Part 9 (1/2)
Monica stared. ”Make fun of me if you want, but I think David is in love with your wife.”
”I'm sure he is,” Hugh said, sounding calmer than he felt, ”but that doesn't mean he'd ever get her in bed. My wife loves me, Monica.”
”But there's love-s.e.x and there's s.e.x-s.e.x. David is one s.e.xy guy.”
”Ah. That explains your keeping track of his comings and goings. Have the hots for him, do you?”
She stared up at him for another minute, then said, ”Forget I mentioned it.”
Tugging at the dogs, she let them pull her back home, and just in time. Had she stayed a minute longer, she would have seen the black sedan that came down the street. Hugh's brother, Robert, emerged and turned back to help his uncle climb out.
Bradley Clarke was five years older than Eaton, which put him at seventy-four, give or take. He wasn't as tall or good-looking as his brother, though the Clarke jaw and broad brow were marked, but what he lacked in physical stature he made up for in business ac.u.men. There were older living Clarkes, a cl.u.s.ter of cousins in their nineties, but Bradley was the one who feathered the family nest and, in so doing, was perceived as being the patriarch.
Hugh admired his uncle. He was grateful that the family interests were in such capable hands.
That said, he had never liked the man. He found him arrogant, curt, and devoid of warmth. Robert, who worked with him on a regular basis-and who now went on into the house while Bradley stood with Hugh at the curb-claimed to have seen the warmth many times. Hugh had to take it on faith.
That faith was tested the minute the older man opened his mouth. ”What in the h.e.l.l did you say to your father? He's in a lousy mood.”
”I'm sorry if he's taken it out on you,” Hugh said with due deference, though he refused to cower. ”He said some ugly things about my child.”
”Is it yours?”
”Yes.”
”Did you figure out yet where its coloring is from?”
”It's a she, and we a.s.sume one of Dana's ancestors was African American.”
”Then Dana is black.”
”So's your chauffeur,” Hugh said lightly, and ducked his head to smile at Caleb. Hugh had pa.s.sed many an otherwise unbearably boring family event standing outside on the drive by the car, talking with Caleb. ”Maybe he'd like to come take a look at my daughter?”
Bradley said, ”No need for that, but I would.” He was halfway up the stairs when David came from the house and innocently extended his hand.
”Mr. Clarke. David Johnson. Good to see you again.”
Bradley's face was stony. His hand met David's in a perfunctory shake. Then he went on inside.
Hugh swore softly and rubbed the aching back of his neck.
”Trouble?” David asked.
Hugh snorted. ”At least he didn't see you sprawled all over her.”
David made a face. ”Huh?”
”Oh, come on. I can only laugh up to a point.”
”Can you explain that?”
”They think you're the father.”
David drew in his chin. ”They do? Wow. I'm flattered.”
”Yeah, and while you're flattered, I'm humiliated. Dana's my wife. It's all well and good that you think she's great, but do you have to march into my house like you own the place?”
David took a step back and held up a hand. ”No harm meant.”
But the dike had burst. Hugh couldn't stop. ”Where's your common sense, man? h.e.l.l, we can pretend we don't see her coloring, but there's this baby who looks like you, and there you are, head over heels in love with my wife-”
”Hold it, Hugh. Your wife is my friend.”
”You knew her before I did,” Hugh realized with some discomfort. ”Was there something going on between you two back then? A secret you agreed not to share?”
”No.”
”But you date white women all the time. You were married to one. In my field, that's called precedent.”
”You're outta line.”
”Don't tell me I'm outta line,” Hugh shouted, ”she's my wife!”
”Hugh,” said Robert, opening the screen.
Hugh turned and glared at his brother and uncle. He felt like he was being cornered, pushed toward something he loathed but was helpless to stop.
Eyes on Hugh, David held up a cautioning hand. Then he turned and went down the stairs.
”What was that about?” Bradley asked in an imperial tone.
Hugh lashed out, ”Did you see my daughter?”
”Yes.”
”Do you think she's my daughter?”
”She's definitely a Joseph baby.”
”And the father?” Hugh asked. ”Who do you think that is?”
”Who do you think?” Bradley shot back.
”I thought it was me, until you all started looking at him,” he said, nodding toward David's house, ”but there's a way to find out. Know how many DNA tests I've arranged for my clients? I know how it's done and who does it best.” He strode past them and into the house.
Dana was tired. Her bottom ached and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were starting to harden. She loved seeing friends, loved seeing David, but she could have done without Hugh's brother and uncle. Robert had made a brief show of affection; his uncle hadn't even tried. And now Hugh, saying...what?