The Paternity Proposition. Merline Lovelace

the possibility sent a shiver of delicious anticipation down her spine.

      “You were gone when I woke up,” he commented, breaking into her thoughts.

      “I had a five a.m. show time at the airport.”

      Also a major case of the guilts. She’d been dating someone else at that time. Not seriously, but regularly enough to add a nagging sense of disloyalty to her dismay at having done something so completely uncharacteristic. She and Todd had gone their separate ways soon afterward. Probably due to the fact that he—along with the two or three other men Julie had dated since—had suffered mightily in comparison to this one.

      Okay. She could admit it. She’d thought about tracking Dalton down once or twice after their brief encounter. Might even have checked the logs at the Nuevo Laredo airport for his home base after she broke it off with Todd. But she’d taken a job hauling mine supplies in Chile immediately prior to buying into Agro-Air. That was a grueling, inter-Andes killer, and since returning to the States she’d had nothing but long days, exhausted nights, and too many Dusty Jonesstyle headaches to even consider a life outside fungicides and fertilizers. Thank God they were in that narrow window between spring harvest and prep for winter wheat planting. She finally had a few weeks to finish overhauling the Pawnee.

      Reminded of the engine dripping oil outside, she decided to lay things on the line. “I’m flattered you drove all the way out to the Panhandle to find me, Dalton, but you need to know that I’m not the same person I was last time we crossed paths. A lot’s happened in my life since then, and I don’t have the time or the energy for a casual fling. Not that our last one wasn’t fun,” she tacked on when his brows straight-lined.

      “I didn’t come here hoping to pick up where we left off.”

      Ooooh-kay. Glad they cleared that one up.

      “So why did you track me down?”

      As soon as the words were out it belatedly occurred to her that he might want to talk business. Although they hadn’t gotten around to sharing detailed family histories during their previous encounter, she’d deduced from the plane he was piloting and the very expensive watch he’d sported that he was related to the Daltons who owned a major manufacturing operation headquartered in Oklahoma. He’d just confirmed that a few moments ago with Chuck. As far as Julie knew, Dalton International wasn’t into agricultural aviation but they could be considering it. The field looked to become extremely lucrative if recent crop trends continued.

      Unless, of course, you’d bought into a company whose senior partner was addicted to the slots. Suppressing a grimace, Julie waited for Dalton to continue. He did, with no trace of a smile in either his voice or his eyes now.

      “I came to find out if I got you pregnant that night in Nuevo Laredo.”

      “What?”

      “You heard me.” His expression was positively unfriendly now. “Did you get pregnant, give birth to a baby girl, and deposit her on my mother’s doorstep two weeks ago?”

      Her jaw dropped. She gaped at him, stunned into sputtering incoherence. “You’re … You’re kidding, right?”

      “Wrong.”

      The flat reply snapped her jaw shut. This man had put her through a whiplash of emotions in the past ten minutes. Surprise had topped the list but fury was fast moving into first place. And here she’d thought … Sort of hoped …

       Idiot!

      They’d only been together one night. Never had time to get to know each other beyond that instant, sizzling attraction. But the fact that he would think, even for a moment, that she was the kind of woman who’d abandon her own child put fire in Julie’s heart. Shoving away from the desk, she stalked to the office door and yanked it open.

      “Take my word for it. If I did have a baby, I certainly wouldn’t deposit her on your mother or anyone’s else’s doorstep. Now I suggest you climb back into your bright, shiny Jag and get the hell out of my sight.”

      He didn’t budge.

      “You took a job down in Chile eight months ago. Didn’t come back until late May. The private investigator I hired hasn’t been able to verify your whereabouts during that time.”

      No surprise there! Without resorting to her log, even Julie would have a hard time remembering every remote strip she’d flown into during those hectic months. She didn’t like that Dalton had put a bloodhound sniffing after her, though.

      “Where I went and when I returned is none of your damned business. I don’t know who you think you are, but ….”

      “I think I’m the baby’s father,” he shot back. “DNA tests show a seventy percent probability.”

      That sidetracked her for a moment. “I thought those tests were, like, ninety-nine point nine percent accurate.”

      “They are, in ninety-nine point nine percent of the cases,” he replied stiffly. “There’s a slight margin for error when the potential father has an identical twin.”

      “You’re a twin?”

      “Yes.”

      Good grief! There were two like him on the loose?

      Or were they? On the loose, that is? Dalton hadn’t worn a wedding ring when they’d met. Didn’t wear one now, she noted with a swift glance at his left hand. Not that a naked ring finger proved anything.

      “This is your problem,” Julie told him, acid dripping from every syllable, “not mine. Now you need to be on your way. There’s an engine outside that requires my attention.”

      She cracked the door wider and made a shooing motion. Once again, he didn’t move.

      “There’s only one way to determine the baby’s paternity beyond any doubt.”

      “And that is?”

      “Match the father and the mother’s DNA.”

      “I repeat. That’s your problem. Besides,” she added as a new thought pierced her simmering anger. “I can’t be the only female you, uh, connected with last year. Have you searched your entire database?”

      “As a matter of fact, I have. You’re the last contact on my list.”

      Well, she’d asked. Now she knew. He’d gone through his entire black book before scraping the bottom of the barrel.

      “Would you like to know what you can do with your list?”

      Dalton’s face flushed a dull red, and an anger that matched her own sparked in his eyes. “Hard as this may be to believe, I don’t make a habit of hitting on every female I meet.”

      And Julie didn’t usually let strange men hit on her. She was damned if she’d admit that, though. If Mr. Rich Guy Dalton wanted to think she was a tramp, let him!

      Rigid with fury, she yanked the door all the way open. “Get out.”

      “All I’m requesting is a hair or saliva sample.”

      “Get out.”

      He moved then, but only to where she stood. Julie tipped her chin and held her own but she had to admit she didn’t remember the sexy stud she’d hooked up with for one wild night being quite this tall. Or this intimidating. He stood so close she could make out the gold tips of his lashes, the faint white scar on one side of his chin, the utter determination in those deadly blue eyes.

      Julie was no shrimp. At five-eight, she’d had to shoehorn into more than one cramped cockpit. She’d also learned to extricate herself from tricky situations while flying in and out of some less than desirable locales. Dalton topped her by a good four or five inches, however, and right now he looked as tough as any of the macho hotheads she’d encountered over the years.

      “Look,” he said, making an obvious effort to rein in his temper, “this isn’t