“I will soon enough. But you’re not safely inside yet.” His hand glided over hers to snare the key from her fingers. “Here, let me.”
She nearly jumped from the contact and her hand opened. When he took the key, she moved away from the door and allowed him to insert it into the lock. With a twist, the door clicked open.
“Thanks again,” she said breathlessly, again pressing her back to the door.
He leaned in so close she caught the slight scent of musky aftershave, a heady mixture that stirred all of her erotic senses. Oh, boy, she was in trouble.
She pressed her head against the door, backing away from him and staring at his lips that were coming way too close. “What are you doing?”
“I’m giving you a proper thank-you, sweetheart.”
“The eggplant was thanks—”
And then his mouth came down on hers. Not roughly or aggressively, but not with tender persuasion, either. It was perfectly balanced, a kiss that could mean a dozen things that were not necessarily sexual. Yet as she raised her hands to push at his chest, he deepened the kiss, giving it more texture and taste, and the balance she relied on was starting to disappear. Her arms fell to her sides; there would be no shove-off-buddy move on her part. How could she think of ending something so amazing?
His hand came up beside her head, his palm flat against the door, and the darn thing moved, making her clumsily back up a step, then two. He followed her, of course, his lips still locked with hers, and the next thing she knew they were inside her dark apartment and breathing heavily. Dylan broke the kiss momentarily to guide her backward some more and then kick the door shut with his foot.
“Imagine that,” he whispered. “We’re inside your apartment.”
“Uh-huh” was her brilliant comeback. She was too enthralled with his mouth, his tongue and the wonderful way he used them on her to think straight.
And then she felt his hand on her belly. Only someone who knew her intimately would notice the slight bulge above her waist. His fingers splayed out, encircling the whole of her stomach, and a throaty sound emanated from deep within his chest. “I’ve wanted to touch you here, Em. It’s okay, isn’t it?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“I know it’s not ideal, but, Emma, if there was ever a woman to carry my child, of all the women I know, all that I’ve been with, I’m glad it’s you.”
There was a compliment in there somewhere. Emma understood what he meant, but there were still issues, lots and lots of issues. She pulled away from him. “I’ll turn on a light.”
Before she was out of his reach, he was gripping her wrist and tugging her back to him. She landed smack against his chest and gazed up at his face, which was steeped in shadows. “Don’t, Emma. You’re safe with me. Don’t be afraid.”
She was afraid. Of where this was leading. “What do you want, Dylan?” she asked softly and heard the defeat in her voice. It was as if she couldn’t compete, couldn’t deny him, couldn’t defend against him.
“Honestly, I don’t know. You’re good for me, Em. I like who I am when I’m with you. And I don’t want to leave, not just yet.”
Something almost desperate in his voice kept her rooted to the spot. Then he touched her, a light brush of his fingers feathering her face, a caress she had always dreamed about. And he kissed her again, tenderly and slowly, like a man treasuring a sacred prize. The prize, she knew, wasn’t her, but the baby. She got that. She already felt the same way about the life growing inside her. She didn’t blame the child for her bouts of sickness or regret the mere fact that the baby existed at all. Yet something was off. His kisses were new to her. His touch exciting and not familiar in the way she’d thought they’d be. They’d done this before, kissing and intimately touching when they conceived the baby, but she didn’t remember...him.
“Dylan,” she said softly, “we’re friends.”
“We could be more.”
He nibbled on her lower lip. A blast of heat spiraled down to her belly and she closed her eyes, absorbing the pleasant torment while trying to contain the burning inferno that was building, building. Dylan’s heat became her heat and she hardly noticed as they moved farther into her room, until Dylan was sitting on her sofa and she was being yanked down onto his lap.
His tongue danced with hers as he pressed her against the sofa cushions. His lips found her forehead, her cheeks, her chin, and then moved leisurely back to her waiting mouth. She ached for him and it was almost useless to try to fight the feeling. In her teenage imaginings, before his fame and fortune, Dylan had always been hers. She caved to those feelings now and moaned when his hand slipped under her dress and climbed her thigh, inching toward the part of her body that ached for him the most.
But Dylan bypassed that spot and moved his hand farther up to lay claim once again to her belly. He stroked her there gently and she caught a glimpse of the top of his head as he bestowed a loving kiss right above her navel over the spot where their baby resided.
She melted in that moment. Her eyes filled with tears. She bit her lower lip to keep from making a silly, revealing sound. But her heart was involved, now more than ever before. And it pained her in ways that she’d never dreamed possible.
“Dylan,” she whispered.
He lifted his head and their gazes locked in the shadows. An unwavering gleam in his eyes spoke of the love he already had for his baby. He smiled. Dread pierced her stomach. She didn’t have ammunition to fight Dylan when he was like this.
The next thing she knew, his hand was on her thigh again, moving up and down, rubbing away her apprehension and bringing on a new kind of tension. “You’re soft, Emma. Everywhere.”
Oh, God, but he wasn’t. It was evident from the press of his groin to her hip. They were treading dangerous ground and she was too enthralled to put a stop to it.
He brought his mouth to hers again and again, his hand working magic over her throat, her shoulders, the steep slope of her breasts. His fingertips grazed her nipples and she jumped, sensitive and achy.
A groan rumbled from the depths of his chest and he moved more steadily over her, cupping her breast through the material of her dress, trailing hot moist kisses along her collarbones. Everything was on fire, burning, burning. The heat was combustible and then...and then...
The phone rang.
Her house line was ringing. It was used for emergencies, and only a handful of people had the number. The answering machine picked up and Brooke’s voice was on the other end.
“It’s me, Em. I’m looking for Dylan. Neither one of you are picking up your cell and it’s sort of important. Is he there by any chance?”
Dylan immediately sat upright.
Emma gave him a nod and bounded up, adjusting her lopsided halter as she dashed to turn on a light and pick up the phone on the kitchen wall. “Hi,” she said, breathless.
“Hi,” Brooke said, drawing out the word. “Am I disturbing something?”
“No, no. We were just coming in from dinner. Dylan dropped me off. He’s still here. Let me get him,” she said. But there was no need. He was already behind her, his hands on her waist, planting a kiss on her shoulder as though they were a real couple, before he took the phone. “Hi, sis.”
Emma walked out of the room to give him privacy, but her apartment had few walls and she could still see him and hear his voice. Her curiosity wouldn’t allow her to turn away. “Renee?” He sighed heavily and after a few seconds said, “Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Then he ended the call.
Dylan squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the back of his neck before turning to Emma. Their gazes locked and he moved toward her and grasped her hands. “I have to go. But I want you to promise you’ll think about moving in with me. We could have a lot more nights like tonight. I want you with me, honey.”
It was too much,
too soon, and her head was still reeling from how close they’d come to making love. Inhaling a shaky breath, she shook her head. “I can’t promise you that, Dylan. I’m not ready to make that kind of move.”
He nodded and worry lines formed around his eyes. “Okay, but I’d like to see you again. Soon.”
“Like a date?”
“Yeah,” he said, his face brightening as if he was really warming to the idea. “I think we’ll take one step at a time. Dating first. Can you manage that?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
“Exclusively?”
Exclusive with Dylan McKay! She liked the sound of that. Not that she’d ever had a situation where she was dating two men at the same time. “Exclusively.”
Seeming satisfied, he gave her a quick, chaste kiss goodbye and hurried away.
Leaving Emma to wonder about his ex Renee and what that phone call was all about.
Was she the exception to Dylan’s rules of exclusivity?
Six
Dylan sat down at his desk as morning breezes blew in through the window, the fresh ocean air a jolt stronger than caffeine to rouse him out of his sleep haze. Each morning he’d scan his mind, hoping to get a glimpse of the time he’d lost, hoping his memory would be restored. It wasn’t happening today.
He opened the drawer, pulled out his checkbook and wrote out a check for a larger sum of money than he’d normally sent Renee over this past year. The monthly checks weren’t a fortune, but enough to help her get by and make sure her two children were fed, housed and clothed. She was in worse shape than a single mother. She had a lousy ex-husband who threatened to take her kids away from her on a regular basis and Renee needed to supplement her meager earnings as a waitress in order to provide for her family.
She seemed to be in a constant state of crisis.
Dylan had long ago forgiven Renee for breaking his heart. But the fault wasn’t just Renee’s. He’d allowed himself to be persuaded to run away with her. He’d been crazy in love, young and impulsive, and so willing to do whatever Renee wanted to keep her happy. They’d been in a theatre production together in high school and had lofty notions of success. Later, at the age of nineteen, she’d convinced him to move to Los Angeles to pursue an acting career. He’d gone with her with eyes wide-open, understanding the risk, but when his success didn’t come fast enough for her and Renee’s so-called contacts in LA had dried up, her disappointment was hard to live with.
Then one day, he’d found her in the arms of another man, a director of a small theatre, an older man with a colossal ego who’d convinced her they were one step away from fame. That hadn’t happened and she’d made one bad decision after another. While Dylan’s career had finally launched through patience and perseverance, she’d given up on her dreams, becoming cynical and bitter, and wound up marrying someone who worked in the industry. Dylan had lost touch with her completely until last year when she’d reached out to his sister and asked if she could put her in touch with Dylan.
It was a pained conversation when they’d spoken, but Renee had touched something deep and tender in Dylan’s heart as he remembered the young, vivacious girl she’d once been. She’d pleaded with him for forgiveness and he gave it willingly. She’d never once asked him for a handout, but after learning about her situation with an alcoholic, abusive ex-husband and hating the thought of her kids suffering, he’d started sending her checks.
“Knock, knock.”
His head snapped up and he found Brooke dressed in a stretchy blue workout outfit standing at the threshold of his half-opened door. He gave her an immediate smile. “Hey, kiddo. Come in.”
Once a week, he and Brooke exercised together in his gym on the second floor that overlooked the Pacific Ocean.
“Morning, bro. Ready for a workout?”
“Just about.” He placed the check in an envelope and wrote out Renee’s name on the front before sealing it. “You don’t have to do this, Brooke. I can mail it.”
“It’s not a problem, Dylan. I know where Renee lives.”
“It’s half an hour out of town.”
“Listen, I’m no fan of Renee’s, but if she needs this pronto for her kids, then it’s no big deal for me to put the check in her mailbox. This way, she’ll have it earlier.”
Dylan ran his hand along his chin. “Her daughter needs corrective eye surgery. She’s in a panic about it.”
“It’s a good thing you’re doing,” Brooke said.
He didn’t do it for accolades and no one besides his sister knew about this. Renee was part of his past, a onetime friend and lover. She needed help. Wouldn’t he be a hypocrite to volunteer to help other charities and not help someone he knew personally who was in need? Why not give her a hand up?
“You have a big heart,” his sister said.
“I can afford to.”
“Yes, but she hurt you badly and I don’t forgive as easily as you do.”
“I didn’t forgive her for a long time.”
“But eventually you did. And she scarred you, Dylan. It was a betrayal of the worst kind.”
“I’m hardly crying over it anymore.”
But he’d lost his faith, and trust didn’t come easily for him. He’d once believed in love, but not so much anymore. He hadn’t come close to feeling anything like it since his last happy day with Renee. And then a thought rushed in and Emma’s face appeared in his mind. He’d always liked Emma, and she was, after all, the mother of his child. Dating her was a means to an end. He was going to marry her and give the baby his name. At least he trusted her. As a friend.
Brooke took the check and plopped it into her wide canvas tote. “Let’s go burn some calories.”
An hour later, Brooke sipped water from a cold bottle, a workout towel hanging around her neck. “Inspiring as always,” she said, glancing out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the low-lying clouds beginning to lift. It was going to be a blue-sky day.
Dylan set down his weights and sopped his face with his towel. “It’s not half bad.”
“You ready to talk to me about Emma?”
“Emma?” He sat down on a workout bench, stretched his legs out fully and downed half a bottle of water in one gulp. “What about Emma?”
She snapped her towel against his forearm. The painless rap and smirk on her lips had him grinning.
“Duh...” Brooke sat down next to him. “What’s going on between you two?”
“Nosy, aren’t you?”
“Concerned. I love you both.”
Dylan flashed to the last night he’d been with Emma and the surprising, explosive way she’d responded to him. He’d taken liberties, but none that she hadn’t wanted, and the feel of her skin, so soft and creamy smooth, the taste of her lips and plush fullness of her body against his, had him thinking of her many times since then. “I’ve asked her to move in with me, Brooke. She said no.”
“You can’t blame her for that,” Brooke said. “She’s struggling with all this, too. And you know her history. She’s—”
“Stubborn?”
“Independent is a better word. And just because you’re a celebrity doesn’t mean every woman on the planet wants to live with you.”
“I’m not asking every woman on the planet, Brooke. I’m asking the woman who’s carrying my child.”
“I know,” she said more softly. “Give Emma some time, bro.”
“I’m not pressuring her.”
“Aren’t you?”
“We’re dating.”
Brooke laughed. “Really? Like, in flowers and candy and malt shop hookups?”
His sister could be a pain in the ass sometimes. “Malt shop? I hadn’t thought of that. Besides, little sis, isn’t that what you’re doing with Royce?”
Brooke’s smile christened her flush
ed face. “Royce and I are much more sophisticated than that. We do art shows and book festivals and—”
“Intellectual stuff, huh?”
“Yeah, so far. We’re still in the getting-to-know-each-other stage.”
“Good, take it slow.”
“Says the man who just asked a woman he’d never dated to move in with him.”
“You’re forgetting...that we—”
“Made a baby? Well, seeing as neither one of you recall much of that night, I say it’s good you’re starting out by dating. S...L...O...W and steady wins the race.”
Dylan wasn’t going to take it slow with Emma. No way. But Brooke didn’t need to know that. She got defensive about Emma, and normally he loved that about his sister. She was loyal to her friends, but this one time, there was just too much at stake for Dylan to back off. He wouldn’t give Emma a chance to run scared or go all independent feminist on him. He didn’t want his child being raised in a disjointed home.
He had the means to provide a good life for both Emma and the baby. And the sooner she realized that, the better.
* * *
Emma tossed a kernel of popcorn into her mouth and leaned back in her maroon leather recliner seat, one of twenty in Dylan’s private screening room. “I must admit, when you said you were taking me to the movies, I wondered how you would pull that off. I mean, it’s not as if you can simply walk into a movie theater and not get noticed.”
“Comes with the territory I’m afraid. Life has changed for me, but I’m not one of those people who complain about their fame. I knew what I was getting into when I started in this business. If I was lucky enough to succeed, then I wasn’t going to cry about not having anonymity. I have a recognizable face, so I’ve had to alter a few things in my life.”
“Like not being able to pop into a grocery store or travel unnoticed or window-shop?”
“Or take my date to a movie,” Dylan added.
Emma laughed. “But you adapt very nicely.”
“I’m glad you think so. So, what movie would you like to see? Chiller, thriller, Western, comedy, romance?”
One Secret Night, One Secret Baby Page 9
