The Paternity Proposition(16)

A wrought-iron pergola interwoven in honeysuckle vines provided relief from the early evening sun. Their rich, sweet scent perfumed air cooled by a refreshing mist released at intervals from hidden nozzles. As Julie drank in the scene, her hostess emerged from inside the house. She had to admit Delilah looked almost human in a loose cotton blouse and well-worn jeans that emphasized her trim figure. She'd done her hair back in a fat braid that swished almost girlishly as she crossed the patio to greet them.                       
       
           



       

"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."