The Paternity Proposition(7)

"I can handle Dusty."

But could he handle her?

The thought added another edge to his anticipation as she made for a pickup parked to the side of the hangar with that hip-swinging stride of hers.

The next week, he told himself during the drive back to the city, should prove interesting.





Julie covered the same route later that afternoon. She still couldn't believe she'd let Dusty whine and weasel and guilt her into this ridiculous situation. She'd fully intended to tell Alex Dalton straight out to look elsewhere for his baby's mother. Sign whatever release the man put in front of her. Spit into the nearest empty cup.

Yet here she was, cruising east on I-40 toward the cluster of skyscrapers that thrust up from the flat Oklahoma plains like a bundle of steel celery stalks. The only reasons she'd caved, finally, was because Dusty swore a solemn pledge to stay away from the casinos if she agreed to Dalton's deal. Plus, she would get a first-hand look at DI's operations, scope out their engineering and test facilities. Added to that was the fact that they were between growing seasons and Julie hadn't had a vacation in longer than she could remember.                       
       
           



       

She would hit the shops, she decided as fallow, straight-lined farm sections gave way to suburbs sprinkled with strip malls and fast-food stops. Visit a couple of Oklahoma City's world-class museums. Maybe catch the musical Jersey Boys at the Civic Center. And, oh by the way, spend a few hours with Alex Dalton and his family.

She'd looked them up on Google this afternoon. She'd skimmed through all sorts of articles and financial publications chronicling Dalton International's steady rise from a small family venture to a mega-corporation that manufactured and supplied equipment to oil-rich countries around the world. She'd also found a profusion of articles and photos from various society pages. There was the two-page color spread of Delilah Dalton's mansion, thrown open to the public for a garden charity event last spring. And a profusion of photos showing one or both of the Dalton twins with be-gowned and be-jeweled babes on their arms.

One Dalton in a tux had done serious damage to Julie's respiratory system. Two had almost killed it. The picture also made her realize how far outside the Dalton orbit she was. She could relate to the cocky pilot who'd offered to buy her a drink in a Mexican border town. Aside from flying, she and Dalton really had nothing in common. Except, of course, one night of steamy sex and a baby he thought she'd abandoned.

Scowling, Julie used MapQuest to guide her off I-40 and through the city streets. She'd visited the state capitol many times, most recently when she signed over her savings to become a partner in Agro-Air. Yet the seemingly incessant downtown construction made MapQuest necessary to avoid detours and dead ends.

The thriving hum of traffic and tourists was a testament to a city that owed its origins to the 1889 Land Run, when the government opened lands in Indian Territory that weren't assigned to a particular tribe for settlement. More than ten thousand hopeful homesteaders had camped on the plain in anticipation of the Run. The sea of tents they erected prior to the cannon booming out had burst into an instant city.

By the time Oklahoma Indian Territory became a state in 1907, the boomtown had supplanted Guthrie as the territorial capitol. It continued to boom with the discovery of oil. In the 1940s, the massive gear-up for wartime production at the Douglas Aircraft Plant just outside town brought another surge in both population and revenues. That surge took a serious hit during the post-Vietnam drawdown in the defense industry and oil bust of the 1970s. Oklahoma City hung in there, however, its spirit indomitable-as the 1995 bombing proved to the entire nation.

The agony of that horrific incident had emphasized the best in the Oklahomans character. They were resilient, independent, fiercely proud of their roots. Julie felt every one of those emotions as she wheeled through the streets to the high-rise that housed the corporate headquarters of Dalton International.

A barrier and uniformed guard stopped her at the entrance to the underground parking. If he wondered what business the driver of a beat-up Ford pickup covered from hood to tailgate with red dust had with Dalton's chief operating officer, he was too well-trained to show it. Smiling, he passed her an electronic key card.

"Mr. Dalton advised you'd be arriving this afternoon, Ms. Bartlett. He's reserved a parking space for you next to the elevator. Just insert the card in the elevator slot and it will take you right up to the penthouse."

The penthouse? Well, well. This enforced vacation may not be so bad after all. Feeling almost resigned to a week of shopping and lazing around, Julie maneuvered into the designated parking space and plucked her carryall from the passenger seat. A glass-enclosed elevator whisked her from the dim, subterranean garage into dazzling sunlight, then climbed an outside shaft some thirty stories. The ride gave Julie a breath-stealing view of Oklahoma City's parks and winding river.

Once off the elevator, she followed the directions on a discreet bronze plaque to a set of double doors and keyed in the code. She stopped dead just inside the threshold.

"Ho-ly crap!"

Directly ahead of her was a solid wall of glass. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a spectacular view from the oval ballpark to the bronze "Guardian" statue crowning the capitol's dome. She was still standing in stunned amazement, half in and half out of the suite, when she heard a door click shut further down the hall. A glimpse over her left shoulder kicked her pulse into sudden overdrive.

The guard downstairs must have notified Dalton of her arrival. He strolled toward her with an easy, confident stride.

"That was quick." She commented. "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I live here."

"Here?"

"Just down the hall. It's convenient for work and entertaining out-of-town guests."

"I'll bet!"

Her imagination took off, courtesy of all those articles depicting Alex Dalton and his brother with gorgeous females draped all over them. Julie would bet she wasn't the first "guest" to be housed so conveniently.

"If you think you'll just waltz through a set of connecting doors and pick up where we left off last year, you've got another think coming."                       
       
           



       

A smile creased his tanned cheeks, which only made her stiffen even more.

"Look, Dalton … "

"You've got the wrong Dalton."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm Blake, Alex's brother." He held out his hand. "And you, I take it, are Julie Bartlett."

"I, uh, yes."

The resemblance was astonishing. She was still trying to take it in when he took her hand in a strong, sure grip.

"Alex told me you'd agreed to his proposal." Keen blue eyes so like his twin's smiled down at her. "You're under no obligation to do this, you know."

"I got the impression from your brother that the Daltons were standing shoulder-to-shoulder on the issue of the baby's parentage."

"We are, but that doesn't mean we'll ride roughshod over you-or whoever Molly's mother turns out to be."

Julie almost believed him. Might have, if the elevator hadn't pinged at that moment and disgorged his twin. One Dalton packed a powerhouse punch. Two had her sucking air. Especially when Alex turned on an identical grin.

"I see you've met the runt of the litter."

"I have." She scrambled to recover. "He, er, mentioned that he lives on this floor."

"So do I."

A casual wave indicated another set of double doors to the right. Gulping, Julie realized she'd have a Dalton boxing her in on both sides.

"I made reservations for dinner at a restaurant here in town. Seven okay?"

It certainly was. She much preferred meeting his mother on neutral ground. Even the formidable female Dusty had described couldn't kick up too much of a ruckus in public.

"Seven's good."

"I'll pick you up here."

She nodded and let the door click shut behind her, wondering again why in hell she'd let herself get talked into this!





An hour later she was showered, blown dry, lip-glossed and encased in the only suit of body armor she'd brought with her.

She'd spent most of the past three or four years in jeans, cut-offs or coveralls. Hadn't had many occasions to "girl" up. As a consequence, she eyed her travel-proof, slinky black slacks and matching bead-trimmed tunic with some misgiving. The two pieces had proven fire-, smoke- and wrinkle-resistant. She'd crammed them into her carry-all dozens of times and could attest to their durability. Whether they were suitable for dinner with the Daltons was another matter.

The admiring gleam in Alex Dalton's eyes when she answered the door bell killed most of her doubts. At least she thought it was Alex. Yep, it was. The tiny scar on his chin ID'ed him.

Another memory suddenly surfaced. The man she'd locked lips and hips with all those months ago sported another distinguishing mark. A very kissable birthmark right …

Involuntarily, Julie's gaze dropped to a point about two inches below his belt. Just as swiftly, she whipped it up again. Hoping to heck her thoughts weren't blazing red in her face, she grabbed her purse.