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 make 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.”