Emma had had dibs on him since forever. Was she going to give him up without a fight? Shockingly, her answer was a flat-out no. She couldn’t let Dylan get away. Jealousy aside, she wasn’t going to hand her baby’s father over to the wrong woman. Dylan had asked her, Emma Rae Bloom, to marry him, something he hadn’t done since Renee had torn his heart to shreds. And now, Emma was beginning to see a life with him and their baby. So what was her problem? Why hadn’t she jumped at his proposal last night? Why was she being so darn hardheaded?
To his credit, Dylan backed away from Callista instantly, wriggling out of her clutches before she could kiss him again. He didn’t see Emma standing there, so there was no pretense for her sake. He really was rejecting the woman.
“I can’t be your date, Callista,” she heard him say.
Emma breathed a big sigh of relief.
“Why?” She approached him again, a question in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
Emma gulped air loudly, deliberately. She’d heard enough. Both heads turned in her direction. Callista’s mouth twisted in annoyance and Dylan, God love him, appeared truly relieved to see her. He put his arm out, reaching for Emma’s hand, much to the other woman’s horror, and Emma floated over to him and took it.
He smiled at her, and before he could say anything, Emma announced, “Dylan is my fiancé, Callista. I’m going to marry him.”
Callista’s mouth dropped open. Clearly stunned, she darted glances from Emma to Dylan and back again. And then her gaze shot like a laser beam down to Emma’s slightly bulging belly. She was sharp, Emma had to give her that. “You’re pregnant.”
Dylan pulled her closer in, winding his arm around her waist in a show of support. “I’m sorry, Callista, but that’s not an issue here. I was going to tell you about Emma and me.”
“When, at my birthday party? The one she’s supposed to plan and execute?”
Dylan’s eyes never wavered. He was such a good actor. As far as she knew, Dylan had no knowledge of that latest development. “Under the circumstances, that’s not going to happen now. I hope we can still be friendly, Callista. We’ve known each other a long time.”
Callista ignored Emma once again, speaking to Dylan as if she wasn’t standing there, in his embrace. “You can’t be serious, Dylan. You’re going to marry her?”
“Of course I’m serious. When have you known me not to be?”
“But...but...”
Emma stifled a giggle. She’d never seen Callista speechless before.
And finally, “You cheated on me with her!”
Dylan’s brows gathered; his eyes grew dark and dangerous. “Don’t go there, Callista. I never cheated on a woman in my life. We were on-again, off-again, and before my accident we were definitely off. Big-time off. And you know it.”
Callista made a show of grabbing her purse and stomping away. Before exiting the room, she swiveled around and glared at Emma. “It’ll never last. He’s just doing this for the kid. Wait and see.”
The front door slammed shut behind her.
Neither of them moved.
Seconds ticked by.
God, all of Emma’s fears had come full circle in Callista’s venomous declaration. Those three sentences revealed Emma’s innermost doubts. A tremor ran through her. Could she do this? Could she really marry Dylan?
And then Dylan faced her, the darkness of his expression evaporating into something hopeful and sweet. His eyes gleamed and the way he held on to her as if she was precious to him, as if he was truly happy, convinced her to stay the course. She’d made up her mind and couldn’t bear losing Dylan. If they had a chance at a future together, she was going to take it.
“You’re really going to marry me? You weren’t just saying that?” he asked.
“It wasn’t the perfect way to tell you, but yes. I’m going to marry you.”
His brilliant smile warmed all the cold places that threatened her happiness. “Good. Okay. Good. The sooner the better.”
He kissed her then, and all of her doubts flittered away on the breeze. She would give herself up to him now. She wouldn’t hold back. She was all in, and she would think only positive thoughts from now on.
After a long embrace, Dylan shook his head. “I’m sorry about that scene with Callista. I didn’t know she was coming over.”
“She was very upset, Dylan.”
“She’s dramatic and only upset because she didn’t get her way. In her heart, she had to know we were over. But the truth is, I never cheated on her with you or anyone. It’s important that you believe me.”
“I do,” she said. These past few weeks with Dylan had shown her what kind of a man he truly was. The tabloids liked to paint a less-than-rosy picture of celebrities, but Emma didn’t and wouldn’t believe a word of it about Dylan McKay. She’d walked in on Dylan rebuffing Callista’s advances and that alone was proof enough for her. She could place her faith in Dylan.
She had to.
He was going to be her husband.
Eight
Warm Pacific gusts lifted her wedding veil off her shoulders as she stood on the steps of Adam Chase’s palatial oceanside home, waiting for her cue to walk down an aisle laden with red rose petals. They, too, blew in the breeze in sweeping patterns that colored the pathway in a natural special effect.
She looked out to the small cluster of friends and family in attendance, no more than thirty strong. Their secluded little wedding ceremony was about to begin. Dylan’s mother was here, and Brooke, of course, was her maid of honor. She’d helped Emma into her ivory, Cinderella-style wedding dress. Wendy and Rocky were here, her part-timers who’d actually become dear friends. Dylan’s agent and manager attended as well as his closest neighbors—Adam Chase, his wife, Mia, and their adorable baby, Rose, seated next to Jessica and her country superstar husband, Zane Williams.
It had been Adam’s idea to hold the wedding here, the reclusive architect offering a place for their secretive ceremony away from any paparazzi who might’ve gotten wind of their engagement. To their surprise, Callista hadn’t spread any ugly gossip as yet and Dylan had insisted on marrying quickly. Parties-To-Go had immediately been fired from holding Callista’s big birthday event, much to Brooke’s glee. Ironically, Dylan’s hectic work schedule only allowed them to get married on the very same day.
The music began, the traditional “Wedding March” played by a string quartet bringing tears to Emma’s eyes. Her foster parents had declined the invitation to attend, claiming illness—aka too much alcohol—so Emma began her trek down the aisle on her own, the way she’d always done things.
She didn’t mind, though, because waiting for her at the end of the white aisle, dressed in a stunning black tuxedo, his blond hair spiky, his blue eyes twinkling, was the man she’d always dreamed about marrying, Dylan McKay. As she held her bouquet of delicate snowflake-white lilies and baby red roses, beautiful emotions carried her toward him, each step a commitment to making their marriage work, to having the family she never thought she’d ever have.
The small group of guests stood as she flowed past them toward Dylan, her eyes straight ahead. When she reached him, he took her arm and led her to the minister and the flowered, latticed canopy that would be their altar. There, they spoke their vows of commitment and devotion.
For only a minute she was saddened that no words of actual love were spoken. Wasn’t it odd, a union taking place where neither of the participants spoke of undying love and devotion?
But once they were declared man and wife, Dylan cupped her face and kissed her with enough passion to wipe out any feelings of sadness. From this day forward...she would look only to the future. She’d promised. And so had he.
“Family and friends,” the minister said, “I give you Mr. and Mrs. Dylan McKay.”
As they turned to face their
guests, applause broke out.
“Hello, Mrs. McKay,” Dylan said, kissing her again.
“Dylan, I hardly believe this is real.”
“It’s real.” It was the last thing he said to her before they were separated and the guests bombarded each of them with congratulations.
Brooke ran over to Emma and hugged her so tight, her veil tilted to one side of her head. Brooke stomped her feet up and down several times, her joy overflowing. “I can’t believe you’re my sister now! I mean we always were like sisters, but now you’re truly family. This is the best. The very best. Oh, here, let me fix your veil. My duty as your maid of honor.”
She refastened the veil just as Royce walked up. “Congratulations, Emma.”
“Thank you, Royce. It’s great to finally meet you.”
“Same here. And on such a special day. I feel honored to be invited.”
“I’m glad you’re here. Brooke looks great, doesn’t she?”
Royce glanced at his date. Brooke was wearing a red halter gown, tastefully decorated with sequins along the bodice. She’d promised she wouldn’t wear black, and when they’d shopped and she’d tried this one on, both knew it was perfect for her. Her gorgeous long dark hair hung in tight curls down her back and complemented the dress. “Yes, she does.”
“Have you met Dylan yet?”
“No,” Royce said. “But I’m looking forward to it.”
“He’s scared,” Brooke said, grinning. “Meeting my famous big brother isn’t in his wheelhouse. Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Well...uh...I must admit, he’s such a big star, I’m a little intimidated.”
“Don’t be. Dylan’s a good guy,” Emma said. “He’s harmless.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“I keep telling him that, too,” Brooke said. “But you, Emma, are the beautiful one. You look like the happiest bride in the world, and that dress...well, you destroy in it.”
Emma laughed. “Thanks, I think.”
“You do look very pretty, Emma,” Royce said.
“And I agree.” Dylan came from out of nowhere to take her hand. “You look gorgeous today, Em. My beautiful bride.” He kissed her cheek and played with a curl hanging down from her upswept hair.
Brooke wasted no time introducing Dylan to her boyfriend. The two men talked for a few minutes and Brooke seemed immensely happy that they seemed to be getting along.
Just a few minutes later, Dylan’s mother walked into their circle and took Emma aside. “I’ve always thought of you as my second daughter, Emma, you know that. You’ve been part of our family since the first day Brooke brought you over to our house, but I can’t even begin to tell you how happy I am that you and Dylan are married.” Katherine McKay hugged her tight, just as she had when Emma was a kid. Growing up, Emma was made to feel welcome and accepted, not by her own foster parents, but by the McKay family. “I know you’re going to be a wonderful wife and mother to my first grandchild,” Katherine continued, her gracious smile widening. “I am very excited about the baby, in case you can’t tell. If you ever need help or advice, please promise you’ll ask.”
“I promise, Mrs. McKay.”
“I’d be honored if you called me Mom.”
Tears rushed into Emma eyes. The notion was so sweet and exactly what she needed to hear. “I will, from now on.”
“That’s good, honey.” Katherine kissed her cheek and winked. “Now, I have to congratulate my son. He’s made a wise choice.”
After pictures were taken and the cocktail hour was observed, dinner was served on the veranda. A stone fireplace crackled and popped, adding ambience to an already elegant day. The wedding had been small, but with attention to detail. Leave it to Brooke to make all the last-minute arrangements. She was a dynamo, and Dylan spared no expense. It was a dream wedding as far as Emma was concerned.
As a disc jockey started setting up, Adam Chase, Dylan’s best man, gave a toast. “To my neighbor and good friend Dylan,” he said, holding up a flute of champagne. “May you enjoy the very same kind of happiness that I have found in Mia and my daughter, Rose. I’ll admit it takes a very special young woman to get Dylan to the altar. He’s avoided it for too many years, so to Emma, for making an honest man out of Dylan.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd and cheers went up. Everyone but Emma sipped champagne. She opted for sparkling cider and enjoyed it down to the last drop. Dylan held her hand and nodded to Zane. To her surprise, the country crooner slid a chair over to the front of the veranda near the steps, took up his guitar and sat down. “If you all don’t mind, I’d like to dedicate this song to my friend Dylan and his new bride, Emma. It’s called ‘This Stubborn Heart of Mine.’ Dylan, feel free to dance this first dance with your wife. And no, this song wasn’t written with you in mind, my friend, but if the shoe fits.”
Another round of laughter hummed through the guests seated at their tables.
Dylan pulled Emma out onto the dance floor. “May I have this dance, sweetheart?”
And as Zane sang a sweet, soulful ballad, Dylan took her into his arms and twirled her around and around, his moves graceful and smooth. Emma was happier than she’d ever been, but still the notion of getting married to the most eligible bachelor on the planet at a beachfront mansion and having her own personal country superstar dedicate a song to her was surreal.
“You’re quiet,” Dylan said halfway through the dance.
“I’m...taking it all in. I’m not used to this much...”
“Attention?”
“Everything. It’s...kind of perfect.”
Dylan hugged her close as the song came to an end, whispering in her ear, “Kind of perfect? Just wait until tonight.”
Emma snapped her head up, gazing into his incredibly seductive, amazingly clear blue eyes.
Maybe this marriage-to-Dylan thing would work out after all.
* * *
The light of a dozen candles twinkled all around Dylan’s master bedroom, but nothing was brighter than the wedding ring he’d put on her finger today. The brilliance of the oval diamond surrounded by perfect smaller diamonds had stunned her into tears. The sweet scent of roses flavored the air, and her bouquet and flowers from the ceremony decorated the room as well, reminding her, as if she could forget, that Dylan was now her husband.
He’d succeeded in making her wedding day a fantasy come true. Now she faced him still wearing her wedding gown, feeling very much like Cinderella. Handsome in his tux, he gazed upon her, his mouth lifted in a smile. “Are you ready for the rest of our life?”
“Oh, yes.”
He took her hands in his. “You were a beautiful bride today, Emma, but now it’s time to take this dress off and make you my wife.”
Emma’s body sang from his words and the anticipation of what the night would bring. “I’m ready.”
She stood still as Dylan circled around her. He lifted the tiara from her head, the veil having long ago been removed. Cool air struck her back as he unfastened one tiny button after another. Her body warmed with each flick of his finger as he skimmed her skin. Once done, he spread the satiny material off her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. A prickling feeling erupted there and followed the path of his hands as they moved the dress down her body. His gentle touch unleashed something wild in her, even as he took his time and took care with her dress. She stepped out of it and he gathered it up and set it over a chair. She stood before him in white lace panties, and as he approached her with fire in his eyes, he undid his bow tie, shed his white shirt and unbuckled his belt.
Pangs of impatient longing stormed her body. They’d gone the old-fashioned route and hadn’t slept with each other since the day she’d agreed to become his wife. Now all that pent-up hunger was ready to explode and she couldn’t remember ever feeling this way before.
Not even on that first night, when she’d dragged Dylan on top of her during the blackout and they’d made reckless love. She knew the difference now. She understood why it seemed so different, answering a nagging question that had plagued her foggy memory. That time, she’d been desperate, eager to have a friend banish her fears. But this time, there was no desperation, only intense passion and true desire, and for her...love.
Dylan went down on his knees, caressed her rounded belly and placed a kiss there. His hands wound around to her butt. Holding her firm, he rested his head on her stomach, and after few reverent seconds, he rose and drew her close in his arms. “Welcome home, Emma,” he whispered over her mouth. He lifted her up carefully and swung her around once. “This will have to take the place of carrying you over the threshold.”
He laid her down on the bed.
“Thresholds are overrated,” she whispered, reaching for him.
Dylan came to her then, climbing into the bed beside her. He leaned over and kissed her again and again until her head swam, her body ached and every nerve tingled. He cupped her breasts and made love to them with his mouth. Her hips swung up, her back bowing, the straining, pink peaks of her nipples sensitized and gloriously begging for more.
She wound her arms around his neck and caressed his shoulders, her palms flat against the breadth and strength of him, solid and sure and smooth. Her fingers played in the short blond spikes of hair, the military cut grown out some, and for the first time, she could say she possessed him as much as he possessed her.
“Ah,” she cooed as his tongue licked at her and her entire body strained.
She had to touch more of him, to give as much as she was receiving.
She rolled him away and came up over him, kissing his lips and flattening her palms over his chest. His skin sizzled and she absorbed the heat, gloried in the rapid heartbeats nearly exploding from his chest. She kissed every part of it and a groan escaped his lips when she wandered down and hovered around his navel. His body pulsed, his breath caught. She wouldn’t deny him what he wanted. She slipped her hand under his waistband and met with raw, powerful, hot silk.
One Secret Night, One Secret Baby Page 13
