The Playboy's Baby

by Stewart, JM

  He added soap to the dispenser, closed the door, and turned the machine on. Leaning back against the counter, he let out a heavy sigh. “Came home from the bar early one night and found her in bed with one of my bartenders.”

  He’d never forget that day. Walking into the house to the sounds of her laughter, mingling with a male voice he instantly recognized. He followed the voices to the bedroom. They were beneath the covers, naked and wrapped around each other.

  Emma laid a hand against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Dillon resisted the urge to take her hands and pull her closer, to lose himself in the disturbing peace he found the few times he’d gotten to hold her. Instead, he lifted a shoulder.

  “Live and learn.” He’d never make that mistake again. He eyed Emma. Time to turn the tables on Little Miss Honesty. “So, do you share your sister’s sentiment on men?”

  Emma folded her arms and met his challenge head-on. “Depends on the man.”

  “You obviously don’t trust me.”

  She laughed. “With all the trouble you and Janey got into over the years, can you blame me?” She darted a glance at him, eyes glittering with amusement. “You’re a spoiled brat, Dillon. Always were.”

  He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped. She had him there. “Was, Em. Was. I’ve grown up a little since the last time you saw me.”

  “You sure have.” Frozen in front of him, Emma stared up at him like a deer caught in the headlights—wide-eyed and just this side of stunned. She searched his face, something moving in the depth of her eyes. So subtle Dillon wasn’t entirely sure he saw it. Like the beginnings of a spark, an ember that flared to life and made him wonder what ran through her mind. If that weren’t enough torment, her tongue flicked out and slid over her bottom lip.

  Dillon couldn’t stop himself from following the movement. How many times growing up had he thought about tasting that mouth? Of running his tongue along that very same lip? Looking up and meeting her gaze again, he saw it. A subtle shift, an awareness that sparked between them. Subtle, but there all the same. Everything inside of him tightened in response. Every single one of those boyhood fantasies flooded his mind like a tidal wave.

  Firmly reminding himself Emma was Janey’s big sister and he had no business touching her, Dillon stuffed his hands into his pockets and forced his mind to focus on something else. “So, fair’s fair. What’s your story? Janey said you don’t date.”

  Emma froze beside him. Before his eyes, a wall went up between them. Her easy smile melted and her back stiffened, her hands clenching. Just when he thought she wouldn’t answer, she averted her gaze to the floor and folded her arms across her chest. “I do date. Just not much.”

  “Why not?”

  Emma might be a bit uptight, but she was gorgeous. He wouldn’t expect she had much trouble in the dating department.

  “I’m not Janey. It’s been my experience most men only want one thing. That was okay with her, but I’m nobody’s good time.” Despite the venom in the statement and the stiff way she held herself, a lost, vulnerable look took over her features. Emma stared out in front of her, eyes shifting, like a memory played through her mind.

  Her statement screamed of a bad experience. Dillon had the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her, to soothe whatever wound lay beneath that armor.

  A heartbeat later, Emma shut it all off. She drew up straight and pushed away from the counter, crossing the kitchen to where Annie lay sound asleep in her car seat. “We should go get my things now. I need to put her to bed.”

  Chapter Four

  They made it back to the house in an hour. Emma stood beside Dillon in the darkened guest bedroom, both staring down into the portable crib. Annie had fallen asleep minutes ago, but so far, neither of them spoke or moved. She tried to summon the courage to tell him what she needed to, what couldn’t be put off any longer.

  An awkward awareness of him developed on the drive over. Dillon helping her pack and move her belongings felt oddly intimate. It left her overly aware of the change between them. Overly aware that she was a woman and he was a man. Something she hadn’t thought about in eight years, she was sure she’d firmly set aside. Yet there it was, rising all over again. She watched the way his muscles bunched and tightened when he moved, helping her pack the portable crib and carry it all out to his car. All the while the memory of those muscles against her when he held her in his arms at the club ripened in her mind. Her cheek pressed to the solid wall of his chest…

  So much that making decent conversation on the drive back to his house became near impossible. The ride was too silent, the air inside his SUV practically sizzling with tension.

  She didn’t appear to be alone in that feeling either. When she and Dillon set up the portable crib in the guest bedroom, they moved with an awkward awareness of each other. He held himself stiff, those dark eyes forever darting to her, somber and wary, telling her without words he felt the tension too. Given their history, it wasn’t only odd for her to be spending the night in his house, but unusual for the two of them to be behaving like parents. Together.

  She didn’t quite know what to say to him, how to form the words. Her heart beat like it wanted to escape her chest, and a permanent knot rooted in the pit of her stomach. Somehow, over the years, Janey’s obnoxious best friend had become a man. Damned if her body wasn’t responding full force to him. No matter how much she shouldn’t be noticing.

  “We can go get a full-sized crib tomorrow.” Dillon’s voice drifted through the darkness barely above a whisper.

  She turned to look at him. Moonlight streamed in through the window in bright streaks against his back, illuminating the room behind him, casting his face in shadows. “If you like.”

  “I would.” Dillon looked over at her. “Are you tired? Should I leave you to sleep?”

  Emma shook her head. She was too nervous to sleep. The entire house screamed of Dillon. From the pictures of his family that covered his walls, to the clean, masculine lines of the furniture—expensive-looking pieces, done in lush fabrics and richly textured, highly polished wood. A subtle hint of the cologne he wore, warm and spicy, permeated the air, so every time she inhaled, her lungs filled with the scent of him. A scent so familiar, yet its effect so different. The scent of a man.

  All things some part of her insisted she shouldn’t notice about him, but suddenly she couldn’t seem to help herself. Dillon was a man. So far the only one who made her feel safe when his arms closed around her. She kept expecting to find that irresponsible kid she grew up with, the one who happily got into trouble with her little sister. Now, he proved beyond a doubt he wasn’t that boy anymore. The more of that man she saw, the more Emma had no idea what to do with any of the emotions he inspired within her.

  Time to distract herself. “You’re not tired?”

  Dillon shook his head. “No. I’m usually up pretty late on Sunday nights. Occupational hazard. I’m at the club until around four most nights.”

  “Four a.m.?” Annie got up at six most mornings. Emma couldn’t imagine staying up that late.

  He turned his head to look at her again. “If you’re not tired, I rented a couple movies. We could watch one if you’d like.”

  The anticipation in his tone, ripe with an awkward tension, hinted at his true meaning. He wanted to spend time with her. She wished she could see his eyes.

  She twisted her hands together and forced her mind to focus. “I’d like that, but there’s one more thing I want to discuss with you first.”

  Dillon studied her for a moment then jerked his head in the direction of the doorway. “Come on.”

  That awkward awareness moved with them down the hallway, once again making Emma too aware of him. The masculine feel of him when they made their way into the living room made her tremble with a quiet need to feel his arms close around her again. Filled her mind with the heated fantasy of his mouth closing over hers, an image she’d conjured too often since coming back to town.

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nbsp; Once they reached the couch, Dillon turned to her, brows raised. “So?”

  Swallowing hard, she tipped her head back to look up at him and motioned to the sofa. “Sit. Please.”

  The way he towered over her made her nervous and Emma was edgy enough already. Maybe if they sat eye to eye, she might be able to get this out without her tongue tying itself into a knot.

  He pulled his hands from his pockets and sank to the tan leather sofa, then turned expectantly to her. “I’m all yours.”

  Emma ignored the tingle his comment sent shivering down her spine and took the seat beside him, tucking one leg beneath her, drawing the other up against her belly. She drew in a deep breath, sucking up her courage. She didn’t want much, right? Dillon shouldn’t have a problem with it…

  Yet, her stomach tightened in apprehension. Two days ago she was sure he didn’t want marriage or kids. She hoped but hadn’t really expected him to take responsibility for Annie. Who knew how he’d react to this one.

  “I’d like you to consider something.” She turned to look at him.

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’d like you to consider joint custody.” Emma sighed and lowered her gaze to the sofa between them. The pain slipped up to wrap around her heart even before the words formed on her tongue, tears burning behind her eyelids. “With Janey gone, she’s the only family I have left.”

  She hated admitting her vulnerability, hated knowing Dillon now held the power to take it all away. Not since her near rape in high school had she ever given a man this much power over her. She was never able to do it, not even when she dated. Doing so meant running the risk of getting hurt.

  This was different. This was about Annie’s future. Which meant she needed to trust him. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how to do that, simply because she’d never done it before. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. Emma flat out didn’t trust men. Period. The thought of being vulnerable with one made her nauseous.

  “I don’t have a problem with that.” Dillon cupped her chin in his palm and tipped her face to meet his. His voice vibrated with quiet understanding. “Family’s important.”

  Relief flooded her. Emma smiled, her tense muscles relaxing a fraction. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I didn’t expect it.”

  He dropped his hand to his lap. “I have to admit I don’t like how far away you live. Helena’s a good hour and a half’s drive. It’s not an easy, quick commute. It’s not like you’d drop her off at school in the morning and I’d pick her up. She’d have to be gone for a few days at a time. I’m not sure I like the idea of bouncing her back and forth between us. It’d be easier if you lived in town.”

  She nodded. “I know. I’ll admit I haven’t figured out all the details yet.” She held his gaze, imploring him to understand. “I just can’t give her up.”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to.” He offered a soft smile, the gentle understanding in his eyes instantly soothing ragged nerves.

  He’d given her far more than expected. Once again, Dillon James showed her a side of him she was sure hadn’t existed before.

  “Give me a few days to mull it over. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  She nodded, then reached out and settled her hand over his. “Thank you.”

  She’d meant the gesture to be one of gratitude. He could easily call his lawyer and sue for sole custody. The lawyer she spoke with warned that, providing a DNA test proved him to be Annie’s father, he had the right to contest her guardianship. Emma didn’t want to go the legal route. She hoped they could settle this between themselves and was beyond grateful to discover that they had.

  The gesture quickly became something else entirely. His warm skin against hers sent heated shivers that spread from the point of contact outwards.

  Heat simmered in the depths of his eyes, and Dillon turned his hand over, palm up, and held it there in silent invitation. The longing in his gaze said he had very similar thoughts, and for a moment, Emma could only stare at his hand. Part of her yearned to take his hand. The more rational side of her brain screamed warnings at her.

  Even before she fully made the conscious decision, her hand slipped into his. Their fingers tangled together, his palm warm and smooth in hers. The gesture provided a simple connection that soothed the lonely ache deep inside, but the feel of his skin sent her heart tripping in her chest. It beat out a wild, erratic rhythm. Those penetrating dark eyes held her captive, seemed to stare right down into her soul until she feared of losing herself in the infinite depths.

  “Want to watch a movie?” Dillon’s quiet voice vibrated with the sweet tension of the moment, and desire flitted like butterflies through her belly.

  Emma could only nod. She knew darn well she ought to pull away, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. His eyes rendered her defenseless and her mind rewound back to that night eight years ago. Despite better judgment, some part of her, deep inside, hoped for a repeat. A chance to be within the safety of that embrace one more time.

  Her gaze drifted to his mouth. She denied it over the years, but sitting with him now Emma couldn’t ignore it. Eight years ago, sitting on her mother’s couch after the funeral, she was tempted to kiss him. Back then, it was a hopeless thought in a desperate moment. Those fathomless eyes promised her safety, security, and tenderness. She wanted to get lost in them, if only for a moment, to escape the incredible pain.

  Now, she wanted, needed to know what true passion felt like. Passion with someone she knew would never hurt her.

  “It’s a horror flick. Is that okay?” One corner of his mouth quirked up, breaking the sweet tension of the moment. “I’m afraid I don’t do chick flicks.”

  His grin melted her insides and an answering smile spread. “I love horror actually. Nothing like a good scare.”

  He smiled. There was a content, but slightly surprised look on his face. “Janey hated them. She never watched them with me, said they gave her nightmares.”

  She let out a laugh, surprised and pleased by the ease that suddenly spanned between them. “Yeah, she used to tell me the same thing. I used to have to turn the TV down so she couldn’t hear it.”

  He gave a quiet laugh and turned away from her. When he pushed off the sofa, his fingers slipped from hers. The loss of their warmth shuddered through her. After putting the DVD into the player, he sank to the sofa beside her again and reached for her hand. His gaze on the television, he threaded their fingers, pulling their joined hands onto his lap. Then he picked up a remote off a small table to his right and pushed a button to start the movie. He settled back, like they sat together this way all the time.

  The moment had an odd comforting sense about it that set off warning bells. He fully admitted he didn’t do emotional attachments, and Emma knew darn well she couldn’t settle for anything less. Janey had been the free spirit, not her. She tried it once in high school. It had gotten her into trouble she almost wasn’t able to get out of. It ended in a night she’d never forget. She hadn’t ever had the guts to try something like that again.

  On top of it all, the little voice in the back of her mind reminded her again that this man was her niece’s father. Her sister’s lover. She knew the awful word the boy called her that long ago night didn’t apply, but still it taunted her. What did it say about her, that she allowed this small measure of intimacy between her and Dillon?

  At the same time, she couldn’t summon the will to pull her hand back. They continued to watch the movie, the awkwardness that started the night melting into a comfortable silence. She leaned against his shoulder, glad for the solid strength of him beside her. Dillon lifted his arm in silent invitation and Emma couldn’t resist snuggling against his side. His arm settled around her, becoming a welcome weight. A simple gesture she wanted to revel in, because here, with him, she didn’t feel so alone anymore.

  Emma woke the next morning in the spare bedroom, the sounds of Annie’s happy, playful babbling filling the room. According to the bedside clock it was just after
six, but glancing out the window she found stars still littered the sky.

  She sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. Her last memory was of curling up beside Dillon. The movie hadn’t been that good and the day had worn her out. She didn’t remember falling asleep, let alone getting up and coming to bed. Dillon must have carried her.

  The thought brought heat curling low in her belly and the night came rushing back. She couldn’t forget the feel of his arm around her. Such a simple thing, yet so profound.

  Things were shifting between them. The hard edge was softening. Her heartbeat sped up at the thought of seeing him this morning. How would he react to last night? What look would flash across his candid brown eyes when he saw her? Seeing his soft side left her conflicted. What else lay beneath the façade? Those were very dangerous ponderings. The last thing she needed was to get involved right now, least of all with her sister’s best friend and lover.

  Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then rose from the bed and crossed to the crib. Hands on the railing, she bent over it. “Morning, sweet girl.”

  Chubby little cheeks spread into a wide grin. At six months old, she now had four teeth, all gleaming at Emma when Annie cooed, holding her arms out.

  “Come on, pretty girl.” She scooped her up and laid her on the bed. After changing her diaper, she settled Annie on a hip. “Let’s go make you some breakfast.”

  When they entered the kitchen, a piece of paper taped to a cabinet above the coffeemaker caught her attention. Her name was scrawled across the top in Dillon’s careful handwriting.

  EM—

  Make yourself at home. Coffee’s in this cabinet, mugs are to the right of the sink.

  She couldn’t help grinning. Only a fellow coffee addict would be sure to tell someone where to find the goods.

  Janey told me once you liked bagels, so I stopped by the store while you slept. They’re in the fridge. Please call Doctor Marley and make an appointment. Not too early. I’m usually not up before noon.