The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels

by Girard, Dara

  "It's strange, he's usually on time," Jackie said.

  Adriana toyed with one of her gold hoop earrings. "Perhaps he changed his mind."

  "He didn't change his mind," Cassie said.

  "He wouldn't dare," Sya added with emphasis. "He gets to see women in their underwear. What man would miss that?"

  Adriana frowned. "That's not all this fashion show is about."

  "That's all he'll care about."

  "Eric isn't like that."

  "No," Jackie agreed. She glanced at her watch. "But it is strange."

  Adriana felt tears of disappointment building, but set her jaw firm. She wouldn't cry. It didn't matter. It just showed how different they were. How could she have expected him to come? She didn't need him to be there anyway. She didn't care. Hell, her family had yet to attend one of these events and only her mother had ever visited her shop.

  "He will be here," Cassie repeated, trying to assure her.

  She shrugged as the lights dimmed. She glanced around the room and sighed. Damn it, it did matter and she did care. He knew how important this was to her. He should have been there with her, his dark eyes surveying the crowd, his jaw like steel as he watched the women parade in front of him.

  She couldn't focus when the show started. The models were a blur, the announcer's voice a buzz in her ear. Suddenly, she heard Cassie gasp. She turned and saw Sya and Jackie with their mouths open.

  "What's wrong with you?" she asked. "Did someone's brassier slip?"

  "No," Cassie said, breathless. "Look on the stage."

  Adriana glanced at the stage at the line of male models strutting their wares. All delicious. "Yes, the men do look yummy." Perhaps she could meet one.

  Cassie shook her. "Adriana, you're not looking."

  She measured one of the men—a blond with a prominent bulge. "Yes, I am. Trust me."

  Cassie grabbed her chin and directed her face. "The one in the red boxers and robe. Your design."

  He was breathtaking. Withdrawn but sexy. "I'm sure I've seen him at other fashion shows. God, what a presence he's like—oh my God!" She leapt to her feet. "What is he doing up there?"

  Cassie pulled her back down. "At least he came."

  "Why isn't he wearing his glasses?" She stood again.

  This time Jackie pulled her down. "I'm sure he won't fall off the stage."

  "He's recovering from pneumonia."

  "That was months ago," Cassie said.

  She wasn't sure she breathed through the entire event. Every time he came out she saw no one else. As if everything fell away and became out of focus. At last it was over. The four women sat in stunned silence.

  "Well," Jackie said.

  "Well," Cassie replied.

  "I'm sorry, Adriana," Sya said. "But I think your boyfriend is going to end up in my dreams tonight."

  Adriana couldn't reply, still too shocked. Her pounding heart seemed to block out all sound.

  "I had no idea he looked like that," Cassie said. She began to grin. "But it explains a lot."

  "I love him," Adriana said, her voice barely a whisper.

  "I'm glad you figured that out."

  Sya said, "I'd love him too. Imagine a man walking half naked onstage for you. How romantic."

  It wasn't what he had done. It was the fact that he had come. He had been there for her.

  "At least we know what he'll be wearing on the honeymoon," Jackie teased.

  "Quiet," Cassie ordered. "Here he comes."

  The women watched him make his way to them with a placid, commanding presence, ignoring the eyes that followed him.

  Sya frowned. "It's like he's a different man."

  "I know he's the same one," Adriana said.

  "Try to act normal," Cassie instructed.

  Eric stopped in front of them. "Hello, ladies."

  They all stood. "Hello." They glanced at each other. Sya said, "I've got to speak to Rita" and left. Cassie and Jackie also thought up excuses and soon did the same.

  "Looks like tonight was a success," he said.

  Adriana nodded. "Yes." She didn't know what to say to him, or how to look at him. Her feelings were so new and powerful, she was afraid he would see them in her eyes and run from them.

  "I hope you raised enough money."

  She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. "I'm sure we did."

  Jackie walked past, whistling at him. "Hey, baby. Do you—"

  Cassie grabbed her arm and dragged her away. "We'll see you later."

  They left the ballroom and walked down the hall in silence. Adriana kept her eyes on the ornate pattern of the carpet.

  Eric sighed. "You have every right to be angry with me."

  Adriana looked up at him, shocked. "But I'm—"

  He held up his hand. "Just hear me out. I was the only guy around when she picked me to fill in. I know I looked ridiculous up there. I never felt like such an idiot, but I wanted to make sure all your clothes were shown. I knew it was important to you. So I—"

  She held his head and kissed him. "Now shut up before I start to cry."

  He raised a brow. "I looked that bad?"

  She wrapped her arm around his. "You looked irresistible. I'm going to ask the photographers for copies."

  He colored a bit. "It was the clothes."

  "It was you." She stopped walking, the need to tell him how she felt rising in her throat. "Eric, I—"

  "Here." He handed her an envelope.

  "But, Eric—"

  "Open it first."

  She did. Inside was a business plan and a check for twenty thousand dollars. She looked up at him, stunned.

  "It's just a start," he said. "A few ideas to help your business venture. I don't know much about the field, but I think you're a great investment."

  She loved him and he thought of her as an investment? She smiled at him as her heart gently cracked.

  * * *

  "He gave you twenty thousand dollars?" Cassie asked as they sat in the Golden Diner.

  Adriana stared at a woman, sitting at another table. She was young, but her breasts threatened to touch her knees. "I wonder if she would be offended if I told her where to get a good bra," Adriana muttered.

  "Pay attention."

  "I am. I have this terrible urge to go up to her and say, 'Sit up, sweetie, it helps the girls defy gravity.'" Cassie kicked her; Adriana turned. "What?"

  "We're not talking about breasts right now. We're talking about Eric and his twenty-thousand-dollar check."

  "Do you know most women don't wear the right bra?"

  Cassie glared at her.

  "I don't want to talk about Eric."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it hurts. He thinks of me as an investment. Doesn't that have a cold ring to it?"

  "It's his way of showing that he cares."

  Adriana stared at the envelope. "But what does it mean?"

  "I just told you."

  "I know, but this is serious. Does this mean we've reached another level? I'm not sure I can accept this. What if things don't work out? Will I have to pay him back?"

  "No, this is business. He really believes in you."

  "Or perhaps his libido is talking."

  "We're talking about Eric and money."

  "True." She put the envelope in her bag.

  "Why don't you tell him how you feel?"

  "Because it won't change anything. I knew I was falling in love with him and he knew it too."

  "So what? Now it's for real."

  "Doesn't matter. There's no reason to tell him, because a part of me will want to hear him say the words too and that's not fair."

  "Give yourself time to think and if you feel uneasy about the check, wait awhile before you deposit it."

  * * *

  "Has she deposited the check yet?" Drake asked as he and Eric walked to Drake's second restaurant, the Red Hut. The February wind was fierce and they both held their collars up against the cold.

  "No," Eric said
, his words coming out as a puff of air.

  "Perhaps she's a procrastinator."

  "Or maybe she just doesn't want to." The prospect made his insides feel as cold as the weather. He knew her. She was impulsive. She would have deposited the check by now.

  "It's only been a week. She could be nervous. Women act in strange ways. Take her to dinner and drop some hints. From there you'll find out how she feels."

  Eric shrugged.

  Drake pushed open the doors to the restaurant, then stopped. "Bring her here with Nina. I'll reserve one of the special tables and have a dinner set up for you. With the mood set you could talk things through."

  Eric shrugged again.

  Drake patted him on the back. "It will work."

  * * *

  It didn't work. Eric stared at Adriana across the flicker of candlelight, her orange cashmere sweater a bright contrast to the subdued maroon walls of the restaurant. She was quiet. That wasn't like her. Already his grasp on her had robbed her of her vibrancy, her passion—the very thing he loved about her.

  It was time to set her free. He wasn't the one to care for her. He could never please her the way she deserved to be. He glanced around the restaurant imagining it through her eyes. The serene atmosphere, a well-dressed couple displaying the pretense of elegance and refinement in the corner, waiters full of deference with ready smiles. She was a high-energy woman.

  Adriana stared at her glass. She wished she knew what to say. Eric looked expectant. As though he wanted her to say something. No doubt he wanted to discuss his business plan, but she couldn't. She hadn't been able to look at it, because it turned her heart cold. She didn't know where the relationship could go from here. She didn't want to do or say anything that would betray her feelings and send him running.

  Yet he must know. He had been able to read her before and stayed. She took a deep breath. After tonight she wouldn't be so awkward. Her feelings for him would melt into something natural, becoming a part of her and not feeling like a foreign entity invading her heart. She stole a glance at him. He looked so handsome—his features strong, distinguished. But his eyes still bothered her. Would the ice never melt?

  "Are you okay?" he asked her.

  "I'm fine."

  "It's a lovely place," Nina said.

  He smiled at her. Even she could feel the tense energy hovering above the table like a rain cloud.

  "You don't like it here," he said bluntly.

  "No," Adriana quickly denied. "It's not that. It's just when you said you had a surprise—"

  "You expected something more than the Red Hut?" he guessed.

  "It's a wonderful restaurant," she said, trying to soften her criticism.

  After a few moments he asked, "What did you think of the business plan?"

  "You worked hard. Thank you. It will give me plenty to consider."

  "I don't know much about fashion, but—"

  "I appreciate the effort."

  The conversation fell flat from there, becoming strained and painful. Soon the meal was over.

  At her apartment, Eric accepted her offer of a drink. He sat on the couch, wondering the best way to phrase things. The best way to let her go.

  She handed him a glass. "It's pineapple soda."

  "Thank you." He took a sip, then tapped the side of the glass. "I think we should start seeing other people."

  His words fell on her like an anvil. She took a step back. "What are you talking about?"

  "Us."

  Adriana gripped the couch. "I know you're talking about us. What do you mean?"

  "We should see other people."

  She stared at him, but his face was unreadable. "Do I get an explanation for this revelation or are you just going to leave?"

  Eric's intense eyes swept her face. "You knew as well as I did that we wouldn't last."

  She turned away. "That's not an explanation. What have I done?"

  His voice was gentle. "You didn't do anything but be yourself."

  She spun around, her eyes burning. "You're speaking in code. Have you forgotten I'm not as smart as you?"

  His voice became as hard as his eyes. "Don't pull that crap with me. You know damn well that I'd never be able to make you happy."

  "What are you talking about?"

  Eric opened his mouth, then shook his head.

  Adriana pounded the couch with her fist. "Tell me!"

  "At the restaurant I finally realized that I would never be able to afford you."

  "I don't need you to afford me. I'm not some high-ticket item at an auction."

  "I'm not saying you are."

  "I admit to being a little disappointed at the restaurant. I expected a big surprise. Did you get a family discount?"

  His jaw tensed. "Yes."

  "What do you have against splurging every once in a while? About being impulsive and free?"

  He pushed up his glasses in a quick angry gesture. "Impulsive behavior can lead to ruin."

  "No, it leads to unexpected joys."

  "And tragedies. If my parents had just planned their journey to America they might still be alive and we wouldn't have had to suffer their folly."

  "Yes, but you survived it and look at you now. Where is your passion? Where is your romance? You have money, but guard it like a miser. Afraid it will disappear. You do everything with a goal in mind. You've never given me anything of sentimental value—a locket or a rose. It would have been a nice change if you had given me chocolates or champagne at the fashion show, but no, my solemn suitor writes up a business plan and becomes my investor."

  His eyes pierced the distance between them. "Did you deposit the check?"

  "No."

  "Too much of a commitment?"

  "Yes." Since money was all he cared about, he could have it back. She grabbed the check, crumpled it up, and stuffed it in his shirt pocket. "There, now you're free to leave."

  Raw hurt flashed in his eyes; a layer of ice quickly covered it. He took the check out of his pocket and smoothed it out. "The money—"

  "I know what the money represents and I don't want it. I don't need a lecture to explain it. Go and find someone you can afford. Someone who won't mind feeling that you can conveniently squeeze her into your budget. Someone-—"

  "You've made your point," he said quietly. "Good-bye." The door closed with a soft click.

  * * *

  She didn't sleep that night. Not that she expected to. It was over, finished. Just when she'd discovered she loved him, he wanted to see other people. Fine. Let him. It was good that he was gone. She could meet someone else too. She would miss him, but habits were usually missed until they were replaced by something else. Now she was free to find someone like her. Someone who didn't look for the best bargains, someone who could be impulsive and frivolous. Someone unpredictable.

  After work, she sat at her drafting table and glanced up at the drawing and poem Eric had given her, posted on the wall. Suddenly the gravity of what she had done hit her. She had accused him of giving her nothing of value when he'd given her the priceless things, the intangibles: Hope, strength, courage, friendship.

  He had come to her fashion show, cared about her daughter, supported her dreams, and she had been blinded by convention. Their argument hadn't been about money. She hadn't made him feel worthy. She had ignored his business ideals to tout the advantages of a romantic ideal. Of course he would want to find someone else. She would have to convince him not to.

  * * *

  Eric stared at the doodles of numbers in front of him and scowled. This definitely was not like him. He knew better than to get too close. He tore up the paper and stared down at the fresh sheet below. He would start again. Learn from his mistake. He had let a woman shatter his life once, he wouldn't do it again. He glanced up when someone knocked on his door.

  "Come in," he said.

  Adriana entered. "Eric—"

  He leapt to his feet and grabbed his coat. "What's wrong? Is Nina hurt? Is your store in trouble?"
>
  "No," she said quickly. "Everything is fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

  He fell into his seat. "I wish you wouldn't look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Never mind," he said, irritated with himself. "Sit down." He folded his arms, and his voice was neutral. "So how can I help you?"

  "I owe you an apology. I—"

  Eric shook his head. "No, you don't." He looked down at the sheet of paper in front of him; he had started doodling again. He scrunched up the paper. "Things were said in anger, but most of it was true."

  "You've given me things of immense value. Things that are priceless." She leaned forward, desperate to convince him. "I was wrong and I want you to forgive me. I want us to work."

  He glanced away, unable to look at her. His desire threatened to overcome sense. He couldn't go back. "I left you out of hurt pride. I had everything planned, the table, the food, the setting." He turned to her and managed a smile. "I forgot that my hummingbird deserves to fly."

  "But, Eric, I want you."

  He pounded the table with his fist in sudden impatience, surprising them both. "I can't be what you want." He took a deep breath and sat back. He lowered his voice, fighting the need to say what was in his heart. That he loved her, that she would haunt him for the rest of his life. "I would give my right eye to be the man you deserve. A man who thinks of roses instead of rosemary, who will take you out for no reason, who will shower you with jewelry and presents." His gaze fell. "Unfortunately, I know myself too well to pretend to be one of those. I will lecture, I will worry, I will plan, and I can't be any other way."

  "But I don't want you to. I like you just the way you are. I want to keep seeing you."

  He barely heard her. Catherine's rejection of his proposal rang in his ears. If only he'd been Drake. If only he had more passion, more heart, more romance. "I'm not going anywhere."

  "I want to be with you. I love you."

  He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

  "What else could it mean?"

  Does it mean that you pity me? That you see my heart bleeding and want to fix it? He opened his top drawer just to give himself something else to do. "Do you want to marry me?"