The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

  She took a step back, shame turning her skin a new shade. "I could have sworn I saw him sitting here a few moments ago."

  "You did," Adriana said. "But he left."

  "I am so sorry," she stammered. "But from behind you look just like Brandon."

  Eric tossed his napkin on the counter. "I wish I could take that as a compliment."

  She dabbed at his wet shirt. "Please forgive me, but I was furious when I found lipstick on his striped Chap shirt—the one I bought for him on his birthday while we were dating. It was also the same one he wore on our second anniversary. I couldn't contain myself. I—" She suddenly balled up the wet napkin, then leaned across the counter to squint at a man with his arm around a woman. She looked poised for flight, rage heightening her color again. "Wait a minute," she said in a low voice. "I think I see the bastard now." She raced around the bar and created the same beer-tossing scene. This time hitting her intended target.

  Adriana turned to Eric. "Sorry about that."

  "Why?" He cleaned his glasses. "Did you make her do that?"

  "No. But you've lost your tie and now you have beer running down your cheek."

  He wiped his cheek. "I thought I got it all."

  She grabbed a napkin and wiped the side of his face. "Let me order you another drink."

  "I'm all right."

  Without the shield of his glasses his eyes seemed somehow magnified in their dark remoteness—she wondered what a woman would have to do to bring warmth to such an expression. She turned away. At least he was handling the situation calmly. Keith would have been furious to be so humiliated, but what else had she expected? Eric handled the club like he would any situation—practical and controlled. He probably would have done better to stay at his office or go home. It was obvious he didn't fit in here. She saw Tanya and Randan dancing intimately and Nanj hitting a guy with a string using the same skill of a dominatrix with a whip.

  Adriana said, "I think I see your tie."

  Eric shoved his glasses back on and watched Nanj wrap his tie around a man's wrist. "I'm glad to know it's in safe hands."

  For the first time she felt a little embarrassed by her friends' behavior, though nothing in Eric's tone hinted of him judging them. She turned from the dance floor and stared at the array of glasses and liquor behind the bar. "Thanks for being nice to my friends."

  "You sound surprised."

  "I wasn't sure you would be."

  He kept his gaze on the dance floor. "Why wouldn't I be nice to them?"

  She ran her finger around the rim of the glass. "They're not exactly intellectual."

  "I gathered that from the discussion on who's the father of Olive Oil's son, Sweet Pea, and whether or not Bugs Bunny is a cross-dresser. I still say it was merely for survival."

  "You're not half bad when you're not annoying."

  "I'm getting older, I must be mellowing."

  "Too bad." She gave a world-weary sigh.

  "Why?"

  "This Christmas you won't be visited by three spirits."

  He snapped his fingers in regret. "Damn, and I was looking forward to visitors this year."

  They both fell quiet.

  Adriana spun in her chair and studied his profile. She shouldn't have dragged him here. He was a casualty of her impulsiveness. "I didn't mean for you to have a bad time."

  "You worry too much." Eric took her hand with a boldness that surprised her, yet his grip felt strangely natural—almost familiar. "Let me show you what a poor dancer I am."

  She allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor, her head telling her this was a bad idea, her heart cheering her on. Dancing with Eric would probably be an awkward experience, but at least he was trying. He could have stayed in the corner somewhere and cast his sardonic gaze over the crowd.

  She was right. Dancing with Eric did turn out to be an experience, but it was anything but awkward. She expected him to be a stiff, gawky dancer. But the moment he pulled her into his arms, she felt as if she had been tricked into the arms of a charmer. One who knew he was underestimated and used that knowledge to his best abilities. He had the artless grace of a con man.

  The music wasn't even conducive to the slow way they were moving, yet it worked. Their bodies swayed in rhythm to the electric beat. He wasn't an excellent dancer with lithe, graceful moves. He had bold, slow, powerful movements—unsettling and much too mesmerizing for a mathematical nerd.

  "Why the frown?" Eric asked, his breath warm against her forehead. It was a surprise she could hear him in the crush of bodies and loud music, but she suddenly felt as if she could distinguish his voice anywhere.

  "You smell like beer," she said, unable to share the truth.

  "I knew I should have worn a different cologne."

  She wrinkled her nose in teasing displeasure. "Yes." The truth was he smelled good—beer, sweat, and male. The type of guy that usually had her hopping on the back of his motorcycle or into his truck ready for a night of mischief. She glanced up at him, reminding herself that he was no bad boy. He was conservative, practical, and dull. Although he felt anything but dull right now. He felt good. He felt exciting and hummed with an inner energy she wished to unleash. She bit her lip, but she wouldn't be the one to do it. That was Lynda's job. The woman he planned to marry and settle down with.

  Eric gave her a gentle squeeze. "Stop frowning. I realize I'm not the greatest dancer, but you're beginning to make me feel self-conscious."

  "Oh, it's not you, I was just... thinking about the plan."

  He nodded. "Interesting. I was just thinking about piercing my nose."

  She stared at him; he grinned. A wicked grin that forced her heart to beat faster.

  "See? I can lie too. Don't worry, you don't have to explain the frown as long as I know it's not my fault."

  But it was his fault. Everything she was feeling was his fault. And it was all wrong. It was the night's fault and the Rusty Nail she'd consumed earlier. It was him telling her about his proposal and how he had been born dead and was saved. In one horrible, unbelievable night Eric had changed. He'd become interesting, intriguing, exciting, and totally off-limits.

  "Is Lynda a good dancer?" she asked, trying to keep his near fiancée on the forefront of her mind.

  "Good enough for me. Is Keith?"

  "Keith's not my boyfriend."

  "That wasn't my question."

  "Yes. He's wonderful." That was partially true. He was wonderful to watch. However, slow-dancing with him was unpleasant because he was too busy showing off to pay attention to her.

  An errant elbow jabbed into her ribs, replacing her thoughts with pain. The perpetrator threw a casual "I'm sorry" over her shoulder. Adriana softly swore, glaring at the back of the woman's head.

  "Are you okay?" Eric asked, rubbing the side of her ribs. His large hands were indecently warm against her, seeping through her cotton shirt, creating a soothing motion that was distracting.

  "It's nothing." She laughed, hoping he would stop. Fortunately, he did and she could feel her pulse returning to its normal rhythm.

  She had to relax. It was just one night. Why not enjoy herself? Tomorrow she would look at him and see ordinary Eric again. Ordinary, engaged Eric. She smiled. Her smile faltered when her eyes fell on a passionate couple in one of the darkened corners. She felt like shouting, "Get a room." Suddenly, her throat tightened as a horrible realization emerged. She recognized the female half of the pair: Lynda. Dressed in a skintight black leather skirt and a red cashmere blouse so small it could be used as a napkin.

  Adriana's eyes jerked to the man who, as she expected, was Eric's complete opposite. The type of bad boy she would have dated in her wilder days—coarse and dramatic. As large as a linebacker and just as fierce. A cross tattoo decorated his arm, the rest of him was possessively wrapped around his companion.

  "What's wrong?" Eric asked, when she stopped dancing.

  She returned her gaze to his face and tried to keep her tone light. "Nothing. I just don't feel l
ike dancing anymore. I really need to sit down."

  Something in her face must have confirmed this. He immediately secured a seat for her at the bar. He requested a glass of water.

  She rubbed her palms against her skirt. "Does—"

  "Drink first," he ordered. "Questions later."

  In no mood to argue with him, she finished the water, then held her head in her hands. This was awful. Should she tell him what she'd seen? Perhaps she had made a mistake. She hoped she had. What could she say? Guess what, Eric? I saw your girlfriend making out with another man. Happy friggin' birthday?

  Instead she asked, "Does Lynda have sisters?" A twin perhaps?

  If he found the question strange, he didn't show it. "No." His intense eyes searched her face. "Are you feeling better?"

  No, she felt sick. She managed a shaky smile. "A little, thanks."

  "It's probably all the heat, noise, and lights. Let me take you home."

  Great idea. She would get him out of here. Her smile became more genuine. It froze on her face when she saw Lynda and her companion sit down behind Eric. Could the night get any worse? He'd lost his tie, had beer tossed in his face, and now the woman he was going to ask to marry him was sitting on another man's lap. Adriana thought of the diamond ring in Eric's pocket. It was like him—traditional, honest, and true. As dull as he was, people like him were rare and special. She couldn't let his birthday be shattered by the fickleness of her sex. She had to do something.

  She grabbed his arm before he could turn. "Wait."

  He looked concerned. "What?"

  "Umm..."

  "Don't worry, I can drive."

  She seized his arm again, hoping he couldn't feel the blood rushing through her veins. Praying that her voice wouldn't belie her panic. "It's not that. I—"

  A rich feminine voice floated toward them. "Oh, Bruce, I have never had so much fun. I don't know what I'll do without you."

  Eric's brows furrowed as he tried to place the voice. He began to look behind him.

  "Don't," Adriana said.

  He stared at her, waiting. "Don't what?"

  She searched her thoughts for something to say, but could only think of two words. "Happy birthday." She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She realized her mistake once their lips touched. She had expected his lips to be cold and hard like his eyes, but the warm, sweet taste of his mouth melted her defenses. She forgot about why she had started the kiss and let herself indulge in this pleasing development. She felt no fear, no censure. Though his body remained ridged, his mouth was supple.

  She drank in the essence of him with feminine enjoyment, softly moaning as she curved into him, inviting more exploration. She had expected him to be an easy, practiced kisser. However, his mouth showed a mastery based on instinctive male possession.

  He abruptly pulled away. She took a step back. They stared at each other and softly swore.

  She covered her mouth as if she'd been caught enjoying a forbidden dessert.

  He swore again. "You didn't expect that, did you?" he asked. His voice had deepened to a level that seemed to vibrate within her.

  She could only shake her head. She dared not speak. If she moved, he might notice that she was trembling.

  He held his forehead, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I got carried away. Perhaps I have had too much to drink..." His words trailed off as his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

  Chapter 3

  Lynda and Bruce stood near the far wall under a flashing neon sign. Eric looked at Adriana, then back at them, a rueful smile briefly touching his mouth. His gaze fell to the counter and he nodded as if finally solving a puzzle. He glanced up and watched the pair. "Happy birthday to me," he murmured.

  Adriana stared at him, trying to witness any amount of distress in his cool brown eyes. She wanted to see his jaw tense, his fist clench, to capture some sign that displayed even a small amount of anger. He only looked pensive. "Well?" she demanded.

  He returned his gaze to her. "Well what?"

  "Aren't you angry?" She pounded the counter. "Aren't you going to do something?"

  "Like what?"

  "Go up to her and tell her that you're finished. That she's not worthy of you. That she can have her plaything and get out of your life."

  Eric studied the couple, his face unreadable, his eyes dispassionate. The pair had returned to their previous activity—necking.

  Adriana impatiently tapped her foot against the rung on the stool. "What are you thinking?" She was ready to see action, but all he did was stand there.

  "I'm thinking you're very sweet."

  She opened her mouth, then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

  His voice was soft, his eyes sharp. "You knew she was here and tried to redirect my attention."

  "Well, I—"

  He placed a finger against her lips. "If I hadn't been drinking, I would have figured it out sooner." He let his hand fall. "I'm not exactly your type. That should have been my first sign." He grinned, a little sheepish. "Thanks."

  She wanted to tell him that only the first part of the kiss had been meant as a diversion, but the next had been pure animal lust. All she said was, "You're welcome."

  He tapped his fingers against the inside pocket that held the ring. He wasn't looking anywhere in particular, his mind lost in thought.

  Adriana sighed. "You're not still going to ask her to marry you, are you?"

  "You can't expect people to be completely faithful nowadays," he said absently.

  "Of course you can. Cassie and Drake are faithful to each other."

  "They're a rarity."

  "I can't believe you're excusing her."

  He rubbed his chin. "I'm trying to be practical."

  "This is one of those rare moments when even men like you are allowed to be impractical. Even irrational. How about what you feel?" She tapped her chest. "You must feel something. If I saw my man with another woman, I'd probably do worse than toss a drink in his face."

  He adjusted his glasses. "What would you do?"

  "Throw a chair, break a favorite statue, tear up pictures."

  "You think that would solve the problem?"

  "It would make me feel better."

  He nodded thoughtfully. "The fact is, I'm here with you."

  "But we're not doing that." She jerked her finger at the pair.

  "We were close."

  Her mouth fell open. "I can't believe you're defending her."

  "I'm not. I'm trying to see this from all angles."

  They watched Lynda dip her hands in Bruce's jeans. Adriana tilted her head. "I think there's just one."

  Eric slanted her a cool glance.

  "Do you want Nanj to do anything to her?"

  He blinked, then looked at her and smiled. An evil smile she wouldn't have expected from him. One that had her nerves trembling. "No, thanks." He handed her some bills. "Get yourself something else. I'll be right back."

  She glanced at Lynda; then her eyes focused on Bruce. He was a lot bulkier than Eric and might not welcome his interruption. She grabbed his arm. "Perhaps this isn't a good idea."

  "What's not?"

  "You approaching her."

  He looked annoyed. "You thought it was a good idea a few moments ago."

  "I changed my mind."

  "Why?"

  "Tomorrow you could tell her what you saw tonight."

  His voice deepened. "Why did you change your mind?"

  She licked her lips. She knew a man's pride was an important yet fragile thing. She had to be gentle. "Now don't take this the wrong way."

  He waited.

  "Her companion doesn't look too bright."

  Eric folded his arms. "What does that have to do with anything?"

  "It's been my experience that those types tend to use their brawn more than their brains."

  He still looked blank.

  She glanced upward. "Eric, the guy's got muscles the size of your head."

  His eyes grew dark and dista
nt. "You think he'll hurt me?"

  She'd made him angry, but she didn't care if it would save him a couple of broken ribs. Cassie would kill her if he ended up in intensive care. "He's a lot stronger than you. You spend your day behind a desk, that's no match to a man who probably does manual labor. It's just not safe."

  He let his arms fall. "I should be insulted, but the fact that you care is touching."

  "You can tease me all you like. Actually you can do it on the way home."

  "Adriana—"

  "I don't want you to confront them."

  "I've listened to your suggestion and weighed the risks. Thank you. Stay here."

  "But he'll hurt you. I don't even have your insurance number."

  His voice was soft; she had reached his limit. "As I've said, I hear you but I've weighed the options and think it's worth the risk. Let's consider this a closed deal."

  She did, but she watched him with such worried eyes that he softened.

  "I used to get picked on in high school. It stopped in my senior year." His tone implied a painful and just end to his tormentors. Adriana felt a little relieved. Who was she to fuss over him like a mother hen? Why did she care if he got a few bruises? He was a grown man and must have had a few encounters before.

  "I'll be right back." He offered her a quick smile—the rose a knight would give before charging into battle. He slid off the stool and made his way to the unsuspecting couple like a stalking panther.

  Adriana saw the shock on Lynda's face when she recognized Eric. She knew she would have had the same expression if she'd met Eric in a place like this. Lynda began to gesticulate wildly, probably offering an explanation. Her companion only listened, studying Eric in a manner of disgust, confident in his power to defend and win his woman. He made the thought known to Lynda, who shook her head and continued explaining. Eric listened, then took out the velvet box and opened it. Lynda promptly burst into tears. He snapped the box closed and said a few words. Bruce shoved him against the wall. Adriana didn't realize she had left her seat until she was halfway across the room and could hear Bruce's voice.

  "You'd better apologize."

  "I rarely say things I need to apologize for," Eric said.

  The man lifted his fist and aimed it at Eric's head. Everyone was certain it would make contact until Eric moved at the last minute. The man's fist hit the cement wall. A sickening crack followed as fingers broke. Bruce cradled his hand and fell to the floor in agony.