The Paternity Proposition(9)

"Belinda's an unusual cat. Dusty swears she can sniff out stinkbugs or wireworms a half mile away. I didn't believe him until I saw her in action. She made a believer out of me. A good number of our clients, too."

"Maybe I should make sure he includes Belinda in the inventory of Agro-Air's physical assets when we close our deal."

The reminder of their deal should have put a damper on Julie's after-dessert glow-and it probably would have if she wasn't so darned conscious of the tanned forearm stretched across the back of the booth. She could make out the hard muscles, the sprinkling of sun-bleached hair, the glint of his mucho expensivo platinum chronometer.

"Maybe you should," she said, deliberately angling away.

"Would you like coffee? Or cappuccino? Cecile makes it with honest-to-goodness whipped cream."

"I'll pass, but you go ahead if you want one."

"I'm good."

He eased out of the booth with a casual grace and came around to Julie's side to offer his hand. She hesitated for the barest instant as the glow faded and sudden, insidious doubts raced through her mind. Alex and Cecile were so friendly. Had he arranged for the chef to save the glass Julie had drunk from? One of the forks? Slip it into a plastic bag for shipment to a lab?

He'd promised he wouldn't take anything she wasn't ready to give. Could she trust him to keep his word? Instinct said yes. Logic argued no, that he had too much at stake.

Well, hell! This absurd situation was making her crazy!

Then she looked up into his eyes and went with her gut. Her hand slid into his. The strong, tactile fingers that had made her body sing closed around hers. All too aware of the sensations they once again generated, she eased out of the booth and withdrew her hand to reach for her purse. She led the way to the front of the restaurant and was mentally computing her half of the check when he waved to the owner.

"Au revoir, Cecile."

She saluted with a spatula from the open kitchen. "Au revoir."

"We didn't get a check," Julie protested as Alex shouldered open the door to the street.

"Cecile keeps my credit card on file."

"She doesn't have mine." Julie halted just outside the door. The still muggy summer night flowed around them as she tackled the issue head on. "I thought I made myself clear. I want to pay my own way this week."

"It was just dinner, Julie."

"Funny, it feels more like a bribe to me. Some folks might even say this whole week smacks of blackmail."

He shrugged, completely indifferent to the accusation. "I consider it a precondition to a legitimate business proposition."

"So you're going to charge all my expenses to the company's ledger?"

"No, of course not. But … "

"No buts, Dalton. I've been pretty much on my own since I was seventeen. I pay, or I don't play."

Alex started to object when he remembered that the copper-haired pilot he'd hooked up with had roused before dawn and dropped a kiss on her half-asleep bed partner, murmuring that she had an early take-off. When he'd rolled out of bed and departed several hours later, the motel bill was already taken care of.

"Okay," he conceded. "I'll keep a record of all expenses incurred. We can settle up at the end of your stay."

Or not. He had no intention of presenting her with a bill. He'd dug through Agro-Air's balance sheets. He doubted she or either of her partners could handle a solid week of special reserve reds or dinners at places like Cecile's. Besides, by the end of her stay he would know for certain whether Julie was Molly's birth mother. If so, the expenses she racked up this week would drop below the noise level amid the much heavier negotiations to follow.                       
       
           



       

The idea that Julie Barlett would give up her child was looking less likely by the moment, however. The woman was fiercely independent. When you factor stubborn as hell into the equation, Alex couldn't see her walking away from anything, much less her own baby.

If not for those as-yet-unexplained gaps during her months in South America and her flat-out refusal to provide a DNA sample, he might have called a halt to this enforced visitation right then and there. Then he caught the sway of her hips as she pushed through the entrance to the Dalton building.

He'd give it another day or two, Alex decided, his eyes on her trim rear and slender hips. See if his PI could fill in the gaps. Peel another layer or two off Julie's prickly exterior.





When the elevator glided to a stop, that's all he intended to do. Just dig a little deeper. Get to know the woman inside the nicely packaged female. Was it his fault her use of the phrase "when I play" kept looping though his mind, repeating over and over like a damaged CD?

"Play" didn't begin to describe their interaction a year ago. There'd been some giggles on her part. He remembered that. Some laughter on his. Then everything had heated up. Time and the press of business had diluted the X-rated edges, but enough remained for Alex to use the pretext of outlining tomorrow's schedule to invite himself in for a nightcap.

"We've got a schedule?" Julie echoed, tossing her purse and key card on the glass-topped coffee table that ate up most of the sitting room.

"My mother quit the business five years ago but she has a hard time letting go of the reins." He felt the usual rush of affection too often strained to the limit. "She's got us down for brunch, ten o'clock. After that, I thought I would give you a tour of our local operations."

While Julie mulled that over, he crossed to the mahogany wall unit containing an entertainment center on one side and a fully stocked wet bar on the other.

"What's your pleasure?" Doors opened to display shelves lined with expensive brands. "We have all the regular labels, liqueurs, wine. Oh, and the speciality of the house."

"Which is?"

"A blend my father had bottled for him in Scotland. He named it Jake's Folly."

"Okay, I'll bite. Why folly?"

"He would never tell us. Neither will our mother, but she refuses to touch the stuff."

When Julie moved in for a closer look at the black label with a gold-embossed oil rig gushing crude, Alex breathed in her scent. Soap and shampoo and brandy from the crepes Suzette. Did she have any idea of how seductive it was? Or how the shimmering beads decorating the neckline of her blouse enhanced the color of her unusual eyes? One was the deep, dark green of a forest glen just before dusk. The other was that same glen, but with a touch of autumn in its gold and brown flecks. With their fringe of thick black lashes, they drew Alex in-and raised a new round of questions in his mind.

Molly's eyes were a grayish blue, but that could change. Most babies' eye color wasn't set until they were nine or ten months old, or so Delilah had informed her sons. Would Molly's eyes deepen to dark cobalt like his? Or shade toward green like Julie's?

For a moment Alex regretted his promise not to take a DNA sample without her permission. The sample may not hold up in court if it came to a custody suit but at least he would know.

He killed the thought almost as soon as it surfaced. He'd given his word. He'd stand by it. But he hadn't promised to back away completely.

"Your hair's longer than I remembered from Nuevo Laredo," he commented, letting his gaze roam the shining cap.

She looked a little wary at the mention of their night together but shrugged. "I didn't have much time to fuss with it during the past year, so I let it grow long enough to pull back out of the way."

Casually, he curled a coppery strand around his finger and feathered the ends with his thumb. "I like it."

That wasn't all he liked. Using the dark red strand as a tether, Alex moved closer. "I remember a few other details from that night."

"So do I." Warning signs went up in her face. "Enough to let you know right up front there isn't going to be a repeat performance."

She didn't pull back, however, or tug her hair free. Alex noted both with a quick leap of satisfaction.

"No repeat performance, huh?" He pretended to ponder that. "I'm pretty sure I used most of my good moves that night. Given enough time and the proper incentive, though, I might be able to come up with something original."

Julie couldn't help herself. He looked so solemn, as though he was giving the matter some really heavy consideration. She let a grin slip past her common sense.

"Speaking from personal experience, I can verify that your moves were very good. And I suspect you wouldn't need much in the way of incentive to come up with some new ones."

"You're right. In fact, all it might take is this."

He tugged gently on her hair, urging her closer while giving her plenty of advance notice of his intentions.                       
       
           



       

Julie had more than enough time to deliver a swift kick to her conscience. She could put up a front with Dalton, but she couldn't lie to herself. She'd driven into the city with a very mixed bag of motives. It wasn't just about the business deal this man had offered. Or Dusty's sworn promise to refrain from feeding the slots if she complied with Dalton's outrageous precondition. Or even the innate sense of fairness that acknowledged this man had a legitimate need to know his child's heritage. The sad truth was that Alex Dalton irritated and aroused her in equal measures.