Читать книгу One Secret Night, One Secret Baby - Charlene Sands - Страница 9
ОглавлениеDylan wasn’t himself. That had to explain why he’d kissed Emma as though he meant it. Actually, he had meant it in that instant. She was familiar to him. He knew the score with her, his sister Brooke’s best friend. Someone he could trust. Someone he could rely on. The meds he was taking lessened his headaches and he was recovering, feeling better every day. But having a chunk of his memory gone affected his decision making and confidence, made him vulnerable and uncertain.
But one thing he was certain about: kissing Emma had made him feel better. It was the best kiss he’d had in a long time. It packed a wallop. He knew that without question. Those big green eyes that sparkled like emeralds wouldn’t steer him wrong. He’d needed the connection to feel whole again. To feel like himself.
Had he gotten all that from one mildly passionate kiss? Yeah. Because it was with Emma and he knew his limitations with her. She was untouchable and sweet with a side of sassy. So he’d kissed her and let the sugar in her fill him up and take away the pain in his heart.
“You’re quiet,” he said to her as they walked back toward his house. “Was the kiss out of line?”
“No. Not at all. You needed someone.”
He covered her hand with his again and squeezed gently. “Not just anyone, Emma. I needed someone I could trust. You. Sorry if I came on too strong.”
“You...didn’t.”
But she didn’t sound so sure.
“It was just a kiss, Dylan. It’s not as if you haven’t kissed me before.”
“Birthday kisses don’t count.”
She was quiet for a second. “I didn’t have a lot of affection when I was younger. Those birthday kisses meant a lot to me.”
He gave her another quick squeeze of the hand. “I know. Hey, remember the face-plant kiss?”
“Oh, God. Don’t bring that up, Dylan. I’m still mortified. Your parents went to a lot of trouble to make that cake for me.”
He chuckled at the image popping into his head. “Damn, that was funny.”
“It was your fault!”
Dylan’s smirk stayed plastered on his face. He couldn’t wipe it clean. At least his long-term memory was intact. “How was it my fault?”
“Rusty was your dog, wasn’t he? He tangled under my feet and in that moment I figured it was better to fall into the cake than snuff out your dog. I would’ve crushed that little Chihuahua if my full weight landed on him.”
“What were you, twelve at the time?”
“Yes! It said so on the birthday cake I demolished.”
Dylan snorted a laugh. “At least you got to taste it. It was all over your face. The rest of us just got to watch. But it was worth it.”
“You should’ve given me my birthday kiss before your mom kindly wiped my face clean. Then maybe you wouldn’t have felt so deprived. The cake was good, you know. Chocolate marble.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Em. I wasn’t deprived.”
She stopped abruptly, taking a stand in the sand, pulling her hand free of his and folding her arms across her middle. “What’s that supposed to mean? You enjoyed seeing me fall?”
The phony pout on her face brought him a lightness that he hadn’t felt in more than a week, since before the accident.
“Oh, come on, Miss Drama Queen. It was many moons ago.” And yes, he knew stuntmen, Roy included, who couldn’t have done a better pratfall. It had been hilarious.
“Me? Drama queen? I don’t think so. I’m standing here, looking at a true-life drama king. Mr. Winner of two Academy Awards and God only knows how many Golden Globes.”
“Three.” He grinned.
She rolled her eyes. “Three,” she repeated.
He walked back to where she’d made her stand and grabbed up her hand again, tugging her along. He liked Emma Rae Bloom. She’d had a tough life, raised by neglectful foster parents. Just by the grace of all good things, she’d become his sister’s best friend, and thus, a member of the McKay clan.
They were almost back to his house. It was sundown, a time when the beach was quiet but for the waves washing upon the shore. Moonlight illuminated the water and reflected off the sand where he stopped to face Emma. “Well, you’ve succeeded where many have failed this week, Em. You’ve put a smile on my face.”
Her pert little chin lifted to him, and he balked at the urge to take her into his arms again. To kiss that mouth and feel the lushness of her long hair against his palms. She was petite in size and stature, especially without shoes on, and so different than the tall lean models and actresses he’d dated.
He wouldn’t kiss her again. But it surprised him how badly he wanted to.
He pursed his lips and went with his gut. “Hey, you know, I’ve got this charity gig coming up. If the doctors say I’m good to go, I’d love for you to join me for the meet and greet at Children’s West Hospital.”
Emma turned away from him now, to gaze out to sea. “You want me to go with you?”
“Yep.”
“Don’t you have agents and personal assistants to do that sort of thing?”
“Em?”
“What?”
Tucking his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go.”
She whipped her head around, her eyes a spark of brightness against the dim skies. “Why do you want me to go?”
“The truth? I’m a little mixed-up right now. Having a friend come along will make me feel a little safer. I haven’t been out in public since the accident. Besides, I know the kids will love you. I was going to ask Brooke, too.”
“Oh.” She ducked her head, looking sheepish. “These kids, are they all ill?”
“Mostly, yes. But many are in recovery, thank goodness. I’m slated to do a promo spot in a few days with some of the kids to raise funds and awareness about the good the hospital does. I’ve donated a little to the new wing of the hospital and I guess that’s why they’ve asked me.”
“You donated 1.3 million dollars to the new wing, Dylan. I read that online. It’s going to be amazing. The new wing will have a screening room with interactive games for the kids.”
He smiled. “So what do you say?”
“Yes, of course I’ll go.”
“Thanks, Em. Now, let’s get back inside before Brooke sends out a search party for us.”
Emma’s laughter filled his ears and made him smile again.
* * *
Late Wednesday afternoon, Emma hung up the phone with Mrs. Alma Montalvo, rested her arms on her office desk and hung her head. The client was delirious about details and had sapped Emma’s energy for two long hours. Yes, they’d found a local band to play fifties tunes. Yes, they’d rented a ’57 Chevy and it would be parked strategically at the top of their multitiered lawn for added effect. Yes, they’d have a photo booth decked out with leather jackets, poodle skirts and car club insignia for the guests to wear as they had their photos snapped. Yes, yes, yes.
Thank goodness the party was this Saturday night. After it was over, she and Brooke could take their big fat check from Mrs. Montalvo and say, Hasta la vista, baby. Parties-To-Go has come and gone.
The chime above the door rang out Leslie Gore’s classic song “It’s My Party” and Emma glanced up.
“Hey, I thought you were going home early today,” Brooke said, entering their Santa Monica office.
“I thought I was, too, but Mrs. Montalvo had other ideas.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “We’ll impress the hell out of her, Emma. The party is going to be top-notch.”
“It better be. I’ve put in extra hours on this one.”
Brooke grinned and set down shopping bags on the desk adjacent to Emma’s. The office furnishings were an eclectic mix, all colorful and light to convey a party atmosphere for clients. The desks were clear Plexiglas, the walls were painted bright pastels and the chairs were relics that had been upholstered in floral materials. Photos of their parties and events adorned the walls from hoedowns on local ranch properties to rich, elaborate weddings with a few celebrity endorsements mixed in, thanks to Dylan.
They had two part-time employees who came in after school and on weekends to answer phones, do online research and work the parties whenever needed.
“Take a look at this,” Brooke said, pulling a mocha cocktail dress from a box in one of the bags. “Isn’t it...perfect? I got it at the little shop on Broadway.”
“Wow, it’s gorgeous. And not black. I bet it’s for the San Diego golf dinner, right?”
Brooke was shaking her head. “Nope, not at all. You’ll never guess.”
Emma’s thoughts ran through a list of upcoming events and couldn’t come up with anything. “Don’t make me, then. Tell me!”
Brooke put the dress up to her chin, hugged it to her waist and twirled around, just like when they used to play dress-up and pretend to be princesses ready to meet their special prince.
“I have a date.” Brooke sang out the words and stomped her feet.
It shouldn’t be that monumental, but Brooke seldom dated. After graduating from college, they’d both been focused on the business. And Brooke was picky when it came to men. So this was a big deal, judging by the megawatt, light-up-Sunset-Boulevard smile on her face. “The best part is, he doesn’t know who I am.”
Or rather, who her brother was. Most people, men and women alike, showed interest in Brooke once they found out that Dylan was her big brother. It sucked big-time and made Brooke wary of any friendliness coming her way. She was never sure if there was an ulterior motive.
“I mean, of course he knows my name is Brooke. We met at Adele’s Café. We were both waiting for our take-out lunch orders and it took forever. But once we got to talking, neither of us minded the long wait.”
“When was this?”
“Yesterday.”
“And you didn’t tell me!” Wasn’t that like breaking the BFF rule?
“I didn’t know if he’d call.” She hugged the dress one last time, before carefully stowing it back in the box. “But he did this morning and asked me out for the following weekend. And get this, he wanted to see me sooner but I told him about the event this weekend and he seemed really disappointed. We don’t have anything next weekend. Tell me we don’t. The golf tournament is in three weeks, right?”
Emma punched it up on her computer and glanced at their calendar. “Right, but you’re so excited, even if we had an event, I’d relieve you of your duties. I’ve never seen you so gaga. What’s his name?”
“Royce Brisbane. He’s in financial planning.”
Emma dug her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from chuckling. “You, with a suit?”
“Yes, but he looks dreamy in it.”
“Wow, Brooke. You really like this guy. You shopped.” Brooke was not a shopper. She had one color in her wardrobe arsenal, basic black, and she wore it like armor every day.
“I think I do like him. A lot. It was so easy talking to him. We have a lot in common.”
“Tell me more.”
After getting the full details on Royce Brisbane, Emma’s thoughts went to Brooke’s upcoming date on the drive home. Emma had to admit, the guy sounded good on paper. If he made Brooke happy, then she was all for it. She hadn’t seen Brooke smile so much in months. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing. A very bad thing. The more you care about someone, the more they could potentially hurt you. But Emma wouldn’t poke a hole in Brooke’s happy balloon; her friend deserved to have a good time.
Emma parked in her apartment structure and climbed out of her car. Her legs were two strands of thin spaghetti tonight. It was an effort to walk across the courtyard to her front door. She shoved the sticky door open with her body and glimpsed her comfy sofa with cushy pillows and a quilt she could curl up in. She dropped her purse unceremoniously onto the coffee table, sank down onto the sofa and let out a relieved sigh.
A hundred details ran through her head. The upcoming golf event was first and foremost in her mind. It wasn’t for a few weeks yet, but it was a big opportunity for the business. She did yet another mental check, making sure all bases were covered, before she could really relax. Somewhat confident she hadn’t forgotten anything, she lay her head down and stretched her legs out, allowing the cushions to envelop her weary body.
If only she could go mindless for a while. Sometimes she envied people who could close everything off and go blank. Just...be. She tended to overthink everything, which made her excellent at her job, but a sad prospect for a carefree lifestyle.
The night of the memorial for Roy Benjamin played in her head and she immediately zoomed in on Dylan McKay. The way he had held her on the beach, the way she had felt when his hand covered hers possessively, the way his mouth had moved over hers and claimed her in a kiss. It wasn’t a birthday kiss. It wasn’t a friend’s kiss, either, though Dylan seemed to think so. It was much more for her. And the memory floated through her body and filled in all the lonely gaps.
Secret dibs.
She smiled. It was never going to happen, yet part of her fantasy had come true. Dylan had made glorious love to her. Okay, so she wasn’t sure about the glorious part. She’d been too out of it to know if he was a good lover or not. But in her fantasy world, Dylan was the best. Appeal magazine had said so, too. He’d been voted Most Sexy Single this year. And there had been endorsements by his former girlfriends. So it had to be true.
Her eyes grew heavy. It was a battle to keep them open with the cushions supporting her fatigued body and the quilt covering her. All tucked in, she gave up the fight and surrendered to slumber.
Ruff, ruff...ruff, ruff.
Emma bolted upright, her eyes snapping to attention. She found herself on the sofa, half covered with her favorite quilt. How long had she been out? Squinting, she glanced at the wall clock. It was eight thirty. Wow, she’d been asleep for ninety minutes. She’d never taken a nighttime nap before.
Ruff, ruff...ruff, ruff.
Her phone rang again. She grappled for it inside her purse and put it to her ear. “Hello.”
“Hello.”
It was Dylan. There was no mistaking that deep baritone voice that had half the female movie-viewing population panting to hear more. “Oh, hi.”
She hinged her body up, planted her feet on the ground and shook her head to clear away the grogginess.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
Did she sound as if she’d been sleeping? She tried her best to pretend she was wide-awake. “Not at all. I’m up.”
“Busy?”
“No. Just sitting here...going over a few details in my head.” A yawn crept out and she cupped her hand over her mouth to hide the sound. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing much. I spoke with Darren on the phone and my manager stopped by to check on me tonight. To be honest, I’m going a little stir-crazy.”
“You’re used to being busy.”
“I can’t wait to get back to work. But then, I’m dreading it at the same time.”
“I get it. It’s because of Roy. It’ll be strange for you to go about your daily routine knowing that he’s gone and you’re going on with your life.”
“How come you’re so smart, Em?”
“I got lucky in the brains department I guess.” She chewed on her lip. She still wasn’t comfortable speaking to Dylan with this big black cloud hanging over her head. It made her feel guilty and disingenuous. And why was he suddenly her best friend? Did that knock to his head change his perspective? They’d always been cordial, but since his rise to celebrity status, she hadn’t exactly been on his radar. All of a sudden, he was behaving as if they were best buds.
He was disoriented. Fuzzy in the brain. And in need of someone he could trust. But as soon as he was comfortable in his own skin again, things would change. She had no doubt. Dylan was a busy, busy man, sought after by the masses and the media, with who knew how many opportunities for work.
She scrunched up her face. Don’t get used to his attention, Emma.
“Well, I won’t keep you,” he said. “I’m calling to confirm our date.”
Date? A bad choice of words. “You mean the hospital thing?”
“Yes, it’s this Friday morning. How about I swing by your place around nine to pick you up?”
“That’s fine. I’m still not sure of my part in all this, but I’m happy to help out.”
“You are helping out. You’re helping me.”
The way he said it, with such deep sincerity, tugged her heart in ten different ways. And it dawned on her that it wasn’t just returning to work he was partially dreading, but going out in public for the first time with everyone expecting to see Dylan McKay back in true form. That was clearly worrying him. He didn’t know if he was ready for that. He needed the support of his sister and friend.
“And you’re going to make a difference in a lot of children’s lives.”
“I hope to. See you around nine, Em. Sleep tight.”
“You, too.”
Emma ended the call and sat there for a few minutes taking it all in again. She had to stop dwelling on Dylan McKay. Food usually kept her mind occupied. But oddly, she wasn’t hungry. In fact, the thought of eating right now turned her stomach, so she nixed that plan and picked up the TV remote. She hit the on button and her small flat-screen lit up the dark room. The channel, tuned to the local network, was airing a movie. She settled back, propping up her feet, and stared ahead.
Dylan McKay’s handsome face popped up, filling most of the screen, his bone-melting blue eyes gazing into the pretty face of Hollywood’s latest darling, Sophie Adams. The cowboy and his girl were about to ride into the sunset. The camera zoomed in for the movie-ending kiss, and just like that, something cold and painful snared Emma’s heart as Dylan’s mouth locked onto Sophie’s.
Hitting the off button did little to calm her. Why couldn’t she get away from Dylan?
Falling for the unattainable was romantic suicide. She wasn’t that stupid.
She’d just have to get over her secret dibs.
End of story.
* * *
She was ready at precisely nine o’clock. When the doorbell rang, she took a quick glance in the mirror, checking her upswept hairstyle, snowy-white pants and the sherbet-pink blazer she wore over a dotted swiss top. A tiny locket nestled at the base of her throat; that, silver stud earrings and a fashionable chunky watch were all the jewelry she’d opted for. She was going for a professional look without appearing unapproachable to the children. A little thrill ran through her body. Seeing Dylan aside, she was looking forward to meeting the kids, knowing firsthand how hard it was for a youngster to be outside the mainstream. She’d been one of those kids. Lucky for her, she had been healthy, but she’d been different, unloved and unwanted, and she’d never really felt as if she belonged.
Today was all about the kids.
She opened the door and was immediately yanked out of her noble thoughts as she took one look at Dylan standing on her doorstep. She’d expected his driver. But there Dylan was, in the flesh, his bandage gone now, the scar on the side of his head that would eventually heal only making him appear more manly, more dangerous, more gorgeous. Dressed in new jeans and a tan jacket over a white shirt, he smiled at her. “Morning. You look great.”
She didn’t feel great. She had woken up pale as a ghost and feeling boneless from tossing and turning all night. But his compliments could get to her, if she put stock in them. He was smooth. He was the consummate lady-killer. He knew which buttons to push to make females fall at his feet. And with her, she was sure, he wasn’t even trying.
“Thank you. Is Brooke with you?”
He shook his head. “Brooke cracked a tooth this morning. She called me in a panic and said she had to get it fixed right away. I guess it’s because of your event tomorrow, but she bailed. She’s got a hot date with the dentist in twenty minutes.”
Or rather a hot date with Royce next week and she couldn’t go toothless. “Oh. Poor Brooke.”
“She didn’t call you?”
Emma lifted her phone out of her purse and glanced at the screen. “Oh, yeah, she did,” she said. “Looks like a voice mail this morning. I was probably in the shower.”
Dylan’s eyes flickered and roamed over her body. Gosh, he was Flirt Central without even knowing it.
“I’m ready. Or would you like to come in?” Oh, boy, had she really invited him in? The last time he’d been here, they’d...
He glanced behind her and scanned her apartment as if seeing it for the first time. It was clear he didn’t remember coming here.
She put those thoughts out of her mind and wondered what he would think of her two-bedroom apartment tucked into an older residential area of Santa Monica. There were no views of the ocean, no trendy, glamorous furnishings or updated kitchen. But it was all hers. And she loved having...stuff of her own.
“Maybe some other time,” he said politely. “We should probably hit the road.”
After she locked up her apartment, Dylan took her arm and guided her through the courtyard to the limousine parked by the sidewalk. “Here you go,” he said as the driver opened the door. She slid in and Dylan followed. “I haven’t gotten clearance to drive yet,” he explained as he settled into the seat across from her by the window.
But it wasn’t as if being carted around in a limo was foreign to him.
“Thanks again for coming with me today.”
Again, she was struck by his sincerity. “You’re welcome. Actually, I’m looking forward to it.”
He stared at her, waiting for more.
She shrugged. “It’s just that my own childhood wasn’t ideal. If I can do something for these kids, even just as a bystander, I’m all for it. But how are you doing? This is your first venture out in public since the...”
“Accident?” His lips tightened and he sighed. “Let’s just say, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Even though you’ll have your team waiting for you there?”
“My agent and PA are great, don’t get me wrong. But they see me one way. I don’t think they get how hard this has been for me. Losing those days of my life, and losing Roy, has put me at a disadvantage I’m not used to. There are missing pages in my life.”
And she could fill in some of those blanks if she had the courage.
He reached for her hand and laid their entwined fingers on the middle seat between them. “Brooke had good reason to jump ship today. I’m just glad you didn’t bail.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know. That’s why I asked you to join me. I can count on you.”
They reached Children’s West Hospital, a beautiful building with white marble walls and modern lines. The limo slowed to a stop right in the circular drive that led to the entrance.
“Ready for the show?”
Several news crews were waiting like vultures, snapping pictures even before the driver got out of the limo. Dylan made headlines everywhere he went, and his first time out in public since the accident was big news. She recognized Darren, his agent, and Rochelle, his prim assistant, also waiting along the lineup. “Ready.” Emma gave off much more confidence than she was feeling.
Dylan waited two beats, sighed as if grasping for strength and then nodded to his driver, who had one hand on the door handle. The door opened and photos were snapped immediately. Dylan got out, waved to the crowd and then reached inside to take her hand. She exited the limo and was dragged into the fray by Dylan, who seemed to tighten his hold on her. A hospital official came forward to greet them and introductions were made as security guards ensured that none of the news media followed them into the hospital lobby. His agent and PA also followed behind, eyeing everyone. Still, Emma saw cameras pressed up against the windows, the paparazzi snapping photos of Dylan and his entourage as they moved along the corridors with Richard Jacoby, the hospital administrator, and a few other ranking hospital officials.
Mr. Jacoby stopped at a double-wide door and turned to their small group. “The children are excited to meet you, Dylan. We’ve gathered our recovering patients here, in the doctor’s lounge. And later, we’ll go up to see the other children who are still in treatment.”
Emma assumed that he was talking about the kids who couldn’t make it out of bed. Her heart lurched and she braced herself for what was to come.
“Afterward, we’ll shoot your promo spot with Beth and Pauly.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dylan said.
“We had a little movie premiere of His Rookie Year last night for everyone to get acquainted with who you are. Most of them already knew of you. Eddie Renquist was quite a character.”
The rated-G movie hadn’t won Dylan any awards, but he’d garnered a whole new audience of youngsters with that role. It was on Emma’s Top Ten Favorite list.
“After you,” Mr. Jacoby said, and they entered a large room filled with kids of all ages, sitting on grown-up chairs, their eyes as big as the smiles on their faces. They began waving at Dylan. With Emma at his side, he made his way over and spoke to each child. The younger boys called him Eddie and asked him all about baseball, as if he really was a star athlete like his character in the film. Dylan was quite knowledgeable actually and always reminded them he was only acting out a role. Some of them got it, others weren’t quite sure. The girls were all over the map, the teens telling him he was hot and they loved him, while the younger ones wanted to shake his hand or give him a hug.
Dylan wasn’t stingy with his hugs. He gave them freely and laughed with the kids, shook hands and recited lines from his movies when asked. Some of the kids with shaved heads had peach fuzz growing. They were the lucky ones, the ones who would eventually go home to live normal lives. Some wore back braces or leg casts; others were in wheelchairs. But all in all, every one of them reacted positively to Dylan. He was good with them and managed to bring Emma into the conversation often.
“This is my friend Emma. She plans parties and knows a lot about everything,” he said.
“Have you ever planned a Cinderella party?” one of the younger girls asked.
“Well, of course. Cinderella and Belle and Ariel are friends of mine,” she said.
A cluster of little girls surrounded her and asked her dozens of questions.
Dylan caught her eye and nodded as he continued to make his way around the room. Once Dylan had greeted every single child, he came to stand at the front of the room and asked if they would like to sing a few songs. “Emma has a great voice and knows lots of songs.”
It wasn’t exactly out of her wheelhouse to entertain children, but this had come out of the blue. “Oh, of course. We can do that.” She jumped right in.
She led them in Taylor Swift and Katy Perry songs as well as a song from Frozen, for the little ones, and then Mr. Jacoby signaled to her that their time was up. Dylan walked over to his personal assistant and she handed him a packet of cards.
“Thanks for giving me a chance to meet you all,” he said to the kids. “I’m going to come around the room again one more time and hand out movie passes for you and your families.”
And afterward, they were whisked away, riding up in the elevator to the third floor where the really ill children lay in beds. What really struck Emma was how happy all the children seemed to be, despite the bald heads, wires and tubes going through them, limbs in casts and machines humming. Experiencing their unqualified acceptance and genuine gladness to see them was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking. Emma sent up silent prayers for all of them, wishing that affliction wouldn’t strike ones so young. But their spirit was amazing and many adults, including her, could learn from their sense of joy and gratefulness.
Dylan treated these kids in the same way he had the others. No pity shone in his eyes; instead, there was a sense of camaraderie and friendship. He was one with them, talking movies and baseball and family with these wonderfully unaffected children.
“It’s a lot to take in,” Dylan said once they were alone in the hallway.
“They’re sweet kids.”
“They shouldn’t have to deal with this crap. They should be allowed to be kids.”
This wasn’t just a photo op for Dylan. “You’re a softy. Who knew?”
She knew. She’d seen it firsthand and she’d learned something about Dylan today. His compassion for the less fortunate was astounding.
“Shh. You don’t want to wreck my image, do you?” He grinned.
“Heavens, not me.”
His agent and PA called him away, and he excused himself. When he returned, he was frowning. “The little boy Pauly who was to do the shoot with us had a setback. He’s not healthy enough to do the promo spot right now. They’re giving me the option to do it with only Beth or to pick another child, or I can wait for Pauly. The camera crew is all here, everything’s set up, but here’s the thing. Pauly was really looking forward to this. They tell me it’s all he’s talked about all week.” Dylan ran a hand down his face. “What do you think?”
He was asking her advice? She didn’t know about the technical nature of this business or the cost involved, but she had only one answer for Dylan. “I’d wait for Pauly. It might make the difference in his recovery, if he has this to look forward to.”
Dylan smiled wide, his eyes locking to hers in relief. “That’s what I was thinking, too.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”
He turned away before he could take in her shocked expression. He’d kissed her again.
It had to be the surroundings, the children, the good that he’d done today to brighten lives here at Children’s West Hospital, and that’s all Emma would read into it.
When they walked out of the hospital a short time later, the press vultures were waiting, snapping pictures and shooting questions at him from behind a roped-off line. She stood in the background with Darren and Rochelle, noting how perfectly Dylan handled the situation, stopping them with a hand up. “I’ll make a brief statement. As you can see, I’m doing well and recovering. I’ll be back to work very soon, but today is not about me. It’s about the wonderful work this hospital is doing for the children. The doctors and staff here are dedicated and so willing to give of themselves. We’re hoping to shine a light on Children’s West Hospital today. Visit their website to see how you can help these brave children. Thank you.”
With that, Dylan ushered Emma into the limo and it sped off before she could get her seat belt on.
“Whoa,” he said, and for the first time today, she glimpsed beads of sweat on his brow.
“Dylan, are you okay?”
He sank down, shrugged into his seat belt and tossed his head against the headrest. “I’ve been better.”
“Dizzy spell?” She clamped her own seat belt on.
“Nope, it’s just a little bit...crazy, isn’t it? I’m not feeling myself just yet.”
“That’s understandable, Dylan. You’ve been through a lot. But you handled them like a pro.”
He turned to her, shaking his head. “Maybe I should’ve kept you out of it. Your picture might just make the front page of some of those rags.”
“I did hear several questions shouted about the redhead.” A giggle sounding more like a hiccup escaped her mouth. She’d lived in Los Angeles long enough to know how desperate the paparazzi could be. “I noticed you ignored those.”
“Think they’d believe me if I said you were a friend of the family? Not on your life. Let ’em guess.”
“Yeah, let them guess.” Bet they’d never guess she’d been the one-night stand Dylan McKay had no memory of. Now, that was a story for the tabloids.
“Thank you for coming with me today. It made a difference having you here.”
She was his surrogate sister. She didn’t mind. Not today. “You know, I’m glad I came, too, and if I helped you in the process, that’s a bonus.”
“You did.” Dylan leaned over, gave her a sweet kiss that seemed to linger on her lips, then retreated to his seat and closed his eyes. “Thanks.”
She was pretty sure surrogate sisters didn’t get kisses like that.
In fact, she didn’t remember much about his kisses at all.
And that stumped her. A man like Dylan...well, a girl shouldn’t forget something like that, drunk on mojitos and in a blackout or not.
* * *
The Montalvo party went off without a hitch, except for one boisterous guest who’d gotten smashed on martinis and fallen off the top tier of the multilevel grounds. Luckily for him, it was only a five-foot drop and he’d fallen on a shelf of border boxwoods that pinched like the dickens but broke his fall and prevented major damage. After causing a momentary ruckus, the man sobered up real fast, skulked off like a pup with his tail between his legs, and the party picked up again from there.
Emma was proud of the display they’d put on for the fifties party and their company was hired on the spot by a theatre producer in attendance to host a similar event. It had been a win-win night.
She’d worked her butt off these past few weeks. Brooke had her head in the clouds after her date with Royce and they’d seen each other three times since. Emma didn’t mind picking up the slack, except that she’d been extremely tired and with her resistance down she managed to catch Brooke’s cold. Now both of them weren’t feeling well. But while Brooke had only sniffles and sneezes, Emma had an upset stomach, as well. She couldn’t look at food for days and even now the thought of eating anything but a piece of fruit made her tummy grumble. And the big golf tournament event was in just four days.
“Emma, get your ducks in a row,” she muttered. She lay on her bed praying for strength. A commercial for a big sloppy hamburger came on the television screen and she didn’t turn her head away in time. “Oh, God.” Her stomach soured instantly and her legs tangled in the sheets as she fumbled from bed and raced to the bathroom. She landed on her knees and made it to the toilet just as her stomach contracted.
Wonderful...just wonderful. After she flushed the toilet she sat back on her knees. The little energy she’d had this morning had seeped out of her. But the flu bug would not get her down. She wouldn’t miss their big charity event coming up. She grasped the bathroom counter for support and lifted herself up. Her head spun for a second, until finally her eyes focused and she mustered every ounce of strength to stay upright.
“Okay, Emma,” she whispered. “You can do this.”
Carefully, she stepped away from the sink. The merry-go-round in her head was gone. Thank you, Flu Gods. But just a second later gripping pain attacked her stomach. “Oh.” She held her belly and flew toward the toilet again. Sinking down onto the floor, she emptied everything into the porcelain bowl, until there was nothing left.
An hour later, after managing to climb her way back into bed, her body shaking, her bones weak, she clutched her cell and pushed Brooke’s number. “Hi,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
Brooke knew her so well.
“I’m down, Brooke. Can’t make it out of bed right now. The flu.”
“Oh, Em. I’m so sorry. I got you sick and now you’re getting the brunt of it. You sound terrible.”
“My stomach’s finally eased off, but it wasn’t pretty an hour ago. I’m so...tired. I’m gonna try to make it into the office later today.”
“No, you’re not. You need to stay in bed all day and rest. I’ve got things handled here. You know we’ve been right on schedule with this charity event. I just have a few last-minute things to take care of. You rest up and get better so you can make it on Friday.”
“Okay, I think you’re right.”
“Sleep. It’s the best thing for you.”
“Thanks, and, Brooke, no way am I missing this weekend.”
“I’ll come over later and bring you some soup.”
“Ugh, no. Just the thought of food right now turns my stomach.”
“All right. I’ll call you later.”
When the call ended, Emma turned her head into her pillow, closed her eyes and slept the entire day. She woke up bathed in a stream of dim light coming from the night-light on the opposite wall. She blinked herself awake. Outside, darkness had descended, but she was safe, protected. Since the night of the blackout, she kept night-lights on day and night in her apartment to keep from ever being alone in total darkness. She also now had an entire bedroom shelf devoted to pillar candles, scented and unscented. It didn’t matter, as long as they did the trick. She took them with her when she traveled, too, just in case, and had also started carrying a mini flashlight in her purse. Not that she couldn’t use her cell phone—someone had turned her onto a flashlight app, which came in handy—but cell phone batteries died on occasion and she couldn’t chance it.
A look at her cell phone now revealed that it was seven twenty-five. Wow, she’d slept for nine hours. Funny, but she didn’t feel rested at all. Or hungry. Just the thought of food made her queasy all over again.
Brooke called and they spoke for half an hour, going over the final details of the golf event, the dinner, dancing, silent auction and raffle. At two thousand dollars a head and with an expected one hundred fifty guests in attendance, there were lots of fine points to check on.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Brooke,” Emma said, feeling optimistic as she hung up the phone. Her stomach had eased back to normal and she figured she’d been through the worst of it.
By the morning of the next day, she knew that she’d figured wrong. She emptied her stomach twice before it settled down. She managed to go into the office, but once Brooke took a look at her pasty face, she ordered her back to bed. Emma didn’t have the strength to argue.
By Thursday morning, nothing had changed. She spent the morning in the bathroom next to her new best friend. Suspicions were running rampant in her head. What if she didn’t have the flu? What if there was something else wrong with her? Something permanent? Something rest and hot soup wouldn’t cure?
Eyes wide-open now, she fought the invading rumblings in her belly, quickly dressed and dashed to the local drugstore. Once she got back home, she peed on a stick at three different intervals of the day, only to get the same result each time. Opening her laptop, she keyed it up and researched a subject she thought would be years down the road for her.
She was as sure now as she would ever be; she had all the symptoms.
She was pregnant.
And Dylan McKay was her blackout baby’s father.
