The Playboy's Baby(35)
“You okay?” His voice drifted low and quiet in her ear. “You don’t sound like yourself.”
Somehow she wasn’t surprised he’d noticed.
“Just…having trouble adjusting to an empty house.” She sighed and pushed away from the counter, wandering out of the kitchen and into the living room. “The house has too much of Janey in it. Reminders are everywhere. Without Annie, the entire place feels too quiet. How is she?”
“She’s fine. I dropped her off with my mom about an hour ago. I called her right before I called you, and Ma said she gobbled up her dinner and they were having a grand time playing together. Says she hasn’t fussed once.”
That was a relief, but some part of her still worried anyway. She missed that sweet smiling face, missed the sounds of her cooing and babbling.
The sound of the music suddenly grew louder on the other end of the phone. “Hang on.”
Rustling drifted across the line like something brushed the receiver, and another voice came from a distance, low and muffled, the words indistinguishable. While she waited, she moved into the living room and sank onto the sofa, tucking one leg beneath her.
To someone else, he said, “I’ll be right down.” Then to her, “What time do you go to bed?”
“Nine or ten, why?”
“I’m afraid I have to get off for a bit.” Regret tinged his tone. “They need me downstairs, but I’ll call you before you go to sleep, okay?”
“All right.” The thought provided a reassurance. She hung up the phone, the knot in her chest easing. She shouldn’t, but she looked forward to the phone call, to the soothing sound of his voice.
Ten o’clock came and Emma couldn’t sleep. That small part of her waited for her cell phone to ring. When it finally did, her heart took off at a giddy little gallop and she snatched the phone up before it could ring a second time.
Dillon’s quiet laugh echoed across the line. “What were you doing, sitting on the phone?”
Heat crept into her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of.”
His voice sobered. “That bad, huh?”
“First day is always the worst, I guess.” She shrugged.
A beat of silence passed. “Close your eyes.”
She rolled over in bed and tucked the phone between her ear and the pillow. “Ok.”
Another beat of silence.
“Now imagine me there with you.” His voice drifted over the phone like a caress, a low, husky rumble that sent tiny shivers racing up and down her spine.
The image rose in her mind, of her first night back in town, sitting in his office with him. The way he pulled her out of her seat and into his embrace. She felt again his strong arms wrapped around her, the warmth and solidness of his body. The quiet rhythm of his heartbeat sounded through the recesses of her memory. The image didn’t heat her up the way she expected. Once again his affect on her senses surprised her. The images and sensations slid around her like a warm blanket, soft and soothing, melting the tension from her body.
“Does that help?”
“Yes.” More than she had words to tell him. She bit down on her bottom lip and hesitated. “Do me a favor?”
A low creak sounded over the line. “Anything.”
“Talk to me? The sound of your voice helps. Do you have time?”
“Yeah. I have time.”
He spent the next half hour filling her with tidbits about the club, the workers, and the minute details of his night. Coming from anyone else, his words might have been boring, but coming from him, she felt engrossed in his world. The simple sound of his voice on the other end of the line wrapped around her until she almost felt him right beside her, laying with her in the dark.
When she found herself falling asleep she forced herself to open her eyes, shattering the fantasy. “Dillon?”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Same time.”
* * *
All kinds of warning bells went off in his head when Dillon sank into the chair in his office and dialed Emma’s number Friday night. He was getting in over his head with her. He ought to cut the ties now, stop this before it went too far, because it was entirely too easy to talk to her, to let go. He told her things he hadn’t intended. Like how much he missed her being in the house. The soft sound of her voice tugged at him, drew him in, and wrapped around him. It had been a long time since he’d had the simple luxury of talking to someone who listened, really listened, and he missed that.
They had one such conversation the night before. Listening to the phone ring, his mind drifted back. It started when she asked the one question he’d dreaded all day. “How’d your first day with Annie go?”