The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (43 page)

Adriana smiled. The guy was definitely quick. She wanted to see how he would respond to a few more harmless taunts. "So how are you going to celebrate? Dust off a couple of dictionaries, read the financial expenses of a nineteenth-century household, or organize the soup cans in your kitchen?"

She heard the sound of the bottom drawer closing. He straightened. "Actually, at the stroke of midnight I'm going to ask Lynda to marry me."

She dropped her handbag, spilling the contents on the floor. She didn't notice. "I don't believe you."

He came from behind the desk and began gathering her things. "It's true."

She kneeled down and stared at him as if he were a Gucci bag marked 85 percent off. Why was it just when she thought she had him figured out, he did or said something unexpected? "But that's so romantic."

He picked up her bag and flashed a wicked grin. "Surprised? Don't be. The reason is practical." He handed her the bag. "It has to do with midnight and when I was born."

She clutched the bag, her eyes never leaving his face. "What about it?"

He hesitated.

She shook his shoulder. "Go on. Tell me."

"I was born dead. They were going to bury me when my grandmother took me and dunked me in ice water. I let out a yell just as the clock struck midnight. So I always thought midnight on my birthday meant a special change." He suddenly frowned and bit his lip, annoyed with himself. "But don't let me bore you."

She grabbed his arm before he could stand. "You're not boring me. It's absolutely fascinating and wonderful." The story was as beautiful and haunting as a myth. "I just never thought of you as romantic. It's hard to believe you're going to ask her to marry you tonight."

He looked down at her hand clutching his arm. She pulled away. "I told you I'm not being romantic. However, I do have proof that I'm going to ask her." He reached inside his jacket pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and held it out to her. "Go ahead and open it."

She looked worried. "Shouldn't she be the first one to open this?"

"No. Why?"

"Something to do with luck."

"Don't worry." He sensed her hesitation and opened the box for her.

Adriana gazed at the diamond ring, gleaming against the blue interior of the box. "It's lovely."

He studied her face. "You're not impressed."

"Of course I'm impressed."

A smile played with the corners of his mouth. "It's a little too traditional for you, isn't it? You'd probably prefer a large sapphire surrounded by rubies or the brilliant blue of a lapis lazuli."

She offered him a small grin. "Perhaps. It is beautiful though."

Her ex-husband had given her one similar to it when he had proposed to her in their sophomore year of college. It was on the banks of the Tidal Basin. She had been so ready then to be what her family wanted. Stable, educated, married. Laurence had been the perfect traditional man for a young woman searching to be the perfect daughter. He knew the right things to
say, do, be, and he eventually suffocated her. She remembered the sense of relief when she had taken his simple diamond ring off her finger. "My ex-husband gave me one like it."

Eric met her eyes. "I didn't know you had an ex-husband."

And a daughter, but he didn't need to know about that. "Yes, one of my many accomplishments in life."

"You didn't mention alimony."

"I'm not getting alimony. I don't deserve it. Poor Laurence."

"Why do you say that?"

"I tried, but I didn't make a very good wife. Actually, he was a lot like you, except..." She trailed off.

"Except what?"

Except that he was what he seemed while Eric, though undoubtedly cerebral, seemed to have a wild energy that he kept well tamed. Any time she was near him she felt somehow threatened by his controlled isolation in a purely feminine way. It both annoyed and intrigued her.

"Except that you're both different," she finished lamely. "So how are you going to do it?"

"Do what?"

"Ask her to marry you?"

He scratched his head, confused. "Isn't there just one way? The man holds out the ring and says, 'I think we should get married.'"

Her shoulders fell. She grasped the front of her shirt in dismay. "Oh no! Don't say it like that!"

"Why not?"

"Because that's horrible and boring. You must put some heart into it. Some passion. Say something like..." She glanced at the ceiling and tapped her cheek. She suddenly held out both hands. "I've got it! Listen to this." She lowered her voice and rested a hand on her chest. "Lynda, you make me the happiest man in the world. I can't imagine going on without you." She grabbed his hands and pulled them to her. "I love you with all my heart, mind, and soul. Will you be my wife?"

She looked at him. He looked at her. They burst into laughter.

He had a wonderful laugh. It wasn't awkward or forced, but deep and true, waking something within her.

"All right," she said, sobering. "I admit it's a little corny."

"Corny? I couldn't even imagine those words coming out of my mouth."

"But you have to have some romance, some words that will have lasting sentimental value."

"I think 'will you marry me?' is sentimental enough."

She nodded. "Simple and straight to the point. You can't go wrong there. Just don't get down on one knee. Or if you do, make sure to watch where you land. Laurence kneeled on a rock and it led to a few awkward moments. He ended up limping."

"I'll remember that," he said sincerely.

She wished his eyes weren't so intense. At such a close range their cool glow sent a shot of heat up her spine. How could something so cold be beautiful at the same time? To combat her wayward thoughts she began to ramble. "Are you going to pick her up at her apartment? Does she know you're coming? I hope so. There is nothing worse than having an unexpected visitor arrive when you have a mud mask hardening on your face."

"You speak from experience?"

"I was scarred for life when my high school crush arrived on my doorstep to sell Girl Scout cookies for his little sister. I think I bought thirty dollars' worth just to make up for my face."

"Caramel Delites and Thin Mints."

"How did you guess?"

"You seem the type."

"And I bet you're a shortbread cookies man."

He raised a brow, but said nothing.

She snapped the velvet box closed. For some reason the sight of the ring was beginning to annoy her. "So are you madly in love?" He looked blank. She had used the wrong words. Eric, she reminded herself. She was speaking to Eric. "I mean do you feel a warm affection for her?"

His brows furrowed. "I wouldn't be asking her to marry me if I didn't."

She smoothed out her skirt. "You'll fall violently in love eventually. It will come as a shock to you one day. You'll look up from your
Newsweek
and see her pounding away at the calculator with a pencil stuck lovingly behind her ear."

His eyes twinkled. "Are you an expert?"

"On love? No."

"How do you think it will be for you?"

She glanced out the window, no longer able to meet his gaze. "It will fall on me like a load of bricks."

"Sounds painful."

"Love is painful."

"Did you love your ex-husband?"

"I tried." She looked at him, ashamed. "Sounds awful, doesn't it, not loving your husband?"

He shrugged. "It sounds honest."

She abruptly stood. Kneeling on the floor together had become too intimate. He stared at her with such intensity her knees began to shake. She knew she was going to start babbling again. She went to his desk and stared at the picture there—a portrait of Lynda.

She had a pleasant, intelligent face. The type of face that spoke of belonging to the right family, going to the right schools, and having the right career. She imagined that's how she had looked on Laurence's desk in the early days.

"You don't like her," Eric said from behind.

She didn't move. If she stepped back she would touch him and her traitorous body would probably enjoy it. "I'm happy she's marrying you."

"Ouch. That means you really don't like her." She turned and looked at him, her face earnest. "No, don't misunderstand me. I mean she's perfect for you. She'll make you happy. You deserve to be happy. Everyone does and when you're lucky enough to find the right match you should snatch them up right away and not worry about what other people think or say." Oh God, she was babbling! "She seems like a nice woman, educated, attractive, almost perfect." Why wouldn't he move back? "You'll be happy. Very happy." Somehow she wanted that. He was obnoxious at times, but basically good, and deserved to be happy in the way she had never been able to make Laurence.

"I'm not looking for perfect, just suitable."

"Do you think she loves you? It is possible," she snapped at his disbelief. True, it was hard to imagine anyone falling in
love
with Eric. Although his brother and sister cared for him and Cassie adored him, Eric seemed like a hard man to love. She changed the subject, not wanting to hear the answer. "So does Drake know about your plans?"

Eric sat behind his desk, his mind still on the possibility that Lynda could love him. He would hate that kind of burden. Drake, his older brother, loved his wife. It was his marriage to Cassie and the birth of his niece that prompted him to seriously start thinking of having a family of his own. He had vaguely thought about it but the urgency rose when he had held Ericka in his arms.

He wanted someone with a similar temperament and a background far better than his own. Lynda fit those requirements. He had known her only six months but was sure they could build a promising future. He didn't expect to experience the great love his brother had for Cassie—he wasn't the type. He would settle for contented. That was a reasonable goal. Lynda was stable, sensible, and would fall into his life with ease.

"No," he said. "You're the only one who knows."

Adriana sat on the edge of the desk. "I'm flattered."

He knew she wasn't mocking him and offered her a brief smile. "Now let's get back to your concerns about the budget."

She waved the topic away with an impatient gesture. "Forget about the budget. What do you plan to do before midnight? It's your birthday. You must celebrate."

"It's no big deal."

"You're one hundred and ten, of course it's a big deal." She swung her foot for a moment, then leaped off the desk. "I've got an idea. A few friends and I are seeing a play, then going for drinks afterward. Why don't you join us?"

"What's the title of the play?"

"Does it matter?"

"I want to know if it's something I've read about. Reviews can be a helpful gauge for how good or bad the show is."

"It's all a matter of opinion. Besides, this is a small play that hasn't received much notice yet. It's called
The Ink Spot."

He adjusted his glasses. "Is that what we'll be staring at all evening?"

"Eric, it's your birthday." She leaned toward him. "I can't have you sitting around until midnight strikes. Think of me as your fairy godmother."

He reached out and touched one of her earrings, his knuckles brushing against her cheek. "Are these your magic wands?"

"Yes," she managed, surprised by the gesture. "Your life will soon change and you have to celebrate."

"We don't even know if she'll say yes."

"She'll say yes."

"How do you know?"

"I'm optimistic."

He rested his chin in his hand and stared out at the October sky. The wind had settled. Distant buildings lit the coming darkness.

She came behind the desk and grabbed his hands. "You're coming with me. I can't leave you on a cold autumn day with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company." She handed him a tissue. He frowned at it. "What's this for?"

"You still have lipstick on your cheek." He let her drag him to the door. He sensed his life would change tonight, but not in the way he expected.

Chapter 2

"It was brilliant!" Tanya Leonard exclaimed, fanning her hand through the air. Eric ducked to avoid decapitation. The gold bracelets on her pale wrist clinked, as her brown eyes reflected her enthusiasm. "Did you ever see something so expertly executed?" The arm flew through the air again. Eric covered his beer before the loose sleeve of her peasant blouse dipped in it. "The lighting, the stage, the set."

He lifted his drink and frowned. What set? He only remembered seeing a chair and a large black rug—the ink spot presumably.

He was an unsuspecting traveler lost in the hummingbird's forest. Her friends hummed and buzzed like a various assortment of birds. Adriana somehow stood out from the dramatic crowd. She complemented them in dress, but in manner appeared much more subdued. Though even a hyperactive child would look sedate against this colorful group. Oddly enough, he liked seeing her there. He liked watching her in her domain. She truly enjoyed life and it was a rare person who did so. He had stared at her face through most of the play, watching an exhausting amount of emotions cross it: joy, despair, awe.