The Playboy's Baby (7 page)

He dropped his hand to his lap. “I have to admit I don’t like how far away you live. Helena’s a good hour and a half’s drive. It’s not an easy, quick commute. It’s not like you’d drop her off at school in the morning and I’d pick her up. She’d have to be gone for a few days at a time. I’m not sure I like the idea of bouncing her back and forth between us. It’d be easier if you lived in town.”

She nodded. “I know. I’ll admit I haven’t figured out all the details yet.” She held his gaze, imploring him to understand. “I just can’t give her up.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” He offered a soft smile, the gentle understanding in his eyes instantly soothing ragged nerves.

He’d given her far more than expected. Once again, Dillon James showed her a side of him she was sure hadn’t existed before.

“Give me a few days to mull it over. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

She nodded, then reached out and settled her hand over his. “Thank you.”

She’d meant the gesture to be one of gratitude. He could easily call his lawyer and sue for sole custody. The lawyer she spoke with warned that, providing a DNA test proved him to be Annie’s father, he had the right to contest her guardianship. Emma didn’t want to go the legal route. She hoped they could settle this between themselves and was beyond grateful to discover that they had.

The gesture quickly became something else entirely. His warm skin against hers sent heated shivers that spread from the point of contact outwards.

Heat simmered in the depths of his eyes, and Dillon turned his hand over, palm up, and held it there in silent invitation. The longing in his gaze said he had very similar thoughts, and for a moment, Emma could only stare at his hand. Part of her yearned to take his hand. The more rational side of her brain screamed warnings at her.

Even before she fully made the conscious decision, her hand slipped into his. Their fingers tangled together, his palm warm and smooth in hers. The gesture provided a simple connection that soothed the lonely ache deep inside, but the feel of his skin sent her heart tripping in her chest. It beat out a wild, erratic rhythm. Those penetrating dark eyes held her captive, seemed to stare right down into her soul until she feared of losing herself in the infinite depths.

“Want to watch a movie?” Dillon’s quiet voice vibrated with the sweet tension of the moment, and desire flitted like butterflies through her belly.

Emma could only nod. She knew darn well she ought to pull away, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. His eyes rendered her defenseless and her mind rewound back to that night eight years ago. Despite better judgment, some part of her, deep inside, hoped for a repeat. A chance to be within the safety of that embrace one more time.

Her gaze drifted to his mouth. She denied it over the years, but sitting with him now Emma couldn’t ignore it. Eight years ago, sitting on her mother’s couch after the funeral, she was tempted to kiss him. Back then, it was a hopeless thought in a desperate moment. Those fathomless eyes promised her safety, security, and tenderness. She wanted to get lost in them, if only for a moment, to escape the incredible pain.

Now, she wanted, needed to know what true passion felt like. Passion with someone she knew would never hurt her.

“It’s a horror flick. Is that okay?” One corner of his mouth quirked up, breaking the sweet tension of the moment. “I’m afraid I don’t do chick flicks.”

His grin melted her insides and an answering smile spread. “I love horror actually. Nothing like a good scare.”

He smiled. There was a content, but slightly surprised look on his face. “Janey hated them. She never watched them with me, said they gave her nightmares.”

She let out a laugh, surprised and pleased by the ease that suddenly spanned between them. “Yeah, she used to tell me the same thing. I used to have to turn the TV down so she couldn’t hear it.”

He gave a quiet laugh and turned away from her. When he pushed off the sofa, his fingers slipped from hers. The loss of their warmth shuddered through her. After putting the DVD into the player, he sank to the sofa beside her again and reached for her hand. His gaze on the television, he threaded their fingers, pulling their joined hands onto his lap. Then he picked up a remote off a small table to his right and pushed a button to start the movie. He settled back, like they sat together this way all the time.

The moment had an odd comforting sense about it that set off warning bells. He fully admitted he didn’t do emotional attachments, and Emma knew darn well
she
couldn’t settle for anything less. Janey had been the free spirit, not her. She tried it once in high school. It had gotten her into trouble she almost wasn’t able to get out of. It ended in a night she’d never forget. She hadn’t ever had the guts to try something like that again.

On top of it all, the little voice in the back of her mind reminded her again that this man was her niece’s father. Her sister’s lover. She knew the awful word the boy called her that long ago night didn’t apply, but still it taunted her. What did it say about
her,
that she allowed this small measure of intimacy between her and Dillon?

At the same time, she couldn’t summon the will to pull her hand back. They continued to watch the movie, the awkwardness that started the night melting into a comfortable silence. She leaned against his shoulder, glad for the solid strength of him beside her. Dillon lifted his arm in silent invitation and Emma couldn’t resist snuggling against his side. His arm settled around her, becoming a welcome weight. A simple gesture she wanted to revel in, because here, with him, she didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Emma woke the next morning in the spare bedroom, the sounds of Annie’s happy, playful babbling filling the room. According to the bedside clock it was just after six, but glancing out the window she found stars still littered the sky.

She sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. Her last memory was of curling up beside Dillon. The movie hadn’t been that good and the day had worn her out. She didn’t remember falling asleep, let alone getting up and coming to bed. Dillon must have carried her.

The thought brought heat curling low in her belly and the night came rushing back. She couldn’t forget the feel of his arm around her. Such a simple thing, yet so profound.

Things were shifting between them. The hard edge was softening. Her heartbeat sped up at the thought of seeing him this morning. How would he react to last night? What look would flash across his candid brown eyes when he saw her? Seeing his soft side left her conflicted. What else lay beneath the façade? Those were very dangerous ponderings. The last thing she needed was to get involved right now, least of all with her sister’s best friend and lover.

Pushing the thoughts from her mind, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then rose from the bed and crossed to the crib. Hands on the railing, she bent over it. “Morning, sweet girl.”

Chubby little cheeks spread into a wide grin. At six months old, she now had four teeth, all gleaming at Emma when Annie cooed, holding her arms out.

“Come on, pretty girl.” She scooped her up and laid her on the bed. After changing her diaper, she settled Annie on a hip. “Let’s go make you some breakfast.”

When they entered the kitchen, a piece of paper taped to a cabinet above the coffeemaker caught her attention. Her name was scrawled across the top in Dillon’s careful handwriting.

EM—

Make yourself at home. Coffee’s in this cabinet, mugs are to the right of the sink.

She couldn’t help grinning. Only a fellow coffee addict would be sure to tell someone where to find the goods.

Janey told me once you liked bagels, so I stopped by the store while you slept. They’re in the fridge. Please call Doctor Marley and make an appointment. Not too early. I’m usually not up before noon.

—Dillon

On the bottom of the note was a phone number she assumed to be the doctor’s.

She smiled, unable to help wondering how late
he
stayed up last night. That he remembered she liked bagels touched her. More so that he actually went out to get her some, in the middle of the night, no less. After setting Annie on the floor where she could keep an eye on her, Emma went about the task of making breakfast for the two of them. She found the bagels in the fridge and set one into the toaster. Then she brewed coffee for herself and prepared Annie a bottle and a small bowl of baby cereal.

At half past eleven, she was getting Annie ready for a nap when the sounds of running water came from the back of the house. The water turned off by the time she’d settled a sleeping Annie down into her crib. Walking back to the kitchen to clean up the lunch dishes, Emma tried her hardest not to envision Dillon completely naked in his room.

She stopped cold when she emerged from the hallway. Dillon stood in front of the coffeepot, spooning grounds into the brew basket wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his lean hips.

“Morning, Em.” His tone was so casual she almost wanted to laugh.

“Um…hi,” were the only words that would leave her desert-dry throat.

She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down, unable to stop her gaze from sliding over him. Every inch of the man looked to be solid muscle, from the wide expanse of his shoulders and back down to the thick thighs peeking out from the bottom of the towel.

“I’m making coffee. You want some?”

She ducked her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, and counted to ten in a vain attempt to force her overheated mind to focus.

“Em?”

At the clear question in his voice, she opened her eyes and looked up at him, only to wish she hadn’t. Dillon had twisted at the waist to face her. His chest was a solid wall of smooth, contoured muscle. A patch of dark hair sprouted between his pecs. A line of softer, finer hair ran down the center of his stomach and disappeared beneath the towel. God help her. The man had a six-pack.

Focus!

“No.” Did her voice squeak? She cleared her throat. “No coffee. Thank you.”

He nodded and turned, crossing to the fridge. There, he pulled out a water pitcher and moved back to the coffeemaker. She swallowed hard and tried not to follow his trek across the room. Tried not to focus on the way the muscles in his back and arms shifted and bunched when he lifted the pitcher.

Or how very much she wished that towel would lose its grip on his waist.

Oh, God. She had to distract herself. She shouldn’t be thinking about him this way.

Say something. Anything.
“Thanks for the bagels. And for putting me to bed.”

“You’re welcome. Couldn’t leave you to sleep on the couch.” Dillon shot a smile over his shoulder while he filled the coffeemaker with water. “Always gives me a crick in the neck. Did you call Doctor Marley’s office this morning by any chance?”

She cleared her throat and pinned her gaze to the back of his head. Her heart running a marathon in her chest, she forced herself to move into the room. She couldn’t very well stand there and ogle him. “We have an appointment at one. Annie should be up from her nap by then.”

Stepping up to the sink beside him, his clean soapy smell drifted to her. She longed to lean over and discover the scent on his skin. The image flashed in her mind in vivid detail. Dillon in the shower, water pouring over his naked flesh…

Heat crept into her cheeks, and she jerked her gaze to the sink. She wrenched the faucet, sending water pouring into the metal basin. She tried to concentrate on soaping the sponge and scrubbing at the small pile of dishes. It gave her hands and mind something to do, but if he didn’t get dressed soon, she’d have to resort to cleaning the entire kitchen.

He leaned back against the counter beside her, hands gripping the edge. She didn’t dare turn and look at him. To do so would be tempting fate. Right then, her hands itched to touch him.

“After we’re done at the doctor’s, if you’re up for it, I’d like to go get a crib, along with anything else you think we’ll need.”

Wait a minute, he said “we.” Surprised, she looked over at him. “You’re making a home for her.”

“Shouldn’t I?”

She turned back to the sink and ran a dish under the water to rinse off the soap. “Just surprised is all. Given all the things Janey told me about you, I wasn’t expecting you to take this so well.”

“You expected me to turn away my own flesh and blood.”

A flush heated her cheeks. “Well, when you say it like that, it does seem rather harsh, but yes. I didn’t expect you to actually want a child.”

The coffeemaker sputtered and Dillon pushed away from the counter. He moved around her, opened the cabinet beside the sink, and pulled down a mug. “There are a lot of things about me that would likely surprise you. You ought to try judging me based on my actions.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “We grew up together, remember? You and Janey were pretty wild there for a while.”

He made a sound of disapproval, and Emma glanced over at him. He stood scowling at the counter, shaking his head.

Dillon turned that scowl on her. “Things aren’t always what they seem.”

Then he pivoted and moved around her.

She followed his trek back to the coffeemaker, where he filled his mug with the rich, steaming liquid.

“What do you mean?”

He turned his head and pinned her with an intense gaze again, but this time he leaned down, until they were nose to nose. “Just once, I’d like to see you stop making assumptions about me. I didn’t get your sister into all that trouble. Janey found it all by herself.”

Emma met his gaze, narrowed her eyes, and squared her shoulders. “You were right there with her. You can’t deny that. Every time I found Janey getting into trouble, it was usually with you. Like the time the two of you took my mother’s car out joyriding?”

He straightened but his gaze didn’t waver. “Mmm. Because I didn’t like the thought of what might happen if I let her go off by herself. Your sister could find trouble in church.”