“I am if you are.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at ten. We can have lunch out.” She waved to the men. “’Night, Alex. See you, Blake.”
Blake’s gaze followed the nanny as she retreated into the house before turning back to Julie. “You and Grace have something planned for tomorrow?”
“We’re going to hit the shops.”
“Good. I’m glad she’s getting out for a while. Mother’s kept her jumping for the past two weeks. What’s on your schedule, Alex?”
“I’ve got to go to Tulsa.”
The brothers shared a look.
“No problem,” Blake said in his easy way. “I’ll spend the day here with Molly and Mom.”
“But…” Guilt and confusion tagged Julie. “Grace said it was her day off.”
“It is. And mother’s more than competent to take care of Molly. What’s more, she’ll have Louis and the other staff close at hand. Alex and I just like to provide a little, uh, backup.”
“Make that a little ‘parental oversight’,” Alex clarified as he and Julie drove through the star-studded night. “And not necessarily of Molly.”
“Good grief! What do you imagine your mother could do with a six-month old in tow?”
“Whatever she decides needs doing,” he returned with some feeling. “She had Blake and me crawling through pipe sections and swinging from oil rigs before we could walk. Hauling us out to the fields with her was a necessity back then. Times have changed, although you’d have a hard time convincing our mother of that.”
Julie didn’t comment but she suspected whichever of the Dalton men proved to be Molly’s father would have their hands full riding herd on a small daughter and a supercharged mother. She pitied the poor woman who landed in the middle of that triangle. Any Dalton bride would have to fight tooth and nail to keep from getting mowed down in the scuffle.
Which brought her back full circle to the question of where this…this thing…between Alex and her could go. If, in fact, it went anywhere. A wave of sudden doubt hit her when she keyed open the door to the guest suite and he paused on the threshold.
“I’ve been thinking about us, Julie.”
So there was an “us.” The plural gave her a small thrill, although Alex looked way too serious for her peace of mind. Especially considering the agenda she’d privately mapped out for the rest of the evening.
“I’ve been pushing you since the day I showed up unannounced at Agro-Air,” he said slowly.
“True, although I would probably use a stronger verb than ‘push’ to describe blackmail and the sneaky ploy of turning my stated weakness for pizza against me.”
“So I’ll back off,” he continued, “if you want me to.”
“Let me think about that for a moment.” Crossing her arms, she gave the issue the serious consideration it deserved. “One, I didn’t have to agree to the deal you offered me and my partners. Two, I didn’t have to make this jaunt to the city. Three, I certainly didn’t have to grab you by the ears and drag you to bed last night.”
“That’s not quite how I remember it,” he said as a grin slipped out, “but go on.”
Okay, she needed to be honest here. Not a real problem, since she’d never learned to do coy. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to voice the emotions she hadn’t quite sorted through yet. The best she could do was a stripped-down version of the truth.
“Four, I seem to have a lamentable case of the hots for you, Dalton. So all things considered, I’d say no. I don’t want you to back off.”
That was all Alex had been waiting for. He’d been aching for this woman all evening. Listening to her spar with his mother… Seeing the moonlight glint on the dark red of her hair… Remembering how she’d moaned and arched under him last night… He’d damned near doubled over with wanting her.
His conscience had jabbed right through the wan
ting, though. More than one competitor had accused him of steamroller tactics. And it was true. He tended to go all out when he desired something. Or in this case, someone. Except desire didn’t begin to describe the hunger he felt for Julie Bartlett. As a consequence, he’d spent most of the ride home telling himself to throttle back and let whatever this was between them develop gradually, naturally. Thank God she’d seen his brief spurt of nobility for the BS it was!
His conscience now conveniently out of the way, he covered the mouth she tipped up to his. Hunger ripped into him, swift and fierce. This time, though, he was determined to take things slow. He wanted to explore every inch of Julie’s long, lithe body. Savor the strength in the sleek muscles she’d developed from jenking a two-ton aircraft into hard turns.
That was the plan, anyway. Right up until they stumbled into the guest suite, still locked together and feeding ravenously off each other. Her hands attacked his shirt buttons. His tugged at the hem of her blouse. The moment Alex found smooth skin and warm woman, he jettisoned the last of his good intentions and backed her to the wide leather sofa.
She tumbled onto the cushions. He followed her down. Breathless and awkward with their bodies tangled at odd angles, she laughed up at him with those mesmerizing eyes. He could lose himself in them. In her. Might already have done just that. The realization hit while Alex could still form a semi-coherent thought, just nanoseconds before his blood rushed south, his mind shut down, and he channeled all his energy to the task of baring Julie to his hands and tongue and teeth.
He woke at his usual 6 a.m. the next morning. Julie lay sprawled beside him in glorious abandon, the top sheet tangled and twisted around her naked form. Smiling, Alex tucked his hands behind his head and let his gaze roam lazily over her curves and hollows.
The Paternity Proposition Page 9