“I understand you’re a pilot, Ms. Bartlett. Or may I call you Julie?”
She phrased the request pleasantly enough but her voice seemed to have an underlying edge to it that Julie couldn’t quite interpret.
“Julie’s fine,” she replied, “and yes, I am a pilot.”
“I’m guessing that’s how you and Alex must have met. He spends almost as much time in the air as he does in his office.” Her liquid gaze shifted, smiled, caressed. “Don’t you, darling?”
“Not quite.”
The attorney slewed her aqua eyes back to Julie. All right. Point made and understood. She and Alex had enjoyed something more than a business relationship.
Maybe still did.
The thought punched through the evening’s rosy glow. Why, Julie wasn’t sure. Alex had made no bones about playing the field. He’d stated up front that she was the last candidate on his list of potential Molly-moms.
She couldn’t help wondering where Barbara Hale had placed on the list. Near the top, she’d bet. The attorney was smart, sophisticated, obviously part of the same circles Alex and his family moved in. She’d probably never gotten a single drop of grease under those blood-red talons.
Was she hoping to take up where they’d left off before Molly entered Alex’s orbit? If so, she had to be less than thrilled with Julie’s appearance—or reappearance—in Alex’s life.
Hale confirmed as much just a few hours later.
With the bids closed and the silent action over, Delilah announced they’d raised almost a hundred thousand dollars to benefit the summer camp she supported for children with terminal illnesses. The guests then downed the last of their champagne and moved from the museum’s rooftop terrace to the Civic Center less than a block away.
Julie had attended a handful of performances at the Civic Center as a youngster. Then, as now, its gray granite facade and ornate ironwork evoked its Art Deco past. The facility had been built in the 1930s with a partial grant from President Roosevelt’s Public Works Administration, and reopened in 2001 after a massive, three-year renovation. The complex now served as a prime venue for touring companies of Broadway hits like Jersey Boys.
They took their seats just moments before the curtain went up. The Daltons, of course had a private, first-tier box that gave an up-close view of the stage and orchestra pit. No fold-down auditorium seats for them. These armchairs were wide and plush and could be positioned for maximum enjoyment. Delilah and Blake spent the few moments before the lights dimmed chatting with friends in the next box, while Alex popped the cork on the bottle of champagne that sat waiting in a silver ice bucket.
Cristal, Julie noted, eyeing the label. She wasn’t a wine connoisseur by any means but knew this particular brand of bubbly could run upward of five hundred dollars a pop. The realization she was sipping something that cost as much or more than her gown generated a prickly sensation.
She’d started out feeling like Cinderella, but all the money being thrown around tonight brought home just how far out of her league these people were. Until the lights dimmed, that is, and Alex stretched his arm across the back of her chair.
The smooth satin of his sleeve pressed against her bare shoulders. She leaned into its warmth, felt the muscle beneath the cloth. Relaxing, she gave herself up to the music of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.
The rags-to-riches story of four blue-collar toughs who climbed their way from the back streets of Newark, New Jersey, to glittering stardom enthralled her and the rest of the audience. So much so that Julie’s hands hurt from applauding long and loud after each of the songs in the first act. When she mentioned the sting to Alex when they stretched their legs during the intermission, he lifted first one palm, then the other, for a kiss.
“All better?”
“Much,” she murmured, all too conscious of Delilah’s narrow-eyed stare.
It wasn’t Alex’s mother who approached when he made a trip to the men’s room, however, but Barbara Hale. The attorney wore a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’m sorry we didn’t get to chat longer at the fund-raiser,” she commented in her throaty drawl.
Suuuuure, she was.
“Have you and Alex known each other long?” the lawyer asked with a lift of one delicately penciled brow.
There were two ways Julie could go here. Return a vague answer or go with the truth. She opted for the one she suspected would get the most rise.
“We met last year.”
“I see.”
Julie just bet she did. She could almost see Hale counting backward.
“So you’re in the baby stakes, too,” the lawyer said, the gloves off now. “The front-runner, judging by the interchange I just witnessed between you and Alex.”
“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“Oh, but I beg to differ. Alex and I had quite a thing going before this mess with Molly hit.”
“Mess?”
Hale realized her slip and made a swift mid-course correction. “Certainly it’s a mess. Just the legalities involved in obtaining legal parental custody could tie the Daltons up in court for months, if not years. Unless,” she added after a deliberate pause, “they induce the mother to relinquish all legal rights.”
“Induce being another term for bribe, buy or flat out extort?” Julie drawled.
She realized too late she’d left herself open to a swift jab. Hale wasted no time landing it.
“We both know there are all kinds of inducements in addition to money. Being wined and dined and made love to by someone who’s very, very good at it, for example. A combination of all the above would be almost impossible to resist, wouldn’t it?”
Julie’d had enough. Shrugging, she turned the barb back on the slinger. “For you, maybe.”
Hale blinked at the blunt reply but before she could get off another shot the lights dimmed.
“Intermission’s over. See you around, counselor.”
With a cool nod, Julie walked away. Some of her irritation must have seeped through, though, as Alex looked a question at her when she joined him at the ramp to their box.
“I saw you talking to Barbara.”
“She talked, I mostly listened.”
“Hmmm.” He cocked a brow. “I’m getting a sense there’s a problem.”
“If there is, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”
She spent the second act trying to convince herself of that. Unfortunately, Hale’s nasty insinuations held more than a grain of truth.
While Frankie and the boys belted out “Big Girls Don’t Cry”, Julie mulled over the fact that Alex had offered monetary inducement in the form of an extremely lucrative business deal. And he had wined and dined and made very, very skillful love to her. None of which would make the least difference in a parental custody suit, however, since Julie had no claim, parental or otherwise, on Molly.
Unless…
Good grief! Was she coming at this from the wrong end? Had the Daltons given up on finding Molly’s real mother and decided to go with a substitute?
The wild thought sent Julie’s emotions ping-ponging all over the damned auditorium. So many came at her from different directions she had trouble distinguishing righteous indignation from flat-out dismissal to the niggling little voice that whispered so what if she was a stand-in?
In one fell swoop she would gain a husband and daughter. A brother-in-law, which was good. A mother-in-law, not so good. A whole passel of folks besides Dusty and Chuck to care and worry and fuss over. Folks who would fuss over her for a change. The sticking point was Alex, of course. Would she marry him just to acquire a ready-made family?
The absurdity of that hit her at the same time Frankie’s falsetto baritone slid up almost three octaves to hit the opening notes of “Sherry”.
She and Alex weren’t anywhere close to thinking exclusive, let alone permanent. Were they?
Delilah appeared to have the same question on her mind when she cornered Julie after the performanc
e. They were standing on the steps of Civic Center, waiting while Alex and Blake summoned their separate vehicles. Night had blanketed the city in soft heat and bright lights. Ignoring the summer nightscape, Delilah pinned Julie with one of her penetrating stares.
“What are you doing tomorrow morning?”
“I haven’t firmed up my plans.”
“It’s Saturday. Alex and Blake have a standing eight o’clock tee time at the Country Club whenever one or both of them are in town.”
“Alex hasn’t mentioned golf.”
Or anything else at this point.
“Do you play?” Delilah wanted to know.
Like she had time to whack little white balls for three or four hours on Saturday mornings? She spent most of her weekends working on the Pawnee or mixing chemicals for the following week’s runs.
“No, I don’t.”
“Good. You can spend the morning with Molly and me.”
“I, uh…”
Delilah rode roughshod over her half-formed objection.
“We’ll go to the zoo. We need to go early, though, before it gets too hot.”
“Why don’t I check with Alex and…”
“Alex is why I want some face time with you. Him and Molly.”
Ooooh, boy! Julie couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do than spend the morning at the ape house being grilled by Delilah.
“We’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”
“I’ll get you out of it,” Alex promised when she informed him of the command performance.
They were in the limo, following a stream of red taillights through the city streets. Julie surprised herself as much as him by shaking her head.
“No, I need to go. It’s time someone set your mother straight.”
“Good luck with that,” Alex said, laughing.
“I’m serious! We can’t let her go on thinking there’s a chance that I’m, ah…” She threw a glance at the driver and ended with an indistinct, “You know.”
“When you know Delilah better, you’ll discover she’s going to think what she wants to. Period. End of story.”
“C’mon, Alex! You’re almost as bad as Blake when you talk about your mother. She can’t be that intransigent.”
“Want to bet?”
She might have argued the point further if he hadn’t entwined his fingers in hers and lifted her hand to brush a kiss across her knuckles.
“Go one-on-one with the tigress tomorrow if you want. I’ve got something else in mind for you tonight.”
Thrills shooting up her spine, Julie banished all thoughts of the mother and gave the son her full, undivided attention.
Eleven
A storm rumbled through during the night. As a result Saturday morning dawned bright and relatively cool. Still, Julie slathered on sunscreen and poked her hair through the back opening of a ball cap to get it off her neck. Loose and comfortable in cargo shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt, she pushed through the glass door to the Dalton International building just as Delilah pulled up in a gleaming, cherry red Cadillac SUV.
Delilah popped the door lock and Julie slid into the passenger seat, blinking a little at the driver’s accoutrements. Delilah wore crops, a sleeveless linen overblouse, wide bangle bracelets and sandals—all in eye-popping lemon accented with a profusion of daisies. Even the bright yellow diaper bag propped against the center console sported a field of flowers.
“Morning,” Julie got out, blinking a little at the sartorial splendor.
Delilah returned a noncommittal grunt and took a swig from the travel mug she plucked from its holder.
Refusing to let the less than enthusiastic reply daunt her, Julie twisted to smile at the baby strapped into a rear seat carrier. Daisies adorned Molly, too, from her little floppy brimmed hat to her cloth sandals, one of which she’d kicked off so she could play with her foot.
“Hello, Mol.”
The baby was busy with her toes but paused long enough to gurgle. Or maybe that was a burp. Hard to tell, but the gummy smile that accompanied the sound tugged at Julie’s heart as she faced front and snapped her seat belt in place.
“So Grace isn’t joining us?”
She made the observation casually, more as an ice breaker than anything else. Unfortunately, Delilah took instant exception to it.
“I’m fully capable of tending my granddaughter for a few hours without assistance.”
Julie thought back to how Alex and Blake had conspired not to leave Delilah alone with Molly on Grace’s day off, but decided discretion was the better part of valor. She couldn’t quite keep the tartness out of her reply, though.
“Ooh-kay.”
Delilah shot her a quick look. “You tryin’ to be smart with me, girl?”
“I wouldn’t say I’m trying.”
The response elicited a huff of something that could have been smothered laughter. Flicking a glance at the rear and side view mirrors, Delilah pulled away from the curb.
“I’m not spoiling for a fight,” she informed Julie.
“Good to know.” She paused while Delilah negotiated a double row of orange barrels. “What are you spoiling for, exactly?”
“I told you last night. I want to talk to you about Alex. But let’s wait ’til we get to the zoo and I’m not having to run an obstacle course.”
Once clear of the downtown construction, it took only fifteen minutes to reach the sprawling hundred-acre Oklahoma City Zoo and Botanical Garden complex. Julie had visited the state’s number one tourist attraction a number of times, either with her parents or on school field trips. This was the first time she’d made an entrance with one of the zoo’s most generous benefactors, however.
The bronze “Donor Honor Roll” plaque mounted just inside the entrance attested to Dalton International’s financial contributions. The effusive welcome Delilah received from both staff and volunteers suggested her interest was personal as well as financial—an impression Delilah confirmed when she steered Molly’s stroller to the palatial new elephant habitat.
“Look at this,” she exulted. “Nine and a half acres and the best facilities anywhere in the country!”
Their elevated viewing spot overlooked a sweeping vista of jungle, grassland and watering holes. In the hole directly below them, a shaggy pachyderm trumpeted ecstatically, snarfed up a trunkful of water, and threw spray over his back at the caretaker scrubbing his—her?—hindquarters with a long-handled brush.
“Did you help build all this?” Julie asked, as goggle-eyed as Molly at their proximity to the giant Asian grey.
“I’m on the fund-raising committee. We’re at thirteen million and counting,” she added with smug satisfaction.
Julie might not like the woman very much but had to admire her active involvement in her community. And, she conceded reluctantly when Delilah steered them to a tree-shaded bench, her mother’s right to meddle in her sons’ affairs.
Popping the seatbelt on the stroller, Delilah lifted out a squirming Molly. “Here, hold her while I fish out a bottle.”
The baby fit perfectly in the crook of Julie’s arm. Her still pale blue eyes peered up from under the brim of her daisy hat solemnly until Delilah produced a bottle from a cool pack inside the diaper bag. Fists waving, Molly demanded instant gratification.
Delilah passed Julie the bottle and waited until she had Molly sucking greedily before launching her attack.
“You and Alex sleeping together?”
Julie whipped her gaze from the baby’s pursed, rosebud mouth and locked on Delilah.
“Yes.”
“I thought so.”
Her scowl suggested she wasn’t particularly thrilled to have her suspicions confirmed.
“He’s got more than just a bad case of the hots for you, you know.”
Startled, Julie looked from her to the baby and back again. “No, I don’t know. We, uh, haven’t gotten around to dissecting our feelings for each other.”
“Dissect ’em now. You just scratching an
itch with Alex, or is it more serious?”
Well, she couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell the woman to butt the hell out when Delilah preempted her.
“Don’t get all hot and bothered with me, Julie. I love my son. I don’t want anyone stomping on his heart.”
“We’re not to the stomping point, Delilah.”
“You sure about that? I saw him getting kissy-eyed with you at the Civic Center last night. He never made that kind of public display with any of the women I’ve pushed at him these past couple of years.”
“Probably because you pushed them at him.”
“Probably,” Delilah conceded grudgingly. “It’s just…”
She paused while Julie hitched Molly a little higher in her arm.
“It’s just I’m not getting any younger. I want to see Alex settled down. Alex and Blake both. With the right women.”
The pointed addendum had Julie bristling again.
“I’m not sure how you define ‘right’, but I’ll tell you this. Whatever’s between Alex and me has nothing to do with you. Or with Molly.”
She glanced down at the child in her arms, and her heart gave a little lurch.
“Sorry, kiddo,” she said softly. “I’m not your momma.”
When she lifted her gaze and repeated that emphatically, Delilah flapped a wrist loaded with plastic yellow bangles.
“Oh, hell, I know that. I sent the water glass you used at brunch that first morning for DNA analysis. Shelled out big bucks to get the results the next day.”
Julie’s jaw dropped. Snapped shut. She had to wait until she could trust herself to utter something other than four-letter words to reply, however.
“You didn’t have to shell out any bucks. I gave Alex a DNA sample the second night I was here. It’s not my fault he chose not to tell you.”
“Doesn’t matter.” The bangles flapped again. “A mother does whatever she considers necessary to protect her offspring. Which brings us back to you and Alex.”
“Delilah…”
Ignoring the irritated growl, the older woman gestured to Molly. “She needs burping.”
The Paternity Proposition Page 12