One Secret Night, One Secret Baby

by Charlene Sands

  She gazed into his eyes then, and it hit him with dazzling clarity. He blinked rapidly several times. “You’re not saying...”

  She hadn’t said anything yet. But a knot formed in the pit of his stomach. And he knew what she was going to say, not because he remembered it, but because she’d given him the full picture of her life leading up to that moment. And he was cast in the starring role.

  “I wouldn’t let you leave, Dylan.” Her head down, she began shaking it. “I begged you to stay with me. I was scared out of my wits. The whole city was pitch-black and you knew I would freak out if you left me, so you agreed, and then...we, uh...”

  “We made love?” He couldn’t believe he was asking Emma, his little sister’s friend, this question. Emma, the efficient one. The one always in control, the one who never took risks, never strayed from the straight-and-narrow path. Emma Rae Bloom. He’d bedded her?

  Her eyes were filling with unshed tears. “It was my fault.”

  He winced. The entire script was now playing in his head. Emma had been intoxicated and scared and he’d come to her rescue and then seduced her. Crap.

  He rubbed a finger over his eye. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

  “I wouldn’t let you leave. I pleaded with you to stay with me. You kept saying something like You’ve got it all wrong, or This is wrong, but because of my fear and the alcohol I wouldn’t listen. I just needed...you.”

  “I don’t remember a thing, honey. I don’t. So, you’re sure...” Hell, what a creep he was, about to ask her if she was sure the baby was his. If it was anyone but Emma, he would ask that question. And demand proof. But Emma wouldn’t lie. She wouldn’t try to pull a fast one on him. Her story made sense. He wouldn’t have left her to fend for herself that night. If she was in trouble, he would’ve gone to get her himself. But he thought he would’ve drawn the line at taking advantage of a frightened friend, tempting as she might have been. Damn it all.

  Maybe his subconscious had known all along he’d been with Emma. Maybe that explained the reason behind his recent attraction to her. He’d always thought of her as off-limits, but after the accident, things between them seemed to change.

  He kept his voice soft. “You’re sure that you’re pregnant?”

  “I mean, I haven’t seen a doctor yet, but the tests were all positive.”

  “How many did you take?”

  She glanced away. “Seven.”

  “Ah, just to be sure.”

  “Yeah.”

  Dylan heaved a sigh. He realized his first words to her would have great impact, so he treaded carefully. But hell, he was stunned. And clueless about that night. He ran a hand through his hair and then mustered a smile. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yeah. I don’t have any answers now, Emma. But you’re not alone in this. I’m here. And we’ll figure it out together.”

  He knew damn well he’d have to marry her. No child of his was going to grow up without a father and mother. He’d seen too much neglect and abuse over the years. Before Brooke came along and was adopted by his folks, they’d brought many frightened, insecure children into their family, cared for them and nurtured them until they could find a loving home. His child would have his name and all the privileges and love he could give. But now wasn’t the time to propose marriage to Emma.

  They were both in shock.

  * * *

  Dylan was trying to be charming, trying to be patient, but Emma could tell by the worry lines creasing his forehead he was at a loss. She was, too. But already, she was in love with her baby, Dylan’s child, and would move heaven and earth to make things right.

  She rose, steady on her feet, and Dylan bounced up from the sofa, his concerned gaze never wavering. “I need to use the restroom,” she said.

  “I’ll walk you.”

  “No, I’m okay. I’m not dizzy anymore and I know where it is.” Dylan’s lips were pursed tight but he didn’t argue as she walked away with steady measured steps and entered the bathroom.

  She splashed water on her face, the cool, crisp feel of it perking her up. As her head came up from the sink, her reflection stared back at her in the mirror. The color had returned to her face. And her legs didn’t feel like jelly anymore. Revealing a secret as big as this one was therapeutic, as if a light had been turned on and she could see again. She felt free, relieved and unburdened.

  But that feeling lasted only a few seconds. As she exited the bathroom, Dylan was there, leaning against the wall with arms folded, his face barely masking his concern. He approached her and took her hand. “How are you feeling, Em?”

  The slightest touch of his large hand on hers was enough to wake her sleeping endorphins. As they tried to spread cheer, all she could think about was pulling away from him. Pulling away from the caring way he said her name. Away from what she feared almost as much as being alone in the dark. Falling for him. Really, in the flesh, head-over-heels falling for him, leaving her broken and shattered.

  She’d been unloved all of her life.

  But to be unloved by Dylan would be the hardest of all.

  “I’m fine. Much better actually.”

  “I want you to stay here tonight.”

  “Why?” She stared into the deep sea of his eyes. They weren’t commanding exactly, but filled with expectation. Like the rest of him.

  “You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

  “Isn’t that how I got pregnant in the first place?”

  It was a bad joke. Not a joke really, the truth, but Dylan didn’t seem to take offense. His lips quirked a bit. “Oh, how I wish I knew.”

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember, either. My brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. I just have flashes here and there of how it was.”

  He nodded, staring at her as if he still couldn’t believe they’d made love. As if the thought was foreign to him. He didn’t say the words, but there was an apology on his expression. “Just for the record, and I do appreciate you not asking, but I’m sure it’s your baby, Dylan. I haven’t been sexually active in quite a while.”

  His tanned face became infused with color that wasn’t there before. Dylan McKay blushing was a rare sight.

  “I figured.”

  Her brows lifted at the quickness of his response. Had he just insulted her?

  “I mean, you wouldn’t lie to me, Emma,” he explained. “I know you’re telling the truth.”

  Better.

  “I’m not staying here tonight, Dylan.”

  He’d walked her into the kitchen, where he handed her a glass of water. “You’ve been sick for days and you fainted just a few minutes ago. You need someone with you.”

  She sipped and took a moment to gather her thoughts. “You’re not going to watch over me all night, Dylan.”

  “I didn’t intend to. But there’s nothing wrong with a friend checking in on a friend, is there?”

  “That’s what text messages are for.”

  He snorted, and it was sexy. How much trouble was she in?

  “You’re gonna cause me a sleepless night.”

  “Look, you can drop me off at home and then text me when you get back here. I promise to text you first thing in the morning.”

  “Whatever happened to phone calls?”

  “Fine, I’ll call you when I wake up.”

  “And what if you’re sick again?”

  “You’ll come to my rescue. I have no doubt.”

  He rubbed his hand back and forth across the expanse of his jaw as he contemplated her words. “I wish you weren’t so stubborn about this.”

  “I’m not stubborn, just practical. I think we need space right now...to think.”

  “That’s my line, honey. And notice I didn’t say it? Because right now, it’s more important to m
ake sure you get your health back.”

  “I’ve been taking care of myself for almost twenty-six years. I can manage, trust me.”

  He nodded slowly, giving her a stern fatherly look. God, she’d always hated when Dylan did that. He wasn’t her guardian or big brother. “Fine, then. I’ll drive you home.”

  Half an hour later, they pulled up to her building. Dylan insisted on coming into her apartment, his take on seeing her safely home. Her emotional well was dry and she didn’t have it in her to argue the point.

  “So this is where we, uh...conceived the baby?” His eyes dipped down to her belly and a searing heat cut through the denim of her dress as if she’d been physically touched. A tiny tremble rumbled through her system.

  “Yes. This is it.” She wouldn’t say it was the scene of the crime. She couldn’t label the new life growing inside as anything but wonderful. Whether or not Dylan or anyone else agreed. “In the bedroom, of course.”

  He shot another piercing look her way. “Right.”

  Dylan helped take her jacket off and then guided her to a seat on the sofa. She sat down without argument. He didn’t sit, though. Instead, he walked around the room, scanning the picture frames on her bookshelf, looking at trinkets, the furniture and all the surroundings with a new and insightful eye. Then he turned to her. “Mind if I peek into your bedroom? See if it jars my memory?”

  Oh, boy. This was awkward. But she understood the necessity. Things for Dylan would be so much easier if he could get those lost hours back. She nodded. “Just don’t look in my lingerie drawers.”

  He laughed, his somber eyes finally twinkling.

  He was gone only a minute before returning to her.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  He shook his head sadly. “No.”

  She understood his disappointment. All that she remembered from that night was a muscled body covering hers and the tender comfort his presence had given her. Afterward, she’d slipped into the tight cocoon of his arms and fallen into a drugged sleep. When she had woken up with the mother of all hangovers, Dylan was gone.

  That next day, the power outage was old news in most parts of the city. The lights had come back on and everything had returned to normal. For most people. And the shocking death of Roy Benjamin on the set of beloved actor Dylan McKay’s new film had usurped all the day’s headlines.

  Right now, she and Dylan were on even footing. Both were unsure of how that night had gone down. There was a chance Dylan would never get that time back. And her memory was fogged over and blurry at best. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was a long shot.”

  His smile didn’t budge the rest of his face. He turned his wrist and glanced at his watch, a gorgeous black-faced gold Movado. “It’s ten thirty. What time do you go to bed?”

  “Eleven.”

  He nodded and sat on the couch beside her.

  “Let me guess. You’re not leaving until I go to bed?”

  “I’d like to stay.”

  Crapola. How many women would kill to have that offer from Dylan McKay?

  “I’m just going to do some reading in bed before I turn in. You can leave now.”

  Dylan ran a hand down his face. “You’re trying to get rid of me.”

  “Only because I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m fine.”

  “Then I’ll go,” he said, standing up, leaving her gaze to follow the long length of his body as he straightened. “I’ll text you at eleven and see how you’re doing.”

  “My kind of guy,” she teased.

  His lips curved up. “You’re not going to prevent me from checking on you.”

  She rose, too, and amazed herself at her own stability, considering she’d fainted just a few hours ago. “I’ll call you in the morning. It’s a promise.”

  “Thanks,” he said, and she followed him to the door. When he turned to her, they were only a breath apart, him towering above her by six inches. The scent of raw power and lime emanated from his throat and lingered in her nostrils. His golden hair gleamed under the foyer light and his eyes, deadly and devastatingly blue, found hers. “Make an appointment with a doctor for next week. I’d like to go with you,” he said.

  It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he’d want to go with her, but Dylan escorting her to an obstetrician’s office would be big news if word got out. And there would be repercussions. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” he said immediately. “I’ll let you know my schedule.”

  He laced his hands with hers then and gave a little tug, bringing her closer. His beautiful mouth was only inches away. “I want you to move into my house, Emma. Think about it and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  Without hesitation his head came forward and his lips met with hers. The kiss was brief, but amazing and glorious. A glimpse of what could be. A tease. A temptation.

  And when she opened her eyes, he’d already turned away and was gone.

  Yes, yes, yes would’ve been her answer. If only he’d asked for the right reasons.

  But Dylan didn’t want her. He wanted her baby.

  And she wasn’t about to live her life unloved.

  Ever again.

  * * *

  Emma didn’t pick up a book to read. Instead, she grabbed the phone and speed-dialed Brooke’s number. She picked up on the first ring.

  “Hi, Brooke. It’s me, checking in.”

  “Emma, it’s late. Are you okay?”

  “Right now, I’m feeling fine. Did I wake you?”

  “Gosh no. I’m dead on my feet, but wide-awake. I’m done prepping for tomorrow. Rocky and Wendy are doing their share and we’re managing.”

  “That’s great news. I’ve been thinking about you all day. How was the silent auction?”

  “It went well. We had lots of bids and I’m guessing the charity made lots of money. I haven’t tallied it up yet. That comes later tonight.”

  “Do it in the morning, Brooke. You sound beat.”

  “I am, but in a good way.”

  Emma’s pangs of guilt resurfaced. Poor Brooke. The business side of things wasn’t her forte. She had a creative streak a mile long and Pinterest could learn a few things from her when it came to party planning. But anything with numbers, and Brooke was at a complete loss.

  “So, no snags for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was the celebrity golf tournament, the golf widow’s luncheon and the formal Give a Dollar or a Thousand Dinner and raffle. All the celebrities golfing would attend the dinner. Their appearance made for heftier donations, but they came with a high price for their time. They were accustomed to and expected fabulous cuisine and service, so this task was even more daunting.

  “Nope, not a one.”

  Emma breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

  “How are things with you?” Brooke questioned her in a softer tone that left no room for doubt what she was really getting at.

  “You guilted Dylan into checking on me.”

  “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, honey, but I’m worried about you. So, you spent time with him tonight?”

  “Yes, and I...well...he knows my situation now.”

  “You told him!”

  Her face scrunched up at her friend’s enthusiasm. “Don’t sound so happy. He’s in as much shock as I am.”

  “But at least he knows the truth.”

  “Yeah, but nothing jarred his memory.”

  “That’s not really the point. You can’t worry about the past. At least you’ll move forward toward the future.”

  Normally, she told Brooke everything, but tonight wasn’t the night to tell her about Dylan’s offer. She wasn’t about to move into his mansion. And if Brooke knew, she’d probably side with her brother on this. Two McKays would be too hard to fight. “Yeah, I g
uess.” She waited a beat. “I’m glad things went well tonight. And I know tomorrow will be amazing. You should hit the sack. That’s what I’m going to do. Love you, Brooke.”

  “Love you, too. Sleep well.”

  Emma hung up the phone and undressed, slipping out of her street clothes and into her pajamas. She climbed into bed, shut off the table lamp and snuggled her face deep into her cushy pillow. Her body sank into the mattress and she sighed out loud. Nothing was better than a comfy bed after a rough day. But just as she closed her eyes, Dylan’s image popped into her head.

  She owed him a text.

  Stretching her arm out, she fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, punched in his number and typed out her text.

  I’m tucked in and feeling well. Good night.

  Short and sweet. It’d been a long time since she’d had to answer to anyone. Derek Purdy, the man she now thought of as The Jerk, had cured her of that in her sophomore year of college. She hated even thinking of him anymore. He didn’t deserve another second of her time.

  But Dylan, on the other hand, would be in her life forever now.

  He was no jerk, and from now on they would have to answer to each other.

  For the baby’s sake.

  Five

  “Rolling,” the first assistant director called out as Dylan stood on his mark on the Stage One Studios back lot. The cast and crew of Resurrection SEALs became quiet. They were on the same dirt road where Roy had died and where Dylan had been hit with shrapnel. If being here didn’t jog his memory, nothing would. Dylan tried to focus. He was a professional, and the crew had worked long hours this morning prepping this scene. The director called, “Action,” and Dylan went into performance mode, delivering his lines. He stumbled once, mixing up the words, and looked to the script supervisor for his line.

  Marcy offered it. “Whether or not you give me those papers, Joe, the colonel is going to hear about this.”

  They reshot the scene several times and Dylan went through the paces for coverage and tights on his face before his work was done. The director, Gabe Novotny, walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “That first scene had to be hard on you. But you’re through it now. How does it feel?”