The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

"You don't like her," Eric said from behind.

  She didn't move. If she stepped back she would touch him and her traitorous body would probably enjoy it. "I'm happy she's marrying you."

  "Ouch. That means you really don't like her." She turned and looked at him, her face earnest. "No, don't misunderstand me. I mean she's perfect for you. She'll make you happy. You deserve to be happy. Everyone does and when you're lucky enough to find the right match you should snatch them up right away and not worry about what other people think or say." Oh God, she was babbling! "She seems like a nice woman, educated, attractive, almost perfect." Why wouldn't he move back? "You'll be happy. Very happy." Somehow she wanted that. He was obnoxious at times, but basically good, and deserved to be happy in the way she had never been able to make Laurence.

  "I'm not looking for perfect, just suitable."

  "Do you think she loves you? It is possible," she snapped at his disbelief. True, it was hard to imagine anyone falling in love with Eric. Although his brother and sister cared for him and Cassie adored him, Eric seemed like a hard man to love. She changed the subject, not wanting to hear the answer. "So does Drake know about your plans?"

  Eric sat behind his desk, his mind still on the possibility that Lynda could love him. He would hate that kind of burden. Drake, his older brother, loved his wife. It was his marriage to Cassie and the birth of his niece that prompted him to seriously start thinking of having a family of his own. He had vaguely thought about it but the urgency rose when he had held Ericka in his arms.

  He wanted someone with a similar temperament and a background far better than his own. Lynda fit those requirements. He had known her only six months but was sure they could build a promising future. He didn't expect to experience the great love his brother had for Cassie—he wasn't the type. He would settle for contented. That was a reasonable goal. Lynda was stable, sensible, and would fall into his life with ease.

  "No," he said. "You're the only one who knows."

  Adriana sat on the edge of the desk. "I'm flattered."

  He knew she wasn't mocking him and offered her a brief smile. "Now let's get back to your concerns about the budget."

  She waved the topic away with an impatient gesture. "Forget about the budget. What do you plan to do before midnight? It's your birthday. You must celebrate."

  "It's no big deal."

  "You're one hundred and ten, of course it's a big deal." She swung her foot for a moment, then leaped off the desk. "I've got an idea. A few friends and I are seeing a play, then going for drinks afterward. Why don't you join us?"

  "What's the title of the play?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "I want to know if it's something I've read about. Reviews can be a helpful gauge for how good or bad the show is."

  "It's all a matter of opinion. Besides, this is a small play that hasn't received much notice yet. It's called The Ink Spot."

  He adjusted his glasses. "Is that what we'll be staring at all evening?"

  "Eric, it's your birthday." She leaned toward him. "I can't have you sitting around until midnight strikes. Think of me as your fairy godmother."

  He reached out and touched one of her earrings, his knuckles brushing against her cheek. "Are these your magic wands?"

  "Yes," she managed, surprised by the gesture. "Your life will soon change and you have to celebrate."

  "We don't even know if she'll say yes."

  "She'll say yes."

  "How do you know?"

  "I'm optimistic."

  He rested his chin in his hand and stared out at the October sky. The wind had settled. Distant buildings lit the coming darkness.

  She came behind the desk and grabbed his hands. "You're coming with me. I can't leave you on a cold autumn day with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company." She handed him a tissue. He frowned at it. "What's this for?"

  "You still have lipstick on your cheek." He let her drag him to the door. He sensed his life would change tonight, but not in the way he expected.

  Chapter 2

  "It was brilliant!" Tanya Leonard exclaimed, fanning her hand through the air. Eric ducked to avoid decapitation. The gold bracelets on her pale wrist clinked, as her brown eyes reflected her enthusiasm. "Did you ever see something so expertly executed?" The arm flew through the air again. Eric covered his beer before the loose sleeve of her peasant blouse dipped in it. "The lighting, the stage, the set."

  He lifted his drink and frowned. What set? He only remembered seeing a chair and a large black rug—the ink spot presumably.

  He was an unsuspecting traveler lost in the hummingbird's forest. Her friends hummed and buzzed like a various assortment of birds. Adriana somehow stood out from the dramatic crowd. She complemented them in dress, but in manner appeared much more subdued. Though even a hyperactive child would look sedate against this colorful group. Oddly enough, he liked seeing her there. He liked watching her in her domain. She truly enjoyed life and it was a rare person who did so. He had stared at her face through most of the play, watching an exhausting amount of emotions cross it: joy, despair, awe.

  "The best part of course was Emily." The intimate group turned and applauded the small redhead dressed completely in black, sitting in the corner with a large pina colada. The star of the performance.

  She blushed prettily, her freckles becoming more prominent. "You guys are biased. Your love for me clouds your view. We need a real opinion from an outsider." Her hazel eyes focused on Eric. "What did you think of the play?"

  Eric stopped with his drink to his lips. An icy sense of dread descended.

  "He doesn't know much about theater," he heard Adriana say.

  "That doesn't mean he doesn't have an opinion. So give us your review."

  He placed his drink on the table. "I was amazed by the sheer desolation the ink spot represented."

  "Desolation?" Nanj said, toying with the leather choker around her neck, its metal spikes similar to a dog collar. Her dark eye shadow contrasted with the light gray of her eyes; her spiky black hair made her olive skin look chalky. She looked as fierce as a Doberman. "The ink spot represents the inevitability of death."

  "But he does have a point," Emily allowed, her wide gaze still focused on him. "He comes from a different angle we haven't noticed before."

  "Marvelous insight," muttered Hinton, an older man with shaggy white hair. A tie-dyed T-shirt covered his broad frame and three gold hoop earrings glinted in one ear.

  "Hmm," Randan said, unconvinced, his attractive brown face fixed in a permanent scowl that promised a menace he sometimes delivered. He had his arm draped behind Tanya.

  "And what did you think of my quill pen?" Emily asked.

  Eric took another swallow. Hell, that's what she was? He glanced at Adriana, then said, "I haven't seen an inanimate object played so well since the brooms in Fantasia."

  Emily smiled; Adriana pinched him.

  Hinton rested two large forearms on the table, a small tattoo of a heart peeked from under his sleeve. He pinned Eric with a skeptical green glare. "So how do you keep Uncle Sam rich?"

  "He means what do you do for a living," Adriana said.

  "I figured that." He met Hinton's gaze. "I'm a financial adviser."

  Hinton grunted. "Hmm, a numbers man." He measured him in one quick assessment. "Yes, you look it."

  Tanya shivered. "I hate numbers. I don't know a mutual fund from a CD. All that stuff is foreign to me."

  "I say live now," piped Adriana. "Why save for a day that may never come?"

  "Why not save for a day that may?" Eric countered.

  Adriana softly groaned, sensing one of his lectures.

  Eric ignored her. "Everyone should take control of their finances. You work hard for your money, why shouldn't you own it? Hinton, I notice you have a Harley outside. Would you calmly let anyone take it from you?"

  He narrowed his eyes. "No."

  Eric turned to Tanya. "I notice your purse is handmade. Would you give it away?"

/>   She held the strap tighter as if he had just threatened to take it. "No, it means a lot to me."

  He sat back and addressed the group. "Well, money should be treated in the same manner. It's something valuable. Society tries to trick you by giving you plastic—instant gratification with delayed consequences. Society says owning things is the ladder to achieving status, but that's the poor man's way of thinking." He pulled out his wallet and held out a ten-dollar bill. "This is not just a piece of paper. It's a ticket to dreams. You should gather some of these and invest them. Put your money somewhere and watch it gain interest."

  Adriana turned to the group expecting to see them near catatonic, but their eyes were open, interested, and completely fixed on Eric.

  "But understanding money is so confusing," Emily said. "I'm not smart enough to figure it all out."

  Eric put his wallet away, his tone encouraging. "If I can understand it, so can you."

  Hinton let a deep belly laugh escape him. "You're comparing yourself to us? Young man, I never even graduated from high school. How many degrees you got?"

  Eric shrugged. "We all have the same capacity to learn. I'm not smart." The group stared at him in disbelief; he continued undaunted. "I just learned how the system worked in a way that made sense to me. Tanya, you said you didn't understand CDs."

  She nodded.

  He took out a pen and grabbed a napkin. "Let me explain them to you."

  And he did. Soon the table discussion was more suited to an economics class than a club. They discussed the economics of population growth and the risks of 401 Ks, Social Security, and retirement. Adriana watched amazed as Hinton argued his ideas, Tanya offered suggestions, and Nanj riddled Eric with questions—some laughable. However, he never laughed. Adriana waited for him to lean back in his chair, lift one of his sardonic brows, and use his condescending tone. He never did.

  If she hadn't known him, she would have thought he was a different man. Yet he was still Eric, a man who had an uncanny knack to be interested in dull subjects. She rested her chin in her hand and watched him. Never had she seen him so animated. It wasn't noticeable to those who didn't know him, since his gestures were conservative, but his dark eyes glittered and his granite jaw hovered near a smile.

  "So," Hinton said to Adriana once the discussion died down, "why didn't you mention this friend of yours to us?"

  Eric lifted his drink and slanted her a quick glance. "Adriana doesn't consider me a friend."

  "It's his birthday," she said.

  The group turned to him and burst into congratulations. Emily began to sing "Happy Birthday" and Nanj bought him another drink.

  "How young are you?" Tanya asked.

  "One hundred and ten."

  She gazed at him with teasing eyes. "You don't look a day over thirty-seven."

  He raised his glass. "Thank you."

  "He's going to propose to his girlfriend tonight," Adriana added. She instantly regretted the remark when he looked at her. It wasn't a look of censure or betrayal, just one of deep speculation. She didn't know why she had shared something that he hadn't even told his brother, but she felt restless, giddy, and was in the mood to celebrate.

  The shouts of congratulations began again.

  "Well, you're just full of surprises," Randan drawled.

  Hinton frowned. "You're too young for prison. Live together."

  "Don't listen to him, I think that's wonderful." Tanya stood and grabbed his hand. "Since you're soon to be shackled, why don't you enjoy this time and dance with me?"

  Eric glanced toward the dance floor. He watched the array of lights strike the floor and felt the hard drumbeat pound in his chest. Perhaps it was just panic. He wasn't sure. "I don't know how to dance to this."

  She grinned impishly. "I'll show you."

  Eric looked at Adriana with resignation as Tanya led him away. Nanj and Emily followed.

  Hinton grabbed Adriana's wrist before she could rise. "Oh, let them alone."

  She watched Eric disappear into the crowd. "But he can't dance."

  "Has that ever stopped Tanya before?"

  "He's going to get married."

  "She knows that." His eyes were assessing. "Why does it bother you?"

  She turned to him and lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug, feeling agitated. "It doesn't bother me. Why would you think that?"

  "By the way you look at him."

  "Don't confuse that with any amount of interest in him as a man. I'm just trying to figure him out."

  "Be careful, Adriana, curiosity can get you in trouble."

  As if she needed to be told. "Don't worry."

  Randan rested his other arm on the length of the seat and frowned toward the dance floor. "I don't know why you brought that old man here in the first place."

  "Shut up," Hinton said. "You're just jealous that he's dancing with Tanya."

  Adriana picked up her drink. "Besides, it's his birthday."

  Randan tugged on his ear, his scowl increasing. "So? Doesn't he have his own friends?"

  "I doubt it." She touched his sleeve, not wanting Eric to get on his bad side. He could make an unpleasant adversary. "Listen, Ran, he's not into the club scene and he can't dance. I bet you that Tanya brings him back in ten minutes."

  Ten minutes turned into a half hour. Adriana watched the dance floor and waited but the small group didn't return. She grabbed her bag and stood. "I'm going to the bar."

  Hinton sent her a knowing smile. "That's code for 'I'm going to look for him.'"

  She shook her head, making light of the teasing, not wanting to admit to herself or him how close to the truth he was. She could not find Eric on the dance floor. Between the booming music and strobe lights it was like trying to find a needle during an air raid. She rejected a man's offer to dance and went to the bar, a sense of irritation making her throat dry. It wasn't fair for Tanya to monopolize Eric when she had been the one to bring him.

  Not that she really missed him, she reminded herself as she ordered a Sprite. It was just that all this was a new experience for him and she wanted to be the one to guide him through it.

  "It's my lucky day," a smug male voice said next to her. "A beautiful woman all alone at the bar. Let me buy you a drink."

  "I'm fine, thank you."

  Her cold tone did not deter him. He slid onto the seat next to her. She was hit by a wave of musky cologne. "The name's Brandon." He adjusted the lapel of his tailored dress shirt in an effort to impress her. The only thing Adriana noticed was the faded band impression on his ring finger. "If you're not going to let me buy you a drink, at least let me dance with you. The music's too good to pass up."

  She drummed her nails against the glass. Even if he had not been married he wasn't her type. Tall, brown, and slick with enough oil to fill a bucket. "I'm really not in the mood." She hoped he'd get the hint and leave. She sighed when he called the bartender over and ordered a Sex on the Beach. He looked at her and winked. She groaned. She should have known better than to go to the bar alone.

  "So what's your name, sugar?"

  "Gloria."

  "Then Gloria hallelujah I met you tonight." He smiled, impressed by his own wit. "Destiny must be working overtime." He narrowed his eyes. "Have we met before?"

  "Yes."

  "I thought so."

  She sipped her drink, watching the condensation drops fall to the counter. "I believe I flushed you this morning."

  She glanced up. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down in rage. He opened his mouth to reply, but was unable to meet the challenge in her eyes. He took his drink and left.

  "Good aim," an amused male voice said behind her. "It's always successful to hit below the belt."

  Adriana turned to see Eric taking the seat Brandon had abandoned. At least he looked like Eric. She wasn't sure. The voice was right, as were the glasses, but the top three buttons of his shirt were undone and he had a calm, magnetic presence about him that was dangerously enticing in this high-energy atmosphere. She l
ooked at her drink and pushed it away. It was nonalcoholic, but one could never be too careful. Something was affecting her judgment.

  "What happened to your tie?" she asked him.

  He grabbed his shirt and glanced down where his tie should have been. He scowled. "I don't know." He turned to the dance floor. "I think some woman is currently using it as a lasso."

  "Are you having a great time?"

  He took the beer he had ordered and took a healthy swallow. "No, but I'm not having an awful time either," he quickly added to soothe the fleeting expression of dismay on her face.

  "Tanya kept you busy."

  "A simple warning would have helped."

  Adriana flashed a wicked grin. "I think experience is the best way to learn."

  Eric spun the light brown liquid and watched it swirl. "What was I supposed to learn?"

  "Always stick by your escort."

  His eyes met hers. "Were you feeling neglected?"

  An outraged scream interrupted her reply.

  "You low-down dirty bastard!" a female voice shouted behind him. She would have been pretty if her features hadn't been marred by a rage that flushed her honey skin and loosened the coifed hair that now fell about her face. "How could you do this to me? You said you were working late." She sent Adriana a venomous look. "Now I see what you are working on, you pathetic imbecile. All those nights I worried about you and here you are. I thought you loved me."

  Eric turned around. The woman grabbed his beer and threw it in his face. "You jerk, I hate you."

  Adriana jumped to her feet, outraged. "What is going on here?"

  The woman pointed an accusatory finger at Eric, who was calmly wiping his face with a napkin. "This man is my husband!"

  Adriana looked at Eric, then the woman. "That's impossible."

  "I don't know what he told you, but he belongs to me. So you can get to walking, sister."

  "I think you've made a mistake."

  She poked Adriana in the chest with one manicured nail. "Do you think I'm stupid?" She punctuated each word with a poke. "I know what my husband looks like." She glared at Eric; her mouth fell open. "Oh my God. You're not Brandon."

  His voice was quiet. "No."