One Secret Night, One Secret Baby

by Charlene Sands

  “You’ll look beautiful, Em,” he said and started the engine.

  “You’re really okay with all of this, then?” she asked. He’d taken the news well and never once balked or hesitated when she’d revealed her pregnancy to him. It had been full steam ahead—they were having a baby together. Emma didn’t quite understand his immediate acceptance, though she’d been grateful for it.

  “I...am. I’ve always wanted to be a father. Just never found the right—”

  He caught himself, but Emma knew what he was going to say. He’d never found the right woman to carry his child. Well, that decision had been taken out of his hands. She wasn’t the right woman, but he was stuck with her. And she supposed that he was making the best of it.

  He’d been attentive and had taken her on a date every night since that first one. One night they’d gone for ice cream at a local creamery, a place that Dylan’s friend owned. They’d snuck in the back way and had taken a corner table, Dylan disguised in a Dodgers ball cap and sunglasses. The next night they’d gone to a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, Dylan scoring front row seats, and they’d gone in through a VIP entrance. Each time they went out, Dylan’s bodyguards weren’t far behind. It was kind of eerie knowing their every move was being watched, but as Dylan explained, it came with the territory.

  She enjoyed her evenings with Dylan. And each night after their date, they’d wind up in bed together—sometimes in his gorgeous master suite and sometimes at her tiny apartment. They were growing closer each day, and getting to know one another on a different level. Dylan was kind and tender and as sexy as a man had a right to be. There were times when they were making love that she’d actually have to gasp for breath and remind herself this was really happening.

  She had fallen in love with him. Truly and madly, and it had probably happened the night of their movie date. She’d always been halfway in love with him as a teen, but this was different. This was based on actually knowing him and spending time with him. It probably hadn’t hurt that her orgasms were off the charts when they made love. Or that he was the father of her baby. Or that they shared a hometown history together.

  But every morning, when she’d wake in his arms, he would plant a bug in her ear. “Move in with me, Em. We could have all our nights and mornings like this.”

  It was a tempting offer, one that she debated for long moments, but ultimately always refused because, like it or not, she wasn’t ready to give up her independence. To give Dylan her one last means of defense against heartbreak. He wanted to keep his baby safe and close at hand. She understood that, and it was a noble gesture, but what did that say about her relationship with him? It was what Dylan was not saying to her that fueled her resolve to stay out of harm’s way.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t want to, Em,” he’d say. And she’d shrug her shoulders and shake her head. This was new to him, this constant rejection. He wasn’t conceited or arrogant, but he’d been used to having women fall at his feet, she supposed, and he didn’t understand her reluctance.

  “I just can’t, Dylan,” would be her answer.

  After the doctor’s appointment, they went to lunch at a little private beach eatery and sat outside on benches facing the ocean. She had chicken salad and he had halibut in drawn butter. Afterward, Dylan dropped her off at the office. “Don’t work too hard,” he said, giving her a kiss.

  “Never,” she said, and he tossed his head back and laughed. He knew she was a workhorse, never settling until things were perfect and under control. He would tease her about that all the time. “You, either,” she shot back.

  “I won’t. I’ll be learning my lines for tomorrow’s shoot. Which reminds me, the next two days will run long. We’re having night shoots. I won’t be home until after your bedtime. I’ll miss you.”

  She smiled. “Me, too.”

  His eyes dipped to her belly. “Take care of the little bambino.”

  “Always,” she said, placing her hand there protectively. Touching her stomach and greeting the little one, warming to him or her and the idea of a baby, had become a habit.

  She climbed out of the car, waved goodbye, and then he was off. She wouldn’t see him for the next few days. Maybe that was a good thing. She watched him drive into the traffic stream before stepping into the office.

  “Hey, how did the appointment go?” Brooke asked, gazing up from her desk.

  “Wonderful. Everything is good.”

  Brooke grinned. “Great. I can’t wait to find out if it’s a boy or girl. I’m making up a shopping list and already have three my-auntie-is-the-best outfits picked out. Now, just gotta know if I’m buying blue or pink.”

  Brooke was definitely going to spoil the baby. “It’ll be fun finding out.”

  “Yeah, but for now, I’m just happy knowing the baby’s healthy.”

  Brooke rose from her desk and approached her. “Things are working out with Dylan, aren’t they?” she asked. “I mean, you sound happy. You look happy and well. I know you’ve been dating, hot and heavy.”

  “Hot and heavy?” Emma’s laughter sounded a little too high-pitched even to her ears and Brooke caught on immediately.

  “Wow, so it’s true. You and my brother are hooking up.”

  Well, yeah, she supposed they were. He’d asked her to move in with him several times, but never with any true sense of commitment. Was that what she was waiting for? Some hope, some sign that he wanted her, and not just because she was going to give birth to his child? Maybe what she wanted from Dylan was impossible for him to give. “Brooke, I have no name for what’s happening between Dylan and me.”

  “At least something is happening.” Excitement sparkled in Brooke’s eyes.

  “Maybe you should concentrate on your relationship with Royce,” Emma countered, giving her BFF a wry smile.

  “Oh, believe me, I do.” Brooke giggled. “We’re heading to hot and heavy, too.”

  “Wow, you two are moving fast.”

  Brooke sighed. “I know. It’s crazy, but we’re in tune with each other on every level.”

  “I’m happy for you.”

  “Thanks. Now, on to work issues. We’ve got the Henderson anniversary party on Friday night and then we’ve got Clinton’s seventh birthday party in Beverly Hills all day Saturday. Which one do you want to confirm?”

  “I’ll take Clinton’s party. I’ve made special arrangements for the petting zoo and the cartoon characters to show up and I’ve got the cake and food already set. I’ll double-check it’s a go, and you can make your confirmations for the anniversary gig.”

  “Okay, sounds good. It’s going to be a busy weekend. Are you sure you’re up for it?”

  “I’m sure.” Emma had been operating at 90 percent and feeling better every day. Dylan had been keeping her plenty busy at night, too, exhausting her in a good way. She’d been sleeping soundly and waking feeling sated and refreshed, but the thought of not seeing him for the next few nights suddenly cast a shadow of loneliness on her perspective.

  How odd. Usually she valued her downtime and enjoyed being on her own.

  “Oh, yeah,” Brooke said, making a face. “I almost forgot to tell you, Maury Allen called today. Seems his event planner for Callista’s big birthday bash had a family emergency and he can’t continue the work. He wants us to take over. It’s in two weeks.”

  “You told him no, didn’t you?” Emma held her breath.

  Brooke scrunched her face even more. “Well,” she squeaked. “I couldn’t do that. He used Dylan’s name as a reference and made it seem like my brother recommended us to him. He’s Dylan’s boss and he said everything’s pretty much done. All we have to do is show up and make things run smoothly.”

  “Brooke!”

  “I know. But he took me by surprise and I didn’t think I could worm out of it.”

&
nbsp; “Couldn’t his planner get someone else from their company to step in?”

  She shook her head. “They’re all booked solid. And we’re not. His secretary is overnighting the signed vendor contracts and the itinerary so we know what’s planned.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s just wonderful.”

  “Sorry.” To Brooke’s credit, she did seem genuinely apologetic. “You don’t have to go. I’ll get Wendy or Rocky to help out.”

  “Knowing Callista, it’s going to be a giant production. You’re going to need me.”

  Brooke ducked her head and looked sheepish. “I think you may be right.”

  Shoulders tight and arms crossed, Emma leaned against the wall and sent a disgruntled sigh out to the universe. “I guess I was destined to go to this thing.”

  “Destined? What do you mean?”

  “Dylan asked me to go to Callista’s party as his date. He said he wanted company in his misery, but I flat out refused. The woman barely gets my name right.”

  Brooke chuckled. “Just call her Callie, like I do. You know what they say about payback.”

  “I can’t do that. She’s our client now.”

  “Her father’s our client.”

  “It’s practically the same thing,” Emma said. “She’s got him wrapped around her diamond-ringed finger.”

  “True, but I wish I could be there when she...”

  Brooke’s expression was way too mischievous for Emma’s curiosity. “What?”

  “When she finds out you’re carrying Dylan’s child.”

  “Brooke! You’re not going to say a thing. Promise me.”

  She glanced at Emma’s belly bump and smiled. “I promise. But maybe I won’t have to say anything. Maybe she’ll find out on her own. Now, that would be worth the price of admission.”

  Emma couldn’t suppress a smile. She grinned along with her friend. “You’re wicked.”

  “Yes, and that’s why you love me.”

  Seven

  Emma dragged herself through the door on Saturday evening, her twenty-five-year-old bones aching. She was too tired to make it to her bedroom. She tossed her handbag onto the sofa, then plopped down next to it. The well-worn cushions welcomed her and she put her feet up on the coffee table. Stretching out, she closed her eyes.

  Little Clinton’s birthday party had done her in. It had gone fairly well for a seven-year-old’s party, though there’d been a few potential disasters in the making. One of the goats in the petting zoo had escaped the pen and begun nibbling on the party decorations. The kids thought it hilarious, until the darn goat made a dash for the cupcake table and nearly downed the whole thing. Emma screamed for the zookeeper to do something, and he’d looked up oblivious to the goings-on from across the yard, giving her no choice but to navigate the stubborn animal back to the pen herself.

  But that was an innocent mistake, unlike the guy dressed in a furry purple character costume. Judging by the way he was walking, the guy must have been intoxicated. It was either that or balancing himself in the costume was too much for him. She’d kept her eyes peeled on him for the entire day and thankfully he didn’t cause any trouble.

  Then there was the incident at the taco bar. The kids took one bite of their tacos and their little mouths were set on fire from too much chipotle sauce added to the meat. Emma escorted those kids right over to the snow cone machine. Rainbow ice doused the flames and put smiles on their faces again. Disaster averted, but not before Emma scolded the cook. What had he been thinking?

  Emma leaned forward and did slow head circles, first one way, then the other. The stretch and pull felt good, easing away a full day’s worth of tension. Her cell phone rang and she had a mind not to answer it, but as she glanced at the screen name, she smiled and picked up. “Hi, Dylan.”

  “Hi,” he said in that low, masculine tone that made her dizzy. “What are you doing?”

  “Just putting my feet up. It’s been a long day.”

  “Tired?”

  “Yeah, pretty much. What are you doing?”

  “Driving by your apartment.”

  “You are?” She bolted straight up, her heartbeat speeding.

  “Yeah, I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were up to company. If you’re too tired, I’ll just keep on driving.”

  God, just the sound of his voice roused her out of exhaustion. It had been three days since she’d seen him. He’d been constantly on her mind. “I’m not too tired.”

  “You sure? You sound wiped out.”

  “I’m...not.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  A soft flow of warmth spread through her body. Her hormones were happy now. Beautifully, wonderfully happy.

  Just minutes later, she opened the door and he walked straight into her arms. He lifted her off the ground as he kissed her and moved her backward to the sofa, setting her down and taking a seat next to her. “I’m not staying. I just wanted to see you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

  “I’m glad. I, uh, I wanted to see you, too.” It was always hard admitting how she was feeling toward Dylan. She wasn’t playing hard to get. She was running scared, frightened that this big bubble of joy would pop at any moment.

  “How was your day?”

  “Chasing goats and kids and keeping parents happy, just a usual Saturday afternoon fun day.”

  Dylan smiled. “You love it.”

  “I do. I’m not complaining.” It was what she was meant to do. She enjoyed every facet of event planning. Though it was a hassle at times and deadlines could be gruesome, the end result, a successful party, was her reward. She couldn’t imagine having a nine-to-five job, although she thoroughly enjoyed keeping the books and managing the accounts, too.

  Dylan grasped her hand and brought it to his knee. It was as natural as breathing for him to hold on to her this way. “I’m glad you’re in business with my sister.”

  “Me, too. I think our talents complement each other. She’s the creative one and I’m the practical one.”

  “You work hard. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look exhausted.”

  She sighed. “There’s no fooling you.”

  “I’m quite perceptive.” He smiled at her and his sea-blue eyes softened. “Turn around.”

  “What?”

  “Turn your back to me and try to relax.”

  “Okay.”

  She angled away from him on the sofa and then his hand gently moved her hair off her shoulders. It fell in a tangle on her right side. Next, he placed both hands on her shoulder blades and began a firm but soothing massage. The tension was released immediately, and as he worked the kinks out and moved farther down her back, she closed her eyes. “Oh, that feels good,” she cooed.

  “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

  His hands on her body were a comforting, soothing presence lifting her spirits, a balm for her tired bones.

  “Why don’t we take this into the bedroom,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear. “Where you can stretch out and really relax.”

  She turned to face him.

  “Just a massage, I promise. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  And then she was being lifted and carried toward her bedroom. Her independence had flown the coop the minute Dylan had shown up. But she loved his inner he-man and the way he took control of a situation. It was amazingly sexy.

  She played with the curl of hair resting on his nape. “You don’t have to make deals with me, Dylan.”

  “Don’t tempt me. I know how tired you are and let’s leave it at that.”

  She nodded.

  A slender shaft of light from the courtyard illuminated her bedroom window. Dylan lowered her to a standing position by her bed and moved behind
her. With one hand on either side of her back, he inched her blouse up and over her head, tossing it onto the nightstand. Then he helped to remove her slacks. Down to a white bra and panties, she kicked off her shoes and turned to face him.

  There was a sharp rasp of breath as he looked at her. “This isn’t going to be as easy as I thought,” he muttered in a tortured tone. “Lie down. I’ll be right back.”

  Emma pulled her sheets back and lowered down onto her tummy, resting her head on her pillow. When Dylan returned, he held a bottle of raspberry vanilla essential oil. “This okay to use?”

  She nodded and closed her eyes. She heard the sound of his hands slapping together as he warmed the oil and then felt the dip of the mattress as he sat beside her. “Ready?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He spread the oil onto her skin, his touch light and generous as he rubbed every inch of her back. The pleasing scents of raspberry and vanilla wafted to her nostrils in the most delicious way. Using his thumbs, Dylan pressed the small of her back in circular motions, his fingers resting on the slope of her behind. She tingled there and her breath caught noisily. This was quickly becoming more than a massage and almost more intimate than having sex with Dylan. He removed his fingers, using his thumbs to walk up her spine.

  “Oh, so nice,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Too much.”

  She grinned and endorphins released merrily through her body.

  He lifted his hands off her back and again she heard the smack of his hands as he warmed the oil. Next, he worked her legs, starting at her ankles, gliding his hands up and down, around and around, bringing new life to her tired limbs. First one calf, then the other, and then he was inching his hands up the backs of her thighs. He slowed his pace and stopped for a moment.

  “Dylan?”

  “I’m okay,” he said, his voice quietly pained.

  “This isn’t supposed to make you tense.”

  “Too late for that, sweetheart. Just relax and enjoy.”

  But there was something too tempting, too genuine in his voice for her to sit back and take this without giving something back. She shifted her position, landing on her back. One look at his gorgeous face, his gritted teeth and set jaw had her gaze moving down below his waist. She wasn’t surprised to see the strain of material in his pants.