One Secret Night, One Secret Baby(17)
“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 flushed 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?”
“I’m at your mercy. You decide. You’re the movie connoisseur.”
Dylan picked an Oscar-nominated film about a boy’s journey growing up and took the seat next to her. Wrapped chocolates, sour gummies and cashews were set out on a side table and a blue bottle of zillion-dollar water sat in the cupholder beside her chair.
“All set?”
She nodded. “Ready when you are.”
Dylan hit a button on a remote control and the overhead lights dimmed as the screen lit up. Emma relaxed in her lounger and focused on the movie. They shared a bag of popcorn, and by the time they got to the bottom of the bag, her eyes had become a teary mess, a few escapees trickling down her cheeks from the poignancy of the film, its depiction of the heartfelt joy of family life, the struggles and cheerful moments and all the rest.
Picking up on her emotion, Dylan placed a tissue in her hand. She gave him a nod of thanks, wiped her watery eyes and focused back on the screen. It wasn’t hormones that wrecked her heart this time. Whenever she witnessed a real family in action, the ups and downs and the way they all came together out of love and loyalty, she realized how very much she’d missed out on as a child. Though she was proud of the fact she hadn’t let her childhood hinder her in any way. It had only made her more determined to seek a better life for herself, and now for her child.
Dylan reached over the lounger and took her hand. She glanced at their entwined fingers, his hand tanned and so very strong, hers smaller, more delicate, and she welcomed the comfort, the ease with which they could sit there together and watch a movie, holding hands.
The movie ended on a satisfying note and Dylan squeezed her hand, but didn’t let her go. They remained in darkness but for the yellow floor lamps lighting a pathway around the room.
“Did you enjoy it?” he whispered.
“Very much.”
“I didn’t realize you’re such a soft touch.” His thumb rubbed over the skin of her hand in round, lazy sweeping circles.
“Only when it comes to movies.”
“I find that hard to believe. You’re soft...”
Her breath caught as she gazed into his heart-melting eyes.
“Everywhere.”
Oh, boy.
He turned his body and leaned in, his mouth inches from hers. “I’ve been thinking about the other night. If we hadn’t been interrupted, what would have happened?”
It wasn’t really a question he expected her to answer. She thought of that night, too, so often. Wondering what if?
And then his lips were on hers, his mouth so exquisite as he patiently waited for her to respond, waited for her to give in. “Dylan.”
“It’s just a kiss, Em.”
He made it seem so simple. “Not just a kiss,” she insisted, yet she couldn’t deny the temptation to kiss him back, to taste him and breathe in his delicious scent.
“This is what people do when they’re dating,” he whispered over her mouth.
“Is it?” Kissing Dylan wasn’t anything ordinary. Not to her. It was the stuff of dreams.
“Yeah, it is,” he said. “I want us to be more than friends, Em.”
She wanted to ask why. Was it all about the baby, or had he somehow, after all these years, miraculously found her appealing and desirable? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask, but she chickened out. She didn’t dare, because in her heart she already knew the truth.