The Henson Brothers: Two Complete Novels (62 page)

"Lunchtime," Nina said, carrying a bowl of chicken noodle soup. It slopped precariously from side to side.

He pushed himself from the table. "Let me help you."

"No, I've got it." She set the bowl down. The soup finally made its escape, landing on his article, blurring his handwriting into illegible blobs.

He swore fiercely. He quickly glanced up, remembering her presence. Stark dismay covered her little features and something even more threatening.

He pointed his pen at her. "Don't cry."

She pulled in her lips and nodded solemnly, her chocolate eyes melting into tears.

He sighed, resigned. His request was ridiculous. "Come here."

Her chin trembled. She shook her head and took a step back, poised for flight.

He picked her up, his voice gentle. "I'm sorry. Go ahead and cry."

She did. Deep heaving sobs that shook her entire body.

"Seems you're more like your mother than we'd both like to admit." He made light of it, but something about her crying worried him. It wasn't a simple childish sadness, there was deep sorrow, deep pain. She clung to him tight as if he would leave her.

He patted her on the back. "I'm not mad at you. You mustn't cry like that. Save your tears."

Adriana came into the room and quickly assessed the situation. She sent him a silent question.

"I think we need to go for a walk," he said.

"There's a track on the roof."

He frowned. "Not helpful."

"Oh, I'd forgotten." She had forgotten his fear of heights. Watching him hold her daughter as if he'd protect her from any known or unknown danger had caused her to forget his fears. He looked like a man without them. "There's a courtyard."

"Okay."

She quickly bundled Nina in her coat and then helped Eric with his. Only after she had tied a scarf around his neck and kissed him on the cheek did she realized what she'd done. She backed away, embarrassed.

"Sorry, it's become a habit."

His eyes laughed, but he said nothing.

"I only want you out for ten minutes." He nodded and she turned to clear the table.

* * *

It was a regular November day. The city had decided to welcome fall, so the air was chill, trees blazing with colors, leaves swirling on the ground and dancing in the wind.

"Are you sad your dad's getting married?" Eric asked as they walked in the courtyard.

For once he wished he wasn't so blunt. Nina burst into tears again. He sat on a bench and pulled her onto his lap.

"He still loves you, you know."

She shook her head, her eyes lowered. "I was bad. Very, very bad. That's why he gave me to Mom."

He tweaked her chin. "You could never be so bad that he doesn't love you."

"I can. I didn't like Irene and I ignored her and moved things and played tricks. I thought if she didn't like me, then Dad would get rid of her." Her voice dropped. "But he got rid of me instead."

"He didn't get rid of you. He just didn't want to see you hurt."

Nina swung her legs. "I'm sorry about your work," she said finally.

"It's okay."

She met his eyes. "But you were so angry."

"I was annoyed."

"You swore."

"Not at you." He adjusted his glasses and watched a squirrel scurry past. "It's a bad habit of mine. I didn't mean to make you unhappy."

She shrugged. "It's not you."

"It's not you either. You didn't cause your parents' divorce. They both love you very much, but adults aren't as smart as they seem and sometimes they show how much they love you in funny ways. Your father saw Irene mistreat you and he wanted to protect you. He thought you deserved a mother that loves you, not a stepmother that didn't."

"Then why can't he marry Mom again? Why does he have to love Irene?"

"Love just happens, you can't force it. It just is."

Nina frowned as she considered this. "I won't mind if you marry Mom. I'll be good all the time if you want."

"You're always good."

She suddenly grinned. "No, not always."

He stood, recognizing the look of mischief, glad her sadness had passed. He changed the subject. "Let's go look at the plants in your garden."

* * *

Eric tried to finish his article, but he couldn't ignore the loud pumping sound coming from Adriana's office. He opened the door and stumbled back as if struck by a sonic boom. Drums pounded and guitars screeched, throwing out a hazard of sound from the speakers. He covered his ears and turned down the volume.

Adriana turned to him, surprised. "Did you need something?"

"How can you work in that noise?"

"I like to work to music."

He massaged one ear as if in pain. "Music?"

"I once dated the guitarist of that group."

He lifted the CD case. "Corrosion of Sanity." He set it down and came up behind her as she sat at the drafting table. "Yes, I remember now." He peered over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

Adriana moved to block his view. "Oh, just some sketches." She looked at him with expectation. "Did you need anything?"

Eric picked up a sketch of a man in briefs. "No." He looked closer and furrowed his brows. "That looks like me."

"You gave me an idea."

He grabbed another sketch. "Why am I wearing high heels and a pink boa?"

She snatched it from him. "I was mad at you at the time."

He laughed. "So you turned me into a diva?"

She shrugged, guilty, relieved that he took no offense.

He lifted another sketch. "I'm impressed. Looks like a male version of your robe."

"It is."

"Don't make it yellow. Try more masculine colors."

"Yellow can be masculine."

"Not this color yellow. No man wants to end up looking like a daisy."

She looked at him.

"Straight man," he corrected.

"You have an unhealthy aversion to bright colors."

"That's not true."

"I have yet to see you in red."

He lifted a brow.

"Besides my robe."

"It's cold. I tend to wear dark colors in the winter." Eric moved her chair aside and bent over the table. "What else do you have here?"

"Nothing. I—"

He placed a finger against his lips. "Shh, I'm trying to appreciate the artwork."

"It's hardly artwork. I—"

He sent her a look; she closed her mouth. He liked the style and colors of her designs and the exquisite attention to detail. He didn't know much about lingerie but he wouldn't mind seeing her in any of them. He pointed at a sketch. "Are these tassels?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. I'm going to dream well tonight." He put the papers down. "Why didn't you tell me you have your own collection?"

"I don't," she lied. "I just do these for fun."

"Why? These look marketable. If you invested half of what you invest in others, you'd be a success."

"But it's costly. I'd need money for materials and to hire a seamstress. I know I need financial advice to pull it off, that's why I came to..." She broke off, shamefaced. Her secret was out.

He rested his hand on the back of her chair. "Let me guess. There's no parent fund."

"I didn't want you to laugh at me."

"I never laugh at good business sense. Actually, I think I'd like to invest in this."

She looked at him, alarmed. "No, you can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm not good enough yet."

Eric picked up a garter hanging off the drafting lamp. "This looks good enough for me."

Adriana snatched it away and bunched it up. "It's just a prototype."

"Why are you turning me down?"

"Because you don't know anything about lingerie."

"I know you wear it. Do I need a degree?"

"You don't know the risk factors. It's a competitive field."

"Then let me visit your store and see the competition."

"I'm not sure—"

He turned and headed out the door. "I'm glad you agree."

She threw the garter belt as he closed the door.

* * *

The smell of lavender curled a sensuous finger, drawing him into the shop. Divine Notions' velvet drapery and various shades of red—from the carpet to the window display—demonstrated a confidence that it could fulfill the most jaded woman's deepest fantasies. He approached a rack of bras, their circular shapes maintained by sufficient padding. He cupped a satin bra, liking the feel.

Adriana slapped his hand away. "That's not how you handle the merchandise."

"You would really look good in this."

"What? You don't think I have enough?"

His eyes dipped to the curve of her blouse. "Actually—"

She lifted his chin. "That was a rhetorical question. Come on."

She was showing him some of her name-brand bestsellers, when the front doorbell was violently agitated. A cold rush of air dashed into the room along with a woman in a long coat holding a Divine Notions bag and a young girl whose head was bowed. Adriana recognized the girl: Helen.

"I would like to speak to the manager!" the woman demanded.

Adriana took a deep breath and approached the pair. "May I help you?"

"Are you the manager? I don't wish to deal with some useless clerk who can't possibly handle the situation."

"I believe I can help you."

The woman measured her in one long look. "And who are you?"

"I am the owner."

This admission ignited the woman with more energy. "Well, then I have plenty to say! I have half a mind to write a petition to get this..." Her eyes scanned the shop with scorn. "Place shut down."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. How has this shop offended you?"

"How?" She shook the bag. "By peddling these indecent wares to children. My daughter bought these items from here." She dug in the bag and waved a pink bra and panty. "These are outrageous."

"Mom, please." Helen glanced at Adriana, then Eric, and blushed furiously.

"How can you encourage such lascivious behavior in a young girl?"

"Lascivious?"

"Yes, I said lascivious. I saw my daughter prancing around like a prostitute because of these things. You surround yourself with filth and you are no more than a madam, luring innocent girls into this awful den of sin. My daughter should not be encouraged to stare at her body in such a way because she's wearing clothing that advocates that."

"I doubt that a healthy appreciation of your body is—"

"I don't want my daughter getting ideas. Soon she'll be like those girls. Wearing jeans so low their thongs show. "

Adriana sighed, choosing her words carefully. "I am sorry you find the concept of wearing underwear offensive."

The woman gasped; Adriana continued. "However, if you wish to return the items—"

"Forget it. Just stay away from my daughter." She dragged her offspring and raced out the door.

Adriana watched them. A blast of cold air touched the perspiration on her skin and stung her eyes.

"Prude bitch," Sya said.

Adriana shook her head. She turned and jumped back when she saw Eric standing there. She had forgotten about him.

His eyes were as hard as stone. "Does that happen a lot?"

She blinked quickly, waiting for the stinging in her eyes to subside. "Thank goodness, no. Unfortunately, there are enough people with such thoughts to make your days difficult." The woman was similar to her mother, who was embarrassed to tell her friends what her daughter did. Her grandmother, who wished she had a proper career. And her father, who thought she could put her talents to better use.

Eric draped a brotherly arm on her shoulders. "It's a shame how one person can ruin a perfectly good day."

She nodded.

"I once had this client, an attractive woman, I might add."

"Would you have mentioned her looks if she was ugly?"

"Of course not. May I continue?"

Adriana rolled her eyes. "Yes, you may."

"As I was saying, she came into my office and told me all my ideas were illogical and poorly thought out."

She was about to express her sympathies until she realized he was talking about her. She smiled, chagrined. "And you slept with her out of revenge, right?"

Eric's eyes darkened. "No. Do you want to know why?"

No. She turned away from his gaze. "Well, now you see the competition."

"And I'm still interested in investing."

"Then you have to be at the fashion show," Sya said. "She's going to show her designs."

Adriana looked at her and made a face in warning. "I don't think that's necessary."

Sya ignored her. "It's going to be a great show."

"When is it?" he asked.

Sya gave him all the details. Adriana pretended to straighten a rack. She wished he hadn't shown interest, because she would be disappointed if he didn't show up.

***

Eric sat on the edge of the bed, staring at Elissa as she groomed herself. He listened to water rushing in the bathroom sink as Adriana prepared for bed. He was getting too comfortable here. He was over his illness. He should have left by now, but he was still here. Still sleeping in Adriana's bed, eating her food, walking her daughter to the bus stop. He glanced around the room. Every night he spent here felt like a dream. The luxurious colors, the vibrancy shimmering under the surface, and the tranquil energy that calmed it—calmed him. It made him feel as though this was where he belonged. He couldn't keep up this illusion. He would have to leave.

He turned when the bathroom door opened.

"Close your eyes," Adriana said. "I have a surprise for you."

He shut one eye. "Okay, they're closed."

She peeked around the corner and glared at him. "Both eyes."

He shut the other one. "Now they're both closed."

He heard her move in front of him. "Okay, open them," she said.

He stared at her, his pulse quickening. She was dressed in a tight, white nurse's uniform.

She struck a pose. "Ta da!"

"What's this?"

Her hands fell to her sides. "What does it look like?"

"Like you're about to make rounds at a local hospital and get thrown out."

Adriana adjusted her skirt. It was an inch higher than decent. "Don't tell me you've never had nurse fantasies."