“I bet you don’t anymore.”
He shrugged and slid her a crooked grin. “Not if I can help it.”
Thinking about her recent toilet incidents, she didn’t blame him. “Your mom and dad were wonderful people. They taught you well.”
“Yeah, but at the time I didn’t think so. I did more work than any of my friends. Before I could go out and play ball, I had a list of chores to get through. Weekends were especially gruesome.”
“They were building character.”
“Yeah, now I play characters on the screen.”
“And you still wash dishes and make your own meals. The last conversation I had with your mom, she told me how proud she was of you.”
“She is now, but when I left college in my sophomore year to pursue an acting career, my folks were both pretty bummed. Especially my dad. He had high hopes of me going to medical school. He lost his chance at being a doctor and tossed all of his hopes and guilt onto me. He wanted to be a pediatrician.” He made a noisy sigh and scrubbed at the dark blond stubble on his chin. “I guess I really disappointed him when I ran away with Renee.”
Renee had been no good for Dylan. Emma had heard that a zillion times from Brooke and Dylan’s folks. Emma hadn’t been too happy with her, either. At the tender age of fourteen, Emma’s heart had been crushed when Dylan had fallen in love with a cheerleading beauty who’d convinced him he could make it big in the movies. She had connections. She could get him in to see all the right people.
“Maybe it wasn’t in the cards for you to be a doctor. Your dad lived long enough to see your success. He had to know you made the right decision for yourself.”
“Dad didn’t think I knew what I was doing. And maybe I didn’t. Renee was my first girlfriend and I was crazy about her.” He pumped his shoulders a couple of times, hopelessly, and something faint and hidden entered his eyes. “But enough about ancient history. How about a soda?” He opened the fridge again. “Lemonade? Wine or beer? Anything else? Maisey keeps the fridge pretty stocked.”
“Water sounds good.” It was safe. She couldn’t trust her stomach right now, and even before she’d found out about the baby, she’d given up alcohol.
He handed her one of those cobalt blue water bottles that cost more than a glass of fine wine and then plucked out an Indian Brown Ale for himself. His throat moved as he tipped the bottle to his lips and took a swig. She looked away instantly. She was never one to hide her emotions and the last thing she needed was to have Dylan catch her eyeing him.
They’d had their one night. Unfortunately neither of them remembered it.
Dylan’s cell phone rang out the theme song to his latest action flick. How many people actually had their very own ringtone? He grabbed it off the counter and frowned at the screen. “Sorry, Emma. I have to get this. I’ll make it quick. It’s the head of the studio.”
“Go right ahead. I’m fine right here.” She gestured for him to take the call.
He nodded, his eyes sparkling with gratitude as he walked out of the room, the cell to his ear. Emma grabbed the salad from the refrigerator, set it on the granite island and then scrounged through drawers to find tongs. Coming up with a pair, she leaned against the counter as Dylan’s voice drifted to her ears.
“It’s Callista’s thirtieth birthday? Yeah, I think she’d love a party. Up at your house?”
And then after a long pause, “I’ll do my best to be there, Maury. Yes, yes, I’m recovering nicely, thank you. I’m back at work on Monday. Thanks for the call. See you soon.”
He walked back into the kitchen, frowning and running a hand down his face. “Sorry,” he said. “Business crap.”
“Sounds like Callista’s having a party.” She tilted her head. “Sorry, I overheard.”
“Yeah, she’s turning thirty. Maury likes to remind me he’s not getting any younger. He expects me to be there.” Dylan sighed.
Maury Allen had power and influence. That much, Emma knew. According to Brooke, he’d been pushing for Dylan to make a commitment to his daughter, but so far, Dylan had resisted. Their relationship had been on and off for three years. “And you don’t want to go?”
Dylan leaned back against the counter, picking up his beer. “Maury’s been good to me. Gave me my first break. I sort of owe him my loyalty. If he wants me at his daughter’s birthday celebration, I’ll go.”
Dylan McKay and Callista Lee Allen made a gorgeous couple. Whenever they were together, there were headlines. To all the world they probably seemed like a perfect match.
Which made Emma’s predicament suddenly jump to the forefront of her thoughts and curdle her stomach. She was feeling a little weak-kneed anyway and needed to sit down.
Dylan’s hand came to her elbow and his eyes locked onto hers. “Emma, are you okay? You’re looking pale. I need to get food into you. Come, sit down.”
Why was he always touching her? She had enough to deal with right now, without getting all fan crazy over Dylan’s slightest brotherly touch. “Okay, maybe I should sit.”
He guided her to the outside patio table closest to the kitchen. “Wait here. I’ll get some plates and bring out the food.”
She sat, dumbfounded by her fatigue, and stared straight out to sea. The waves gently rolled onto the shore, and stars above lit the sky as low-lying fixtures surrounding the deck gave off soothing light. Fresh scents from the vertical garden on her right drifted to her nose and the whole effect made her feel somewhat better.
Emma wasn’t a wilting flower. Nothing much rattled her, well, except being alone in complete darkness. Overall, considering her lousy childhood, she’d fended well in the world, but this whole Dylan thing—secretly carrying his child, losing her cookies every morning and not holding up her end with Parties-To-Go—overwhelmed her. The walls were closing in from all directions and right now her body wasn’t up for the fight.
Dylan came back loaded down with food and went about serving her as if she was the Queen of England. Then he offered her the tan suede jacket she’d brought from home. “It’s getting a little cool out here,” he said.
She nodded and he helped her put her arms through the sleeves. “There you go. Better?”
She nodded. The jacket fit her snugly. She wondered how much longer she could wear it and then, just like that, tears welled in her eyes. Her mouth began to quiver.
It had to be hormones.
Dylan didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy making sure she had everything she needed at the table. “Eat up, Emma.”
He finally sat and they both picked up their forks. The food was delicious and she managed to eat half of everything on her plate. An accomplishment, considering she hadn’t eaten this much in days.
“You’re not worried about your girlish figure, are you?” he asked, eyeing her plate. His grin and the twinkle in his eyes were right on par for Dylan.
“Should I be?”
His lids lowered as he slowly raked his gaze over her body. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
She had no comeback. He’d once touched every inch of her and seemed to have no complaints that she could remember.
She managed a smile, though suddenly her energy waned. “The food was amazing. I feel full and satisfied,” she fibbed. Actually, she wasn’t feeling so great. “Please be sure to thank Maisey for me.”
“I will.”
“Dylan?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m really exhausted. Would you mind taking me home?”
He hesitated and something that resembled regret flickered in his eyes. “Sure...if that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She rose and pushed back her chair. Before she could take a step, heat washed up and over her, spinning circles inside her head. Her legs buckled and soon she was falling, falling.
And then Dylan’s arms were around her, easing her to the ground. “Emma!”
A sharp pat to the face snapped her eyes open. She’d been slapped.
“Emma, thank God. You fainted.”
Her head felt light and she saw two Dylans leaning over her on bent knee. “I did?”
“Yeah, you were out for a few seconds. I’m going to get you inside and call 911.”
“No, no!” His words were enough to rouse her and refocus her eyes. “I don’t need the paramedics.”
“You do, honey. You’ve been sick for days now. You should see a doctor.” The resolve in his voice frightened her. This was going sideways fast.
“No, no. I’m not sick.”
“Something’s wrong with you, Emma. I have to get you help.”
“Dylan, no.” She gazed into his worried face. “I know what’s wrong. I’m not sick.”
“You’re not?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m...pregnant.”
Four
“Pregnant?” Had he heard Emma right? He didn’t know she’d been seeing anyone. He softened his voice, attempting to keep his surprise concealed. “You’re pregnant, Em?”
She nodded, chewing on her lower lip, her eyes down.
Where was the guy? Did he bail on her? And why did he feel sharp pangs in his gut consisting of an emotion he refused to name? “Are you sure?”