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CHAPTER EIGHT

THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Emmy had a phone call that left her shrieking and dancing round the house. She called her mother, and then Dylan.

‘Sorry to ring you at work,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t wait to tell you—the magazine just rang. They loved my designs and they’re going to run the feature with me in it. Apparently what swayed them was the seahorse—which was your suggestion, so it’s all thanks to you.’

‘No worries,’ he said, sounding pleased for her. ‘But it was just a suggestion. You’re the one who did all the hard work.’

‘I’m going to stand you a decent meal to say thank you.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not cooking it myself, so you’re in no danger of getting rubbery monkfish again. Mum says she can babysit Ty on Friday or Saturday, whichever suits you best.’

‘Emmy, you don’t need to take me out.’

‘Yes, I do. You more than earned it, taking over all my duties and giving me the time to work, so don’t argue. We’ll sort out the time when you get home tonight, and I’ll book somewhere.’ She paused. ‘One last thing. They want to take a few shots of me here, at my workbench. Um, this afternoon. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘No, it’s fine. Do you need me back early to look after Tyler?’

‘Hopefully the photographer will be here while Tyler’s taking a nap. Or, if he wakes, it won’t matter if he’s in the shots. If that’s OK with you, that is.’

‘It’s fine,’ he said again. ‘I’ll see you later.’

* * *

The journalist arrived while Tyler was still awake, so Emmy made her a coffee and played with the baby while she answered questions, hoping that she didn’t come across as too flaky or too distracted. And Tyler decided to forego his nap, so when the photographer arrived—two hours later than they’d arranged—he ended up being in the shots.

They were halfway through the photo shoot when Dylan arrived.

‘Sorry—am I in the way?’ he asked, coming in to Emmy’s workroom.

‘No—we’re running late,’ Emmy said.

Tyler held out his hands to Dylan, who smiled and scooped him into his arms, then kissed him roundly. ‘Hello, trouble. Aren’t you supposed to be having a nap right now?’ he asked.

The baby gurgled and clapped his hands.

‘Come on. Let’s give Emmy some peace and quiet.’ He glanced over at Emmy, the journalist and the photographer. ‘I’m about to put the kettle on. Coffee?’

‘Thanks, that’d be great,’ Emmy said gratefully. ‘Oh, sorry, I haven’t introduced you. Dylan, this is Mike and Flo from the magazine. Flo, Mike, this is Dylan Harper.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Dylan said. ‘Milk or sugar?’

‘Just milk for me,’ Flo said.

‘Black, two sugars,’ Mike said.

‘Back in a tick,’ Dylan said, winked at Emmy, and whisked Tyler out of the workroom.

‘Wow, he’s gorgeous and domesticated. The perfect man,’ Flo said wistfully.

Just what Emmy was starting to think, though wild horses wouldn’t make her admit it, especially if there was a danger of Dylan overhearing her. ‘He has his moments,’ she said gruffly.

‘You’re just so lucky. This house, that cute baby, and that gorgeous man. And you’re talented as well. If you weren’t so nice, I’d have to hate you,’ Flo said.

‘Hang on—you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Ty’s not ours. Well, he is ours,’ Emmy said, ‘but we’re not his parents.’

‘Adopted? That’s lovely.’

‘We’re his guardians. We were his parents’ best friends.’ Emmy explained the situation with Ally and Pete as succinctly as she could. ‘Dylan and I just share a house and Ty’s care.’

Flo raised an eyebrow. ‘Just housemates—with the way you two look at each other? Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’

Oh, help. Emmy didn’t dare ask Flo to expand on that. Obviously she thought Dylan looked at her as if he were in love with her—which Emmy knew wasn’t the case. But she really hoped that she didn’t look at him as if she were mooning over him. Because she wasn’t. Was she? ‘We’re just...’ Her voice faded.

‘Good friends?’ Flo asked.

No. They weren’t. Though they were on the way to becoming friends. There was a real easiness between them nowadays. ‘Something like that,’ Emmy said carefully.

‘Gotcha.’ Flo tapped her nose. ‘So what does he do?’

‘He’s—well, I guess you’d call him a computer superguru,’ Emmy said.

Flo scribbled something on her notepad. ‘Clever as well as easy on the eye. Nice.’

‘Mmm.’ Emmy wriggled uncomfortably, and was relieved when the photographer asked her to pose for some more shots and Flo changed the subject back to her work. Something safe. Whereas Dylan Harper was starting to become dangerous.

* * *

On Saturday evening, her planned thank-you meal with Dylan felt more like a date. Which was crazy. Though of course she’d had to dress up a bit for it; she couldn’t just go out in her usual black trousers and a zany top.

And it felt even more like a date when the taxi arrived and her mother kissed them both goodbye at the door. ‘Don’t worry, Tyler’s in safe hands—just go out and enjoy yourselves. And don’t hurry back.’

Emmy felt almost shy with him, and she didn’t manage to make any small talk in the taxi. Neither did he, she noticed. Was it because he was a geek with no social skills, or was it because he felt the same kind of awkwardness that she did? The same kind of awareness?

‘Nice choice,’ Dylan said approvingly when they reached the small Italian restaurant she’d booked. ‘And I’m buying champagne. No arguments from you.’

Even though that was pretty much negating the point of the evening, it also broke the ice, and Emmy grinned. ‘When have you known me argue with you, Dylan?’ she teased.

He laughed back. ‘Not for a few weeks, I admit.’

‘I really appreciate your support over the article.’

‘You would’ve done the same for me,’ he pointed out.

‘Well, yes. But it’s still appreciated. You put yourself out.’

The waiter ushered them to their table, and the awkwardness returned. Emmy didn’t have a clue what to say to Dylan. This was ridiculously like a first date, where you knew hardly anything about each other. She’d lived with him for weeks now and knew a fair bit about what made him tick—what brightened his day, and what he needed before he could be human first thing in the morning—but at the same time he was still virtually a stranger. He hadn’t opened up to her about anything emotional. She knew nothing about his childhood or why his marriage broke up or what he really wanted out of life. He kept himself closed off. They were partners of a sort, stand-in parents to their godchild; and yet at the same time they weren’t partners at all.

The champagne arrived and Dylan lifted his glass in a toast. ‘To you, and every success in that magazine.’

‘Thank you.’ She lifted her own glass. ‘To you, and thanks for—well, being there for me.’

‘Any time.’

Given that Dylan didn’t have a clue how to be nice to people for the sake of it, she knew he meant it, and it made her feel warm inside.

‘It was good of your mum to babysit. She’s really nice,’ Dylan said.

Was she imagining things, or did he sound wistful? ‘Isn’t yours?’ she asked, before she could stop herself.

‘She travels a lot.’

Which told her precisely nothing. She could see that Dylan was busy putting up metaphorical barbed-wire fences with ‘keep out’ notices stuck to them, so she stuck with the safer topic. ‘You’re right, my mum’s really nice. I’m lucky because she’s always been really supportive.’ She sighed. ‘I just wish I could find someone for her who deserves her.’

Dylan raised an eyebrow. ‘Your mum’s single?’

She nodded. ‘I nag her into dating sometimes. So does her best friend, but she always turns down a second date with whoever it is, or agrees they’d be better off as just friends. I guess she’s never found anyone she really trusts.’

He sat and waited, and eventually Emmy found herself telling him the rest of it. ‘My father pretty much broke her heart. While they were married, he had a lot of affairs. Now I’m older, I can see that it chipped away at her confidence every time she found out he was seeing someone.’ Just as her own disastrous relationships had chipped away at her confidence, one by one. Every man who’d wanted to change something about her—and it had been a different thing, each time, until in the end the only thing she knew she was good at was her work.

She bit her lip. ‘The worst thing is, Mum always wanted more children after me but couldn’t have them. He refused to consider adoption or fostering. And then his current woman found out she was pregnant, and he left us for her. Mum felt she’d failed.’

* * *

Dylan knew exactly how it felt when your marriage failed and you were pretty sure it was all your fault. First-hand. And it wasn’t a good feeling. ‘It wasn’t your mum’s fault,’ he said. ‘I might be talking out of line, here, but sounds to me as if your dad was incredibly selfish.’ Just like his mother. He knew how that felt, too, realising that you were way down someone’s list of priorities. The amount of times he’d come home from school and let himself into a cold, empty house, and there was a note propped on the kitchen table telling him to go to his grandparents’ house because they’d be looking after him for a few days. Days that stretched into weeks.

‘My dad was incredibly selfish. He probably still is.’

‘Probably?’ Dylan was surprised. ‘Don’t you see him?’

‘He didn’t stay in touch with us, and for years I thought it was my fault that my parents split up. It was only later, when I’d left university and Mum told me what really went on when I was young, that I realised he was the one with the problem.’

And now Dylan understood why she’d accused him of breaking up his marriage because of an affair. She’d been caught in the fallout from her father’s affairs, and it clearly still hurt.

She blew out a breath. ‘I think he decided not to see me because whenever he did see me it reminded him of my mum, and that made him start to feel guilty about the way he treated her.’

‘So is that why you’re single? Because you don’t trust men?’ And that would certainly explain Spiky Emmy. It was clearly a defence mechanism, and it had definitely worked with him. He’d taken her at face value.

She frowned. ‘Not quite. I just have a habit of picking the wrong ones. Men who want to change me—everything from the way I dress, to what I do for a living. Nothing about me is right.’

At one point Dylan would’ve wanted Emmy to change—but now he knew her better and he understood what made her tick. And he knew that she wasn’t the woman he’d thought she was. ‘You’re fine as you are. There’s nothing wrong with what you do for a living. Or how you dress.’

‘I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m tired of dating men who can’t see me for who I am or accept me for that. I’m tired of dating men who are all sweetness and light for a couple of weeks, then start making little “helpful” suggestions. All of which mean me changing to fit their expectations, rather than them looking at their expectations and maybe changing them.’ She sighed. ‘It’s not that I think I’m perfect. Of course I’m not. I’m like everyone else, with good points and bad. I just wanted a partner who understands who I am and is OK with that.’

‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘you should’ve got Ally to vet your dates before you went out with them.’

‘I wish I had.’ She sighed. ‘The last one...’ She grimaced and shook her head. ‘No, I really don’t want to talk about him. But he was definitely my biggest mistake. And he was my last mistake, too. So if you’re worrying that I’m going to be flighty and disappear off with the first man who bats his eyelashes at me, leaving you to look after Tyler on your own, then don’t. Because I’m not. I’ve given up looking for Mr Right. I know he isn’t out there. My focus now is being there for Tyler while he grows up.’

‘So you’re not looking for a husband or a family, or what have you?’

‘No. But I have Tyler. That’s enough for me.’

Before they’d become co-guardians, the Emmy Jacobs Dylan knew was flighty as well as spiky. He’d disliked her because she’d reminded him so much of his mother. Selfish, always apologising for being late but never seeming sincere.

Now, he was seeing a different side of her. The way she looked after Tyler and put the baby’s needs first: she was definitely responsible. She was kind; without being intrusive, she’d worked out what he liked to eat and the fact that he loathed lentils, and changed her meal plans to suit. She was thoughtful. And she was fiercely independent; from what she’d just told him about her childhood, he could understand exactly why she wouldn’t want to rely on someone. She’d seen her mother’s heart broken and had learned from that.

And he didn’t want Spiky Emmy back. He liked the woman he’d got to know. More than liked her, if he was honest with himself. ‘I’m not worried at all,’ he said lightly. ‘You didn’t need to tell me that. I already know you’re not flighty.’

‘Oh.’ She looked slightly deflated, as if she’d been gearing up to have a fight with him and now she didn’t have to. ‘So what about you? Are you looking for Ms Right?’

‘No, I made enough of a mess of my marriage.’ And then he surprised himself by adding, ‘And it was my fault.’

‘How? You didn’t have an affair.’

‘Neither did Nadine.’

‘So what went wrong?’ She put a hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry. I know I shouldn’t ask you personal stuff.’

Absolutely. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings or his past. But he surprised himself even more by saying, ‘Given our situation, you probably ought to know. And I know you’re not going to gossip about me.’

‘Of course I’m not.’

‘Nadine and I—we wanted the same things, at first. A satisfying career, knowing we could reach the top of our respective trees. Neither of us wanted kids. Except then she changed her mind.’

‘And you didn’t?’

He shook his head. ‘She gave me an ultimatum: baby or divorce. So I picked the latter.’

She blew out a breath. ‘And now you’re in exactly that situation with Tyler—a stand-in dad. Though obviously you and I—we’re not...’

Her voice faded, and he wondered if she was thinking about that kiss. He most definitely was. He forced himself to focus. ‘Yeah.’ But his voice sounded slightly rusty to his ears. He hoped she wouldn’t guess why.

‘So does that mean...I mean, the three months are up in a couple of weeks. And you don’t want to...?’ She looked worried.

‘I’m glad you brought that up,’ he said. ‘It’s working for me. I think we’re a good team. I know we’re never going to be as good as Pete and Ally, and I for one still have a lot to learn about babies, but Tyler seems happy with us.’

‘Are you happy?’ she asked.

‘Yes. And I feel a bit guilty about it. I said I didn’t want to be a parent. But, actually, I’m enjoying it,’ he confessed. It was a relief to admit it out loud, at last. ‘I like coming home to a baby. I like seeing him change. I like hearing him babble and I like seeing his face when he tries something new.’

‘Me, too,’ she said softly.

‘So we keep going?’ he asked.

‘What about your ex?’

He grimaced. ‘As I said, I feel guilty. Maybe it could’ve worked, if I hadn’t been so stubborn. Or maybe it wouldn’t. I don’t know.’

‘Why didn’t you want a child?’ she asked.

He blew out a breath. ‘I just don’t. Didn’t.’

‘You mean, back off because you don’t want to talk about it?’ she asked wryly.

He was slightly surprised that she’d read him so well. ‘Yes. Tonight’s meant to be about toasting your success, not dragging through my failures. So, yes, I’d rather change the subject. I’m not the kind of guy who talks about my feelings and wallows in things,’ Dylan said. ‘I just get things done. With the social skills of a rhino.’

She gave him a rueful smile. ‘You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?’

‘No. Because, actually, it’s true,’ he said. ‘Anyway. The main thing is that we both know where we stand—we’re both single, and we’re both planning to stay that way. And we can just get on with looking after Tyler.’

‘Yeah.’ She raised her glass again. ‘To Tyler. I wish things could’ve been different—but I think we’re managing to be the next best option for him. Even if we do have to rely on looking things up in a book or asking my mum, half the time.’

‘Absolutely.’ He clinked his glass against hers. ‘To Tyler, and to being the best stand-in parents he could ever have.’

* * *

Somehow the awkwardness between them had vanished, and Emmy was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Dylan. And to discover that they had shared loves in music and places they wanted to visit.

She was beginning to see why Pete and Ally had made that decision, now. She and Dylan had their differences, which would be good for Tyler; but they also had much more overlap than either of them had ever imagined. She actually liked his company.

And she was shocked by how late it was when she finally glanced at her watch. ‘We’d better call a taxi. And I’d better ring Mum and let her know we’re on our way back.’

‘You ring your mum, and I’ll call the cab,’ Dylan said.

In the taxi, their hands kept brushing against each other, and it felt as if little electric shocks were running through her veins. Which was crazy. Dylan was the last man she could afford to be attracted to. This shouldn’t be happening.

But what if it did?

What if Dylan held her hand?

And then she stopped breathing for a second when his fingers curled round hers. Was he thinking the same as she was?

She met his gaze, and the remaining breath whooshed out of her lungs.

Yes. He was.

She wasn’t sure which of them moved first, but then his hand was cupping her cheek, hers was curled into his hair, and his mouth was brushing against hers. Slow, soft, gentle kisses. Exploring. Enticing. Promising.

He drew her closer and the kiss deepened. Hot enough to make her toes curl and her skin feel too tight. This was what she wanted. What they both wanted.

And then she was horribly aware of a light going on and someone coughing.

The taxi driver.

Clearly they were home. And they’d been caught in a really embarrassing position.

She looked at Dylan, aghast. Oh, no. This was a bad move. Yes, she wanted him and he wanted her. But what would happen when it all went wrong? Tyler would be the one who paid the price.

So they were going to have to be sensible about this. Stop it before it started.

‘Um. That shouldn’t have happened,’ she muttered, unable to look him in the eye.

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed, to her mingled relief and regret. ‘Blame it on the champagne. And it won’t happen again,’ he added.

Which ought to make her feel relieved. Instead, it made her feel miserable.

‘Go in. I’ll pay the driver.’

‘Thanks.’ She fled before she said or did anything else stupid. And tonight, she thought, tonight she’d have a cold shower and hope that her common sense came back—and stayed there.