The Paternity Proposition(21)

       
           



       

"In case I forget to tell you later, I had a nice time tonight."

"I won't let you forget." His eyes gleamed with hot promise. "And just so you know, 'later' ranks at the top of my agenda for tonight."

Hers, too, although she didn't get a chance to say so before his glance made another slow sweep.

"Sure you want to go mingle with rich and not-so-famous?"

"Are you kidding? After I went to all this trouble to …  How did your mother put it? Get all gussied up?"

"Okay, but when the small talk has you wanting to scream with boredom, don't say I didn't warn you."

Laughing, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. "I won't."





Ten

Given Alex's prediction of jaw-cracking boredom, Julie didn't really expect to enjoy Delilah's big bash. She'd never learned the art of small talk. Never practiced pasting on a polite smile to cover acute disinterest. Aside from Alex and Blake and their mother, she wouldn't know a soul at the fund-raiser.

Satisfaction over Alex's reaction to her spiffed-up persona and the sledgehammer effect of his tuxedoed persona on her senses had her so buoyed, however, that she almost floated into the limo he had waiting at the curb.

"I thought you said the party's only a few blocks from here," she commented as she wiggled her hip-hugging skirt into place.

"It is, but a princess should arrive in style. Besides, I doubt you could navigate the city streets in those shoes."

"They're not my usual style," she admitted, stretching out a leg to admire the lethal heels. "Might prove useful if I have to fight off a mugger, though. I could put out his eye with one thrust."

Thankfully, no muggers intercepted them when they exited the limo and entered the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. Alex cupped a hand under Julie's elbow to escort her inside, where they were greeted by the museum's three-story glass masterpiece by Dale Chihuly. According to Alex, the brilliantly colored tower comprised more than two thousand twisting, turning pieces.

"They had to ship them from the artist's studio in sections."

She craned her neck to take in the sculpture's complexity and enormity. "How in the world did they ever put it together again?"

"Very carefully," Alex deadpanned.

Delilah had reserved the museum's rooftop terrace for her fund-raiser. The party was already in full swing when Alex and Julie stepped out of the elevator. Women glittering with jewels and men in hand-tailored tuxes sipped champagne and chattered against the backdrop of Oklahoma City's skyline lit to brilliance by the early evening sun. A forest of gently whirling fans and cool misters tamed the July heat, thank goodness, while an army of servers drifted through the crowd with trays of canapés and crystal champagne flutes.

A linen-draped table strategically placed close to the elevator displayed the "donations" Delilah had strong-armed for the silent auction. Julie almost choked when she spotted the starting bids for some of the items. Fifteen grand for two weeks at a private villa in the south of France? Twenty for a photographic safari in Kenya, led by one of National Geographic's foremost wildlife photographers? Neither of which included airfare, she noted, although the CEO of a major international airline had donated a pair of first-class tickets to any destination in the world for the bargain basement price of eighteen thou. But it was the gold pendant nested on black velvet that riveted her attention.

"Look! It's Viracocha, the Incan sun god."

"I'll have to take your word for that," Alex said with a smile.

"The Inca believe Viracocha rose from Lake Titicaca in the time of darkness to create the sun, the moon and the stars."

The pendant was at least three inches high and had to be crafted of solid gold. It depicted an incredibly elaborate god who wore the sun for a crown, clutched thunderbolts in his hands, and wept tears representing the life-giving rain that fed crops at high, dry altitudes.

"I saw a piece just like this in Chile," Julie exclaimed, mesmerized by the magnificent piece. "This is an amazing replica."

Or so she thought until she noted the starting bid.

"Whoa! This can't be a reproduction. Not at this price. What'd your mother do, Alex? Commission someone to heist the original from the Santiago Museum?"

A not-quite-amused voice drifted from behind them.

"I've been accused of a lot of things in my time. Not without some justification, I'll admit. I don't count robbing museums of priceless works of art among my many sins, however."

Julie sucked air. A low, hissing lungful. But when she looked to Alex for help, the wicked amusement on his face didn't offer an out. Resigned to her fate, she turned to face her nemesis.

A single glance told her Delilah had pulled out all the stops tonight. Diamonds dripped from her ears, her throat, her wrists and sparkled on at least three of her fingers. Her jet black hair was swept up in style a that added inches to her already impressive presence. Her still slender body was encased in an off-the-shoulder gown of shimmering jet that probably cost more than the Viracocha pendant.                       
       
           



       

"Sorry," Julie said. "I didn't mean to accuse you of stealing."

"Oh?" The older woman arched an aristocratic brow. "Sure sounded like it to me."

Julie deflected the barb the only way she could. "You throw one heck of a party, Delilah. This is a truly a magical setting. And you look fantastic," she added with genuine sincerity.

Delilah proved no more immune to flattery than any other woman. Her expression softening, she preened a bit before returning the compliment with only a hint of reluctance.

"So do you. Where did you get that dress?"

Cued by that auspicious opening, Julie segued into her assigned task. "At Helen Jasper's boutique. She stocks really gorgeous stuff. You should check out her shop."

"I will," Delilah promised as she linked her arm through that of her son's guest. "Let me introduce you to some of the other people here."





Much to Julie's surprise, she thoroughly enjoyed herself for the next hour. She'd figured she wouldn't have anyone to converse with except Alex and his brother and had worried about holding her own in the rarified atmosphere of mega-millionaires. Contrary to her expectations, she found plenty to talk about with a good number of men whose roots still went deep into Oklahoma's red dirt.

The women not so much. Most of the females she was introduced to didn't profess the slightest interest in crop yields or the futures market, although she suspected those markets funded their rubies and emeralds. Their conversations tended more toward kids, schools and charity work. And clothes, which gave Julie plenty of opportunity to slip in the promised references to Helen Jasper's shop.

Naturally, the Daltons' recent acquisition of a new family member formed a topic of avid interest. Most of the women couched their questions in polite terms, asking how little Molly was adjusting or whether she'd started to crawl yet. One or two dropped more pointed comments obviously designed to confirm the baby's parentage.

Alex answered the questions he chose to and dodged the others with practiced ease. Julie couldn't dodge the speculative looks, though. More than one set of assessing, mascara'ed eyes turned her way.

One pair was particularly penetrating. Thick black lashes framed the startlingly bright turquoise eyes. Had to be tinted contacts, Julie decided, as the owner sauntered in their direction.

"Hello, Alex."

The voice was low and sultry. The body that produced it had been poured into a strapless aqua sleeve.

"Hello, Barbara. Have you met Julie Bartlett?"

"Not yet."

"Julie, this is Barbara Hale. She's an attorney with Power, Davis and Cox."

The hand the attorney extended was tipped with blood-red nails, but its grip was strong and brisk.

"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.