Harlequin Romance September 2013 Bundle: Bound by a BabyIn the Line of DutyPatchwork Family in the OutbackStranded with the Tycoon

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Harlequin Romance September 2013 Bundle: Bound by a BabyIn the Line of DutyPatchwork Family in the OutbackStranded with the Tycoon Page 7

by Kate Hardy


  ‘Pleasure,’ he responded automatically. And he stifled the thought that actually, it was a pleasure, seeing her made happy by such a little thing.

  He’d surprised himself, offering to change the rota so she could do her weekly classes. And she’d surprised him by immediately offering to do the same for him. Why had he ever thought her selfish, when she so obviously believed in fairness? Had he just read her wrong in the past, and it had snowballed to the point where it was easier to dislike her than to wonder if he’d got it wrong? Not wanting to think about his burgeoning feelings, he said, ‘I’ve been talking to Pete’s parents about the funeral. They’d like it to be in the same church where Pete and Ally got married.’

  She nodded. ‘Ally’s parents said the same.’

  ‘Good. It makes it easier that they agree.’ He paused. ‘But Pete’s parents also said they want the wake at the house rather than in a hall somewhere.’

  ‘So we’ll have to cater it, you mean?’

  He nodded.

  She blew out a breath. ‘Then I vote we get the local deli to do as much of it as possible, so all we have to do is lay stuff out on serving platters on the dining room table. And I’ll rope my mum in to help. Between us we can manage the drinks.’

  There was no point in asking his mother to help. Dylan couldn’t remember whether she was in India or Bali, but he knew she was on retreat somewhere, and he also knew from experience that she wouldn’t allow anything to interrupt that. Even if her only child really needed her help. He’d learned that one at a pretty early age. ‘Right,’ he said shortly.

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘Is everything OK, Dylan?’

  ‘Yes.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Just this whole thing...I still can’t quite get my head around it. I still keep thinking Pete’s going to walk through the door and ask us if we missed him.’

  ‘Me, too,’ she said. ‘Ally’s the first person really close to me I’ve lost. I guess it’s a normal reaction, but I wonder when I’m going to stop missing her.’

  ‘You don’t stop missing her. You just get better at dealing with it.’

  She said nothing, just looked at him. Those wide grey eyes were full of empathy rather than pity, so he found himself unexpectedly telling her the rest. ‘My grandmother. She died last year. It’s little things that catch you—a bit of music that reminds me of her, or walking past someone who’s wearing the same perfume. Or seeing something in the shop that I know she’d love, and suddenly remembering that she’s not going to be here for her birthday or Christmas so there’s no point in buying it.’

  She reached over and squeezed his hand. Just long enough to let him know that she understood and sympathised, but not long enough to be cloying. Weird. He hadn’t expected to actually start liking Emmy.

  He gave her the smallest, smallest smile. ‘I’ll talk to the vicar and sort that side of it out. The funeral directors just want a decision on the casket. Can I ask you to sort the food and drink?’

  ‘Sure. Does anything else need doing?’

  ‘I’m doing a eulogy for Pete. Do you want to do one for Ally?’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could stand up there and do it. I would...’ She paused, clearly swallowing back a sob. ‘Well, I don’t want to let her down by crying through it. She deserves more than that.’

  He’d done enough presentations in his time to be able to get through it. ‘I’ll do it for you, if you like. Just tell me what you want to say and I’ll read it out.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘No problem.’

  ‘I could do a wall, though,’ she said. ‘I could scan in some of the photographs from when they were small, as well as the digital ones I’ve got from more recent years. We could talk to their parents and get their favourite memories as well.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. I’ll talk to Pete’s again while you talk to Ally’s?’

  ‘That works for me.’

  ‘I think they’d like to stay at the house, that night,’ Dylan said. ‘I was thinking, it wouldn’t be fair for either couple to stay in Pete and Ally’s room.’

  ‘You’re right,’ she agreed. ‘It’s my night on call, so I can use a sleeping bag in Tyler’s room.’

  ‘And I’ll take the sofa,’ he said.

  Funny how their minds were in tune on this one.

  Would they be in tune in other ways, too? The thought crept insidiously into his head and lodged there, and even though he tried to block it out he couldn’t help being aware of just how attractive Emmy actually was.

  She leaned down to touch the sleeping baby’s cheek. ‘You’ll definitely know your mum and dad, Ty. Dylan and I, we have photographs and memories, all sorts of things we can share with you when you’re older. Your mum did a “This Is Your Life” book for me when I was thirty, and I can do something like that for you of her.’

  ‘I’ll chip in with stuff about your dad,’ he said, touching Tyler’s other cheek.

  They shared a glance and Dylan wondered—did it have to take the death of our best friends for us to get along? It was odd how easily they’d fallen into teamwork—since they’d moved into the house, he hadn’t sniped once and neither had she—and he was shocked to realise that he actually liked her. A lot. Emmy was funny, clever, good company. How had he never noticed that before?

  * * *

  Emmy just about managed to get through the funeral, though she couldn’t help bawling her eyes out during ‘Abide With Me’. The bit about where was Death’s sting always got to her. ‘Amazing Grace’ put a lump in her throat as well, and when the church echoed to Eva Cassidy singing ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ there wasn’t a dry eye anywhere.

  Though she was glad that everyone was wearing bright colours rather than black, to celebrate Ally and Pete’s life and the precious memories. It was important to share the good stuff as well as mourn them. To give them a decent send-off.

  Tyler was an angel.

  And Dylan was amazing.

  He was sitting in the front row, next to her; when he stood up to do the eulogies from the pulpit, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. Even though the tears were spilling down her cheeks as he spoke the words she’d written about her best friend.

  She hugged him when he returned to his seat. ‘You did a fantastic job,’ she whispered. ‘Just perfect.’

  * * *

  Dylan returned the hug, even though bits of him worried that he quite liked the feel of Emmy in his arms. He dismissed it simply as grief coming out. He wasn’t attracted to Emmy Jacobs.

  Ha—who was he trying to kid? Of course he was.

  But he couldn’t act on that attraction, for Tyler’s sake. Getting involved with Emmy would make everything way too complicated. It would be better to keep his distance, the way he always did.

  Friends neither he nor Emmy had seen since university days had come to the funeral. Back at the house, everyone was talking about the room divider Emmy had made with the photographs, sharing memories and the house echoed with as much laughter as tears.

  The food was working out, too. Emmy was bustling around, sorting out the drinks and topping up the empty plates. Her mum had helped out and done way, way more than his own mother would’ve done if she’d been there. Between the three of them, they’d managed to handle this.

  Finally everyone went and the clearing up started.

  ‘You look really tired,’ Emmy said gently to Ally’s and Pete’s parents. ‘Why don’t you go and lie down for a bit? Dylan and I can sort all this out.’

  ‘We can’t leave you to do all this, love,’ Ally’s dad said.

  ‘Yes, you can. It’s been a really tough day for us all, and I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for you. You need some rest. I’ll bring you up a cup of tea in a minute.’

 
‘Thank you, love,’ Pete’s mum said.

  Again, Dylan found himself marvelling. Pete and Ally’s parents clearly knew Emmy well and liked her. He was beginning to think that he was the one who was totally out of step. She’d been brilliant today. He made a mental note to cut her more slack in future.

  Emmy’s mum stayed to help, then kissed Emmy goodbye and, to Dylan’s surprise, gave him a hug. ‘Take care of yourself and call me if you need me, OK? That goes for both of you. Any time.’

  He found himself envying Emmy’s closeness to her mum. If only his own mother had been like that, maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe he would’ve known how to really love someone and not made such a mess of his marriage. Though he appreciated the way Emmy’s mother had included him. How would Emmy have got on with his family? He had a feeling that Emmy would’ve liked his gran, and his gran would’ve liked Emmy.

  And this was dangerous territory. He couldn’t let himself think about this.

  Emmy put Tyler to bed while he finished moving all the furniture back. Then she took a tray up to Pete and Ally’s parents with tea and sandwiches.

  When she came back down, Dylan noticed that she looked upset.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘They’re not coming down again today. I think it’s exhausted all of them.’ She bit her lip. ‘It’s so wrong, having to bury your child. It isn’t the natural order of things. I really feel for them. Today they all seemed to age ten years in a matter of seconds. Did you see Ally’s dad walking into church? He had to hold on to the side of the pew until he composed himself. It’s not that long ago he was walking down that aisle with Ally on his arm in that gorgeous fishtail dress, and you and Pete were waiting at the altar.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember,’ Dylan said softly. ‘And you’re right. Burying a parent must be hard, but it’s more the natural order. Burying your child must be the worst feeling in the world.’

  ‘And there’s nothing we can do to make it better.’ Her voice cracked and she looked anguished.

  ‘I know, but I think we did Pete and Ally proud,’ he said. ‘Everyone was here celebrating them.’

  She nodded. ‘You’re right. I think it’s what they would’ve wanted.’

  He wandered over to look at the photos on the divider, and saw the one of Emmy and Ally together as students.

  ‘Your hair looks absolutely terrible. Whatever made you dye it blue?’

  She came to join him and shrugged. ‘I was a design student. We all did that sort of thing back then.’

  ‘It looks nice now. Obviously it’s not your natural colour but it suits you. It brings out your eyes.’ He reached out to brush a lock of hair from her face.

  ‘Careful, Dylan. Anyone might think we were on the way to being friends, with you paying me compliments like that.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘Maybe we are.’

  She dragged in a breath. ‘I wish it hadn’t taken Ally and Pete to die before we started to see—well, what they saw in us.’

  ‘Me, too.’ He gave her a crooked smile. ‘We can’t change the past. But, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry I misjudged you. You’re not the needy, flaky mess I thought you were.’

  Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I’m sorry I misjudged you, too. You’re still a bit judgemental, and you open your mouth before you think about what’s going to come out of it. You might have the social skills of a rhino, but you do have a heart.’

  Did he? Sometimes he wasn’t so sure. He’d built so many walls around it that it was lost.

  She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Now I’m being wet. Ignore me.’

  ‘It’s OK. I’m not that far off crying, myself,’ he admitted. He looked at her. ‘Do you want a glass of wine?

  She nodded.

  ‘Me, too. Come on.’

  He poured them each a glass of wine and then put some soft piano music on before curling up on the opposite end of the sofa to her. Her toes touched his ankle, but it didn’t make him want to pull away. Weirdly, he felt more comfortable with her now, on one of the saddest days of his life, than he ever had before.

  ‘I like this. What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Einaudi. You work to classical music, don’t you?’

  ‘Vivaldi—not “the Four Seasons”, because that’s been overplayed to the point where I find it almost impossible to listen to it, but I like his cello concerti. They’re calming and regular, good to work to.’

  ‘I was looking at your website,’ he said. ‘You’re very talented.’

  She looked surprised, but inclined her head in acknowledgement of the compliment. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But you could really do with a proper stock management program. I’ve written one and tested it for you. Let me know your admin password, and I’ll install it for you.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘You’ve written me a program?’

  ‘It’s only a simple one.’ He flapped a dismissive hand. ‘It’s pretty intuitive, so it won’t take you five minutes to get to grips with it.’

  ‘You’ve actually written me a program.’ Tears glittered in her eyes.

  He shrugged, feeling awkward. ‘It’s no big deal, Emmy. It wasn’t that time-consuming.’

  ‘But you still made the time to do it. Which is amazing, especially as we’ve both got all these new responsibilities and we’re adjusting to all the changes in our lives.’ She dragged in a breath. ‘Thank you, Dylan.’

  ‘It was entirely selfish of me,’ he said. ‘If it makes your life easier, then our rota will run more smoothly.’

  She gave him a look that told him she didn’t believe a word of it. That she knew he’d done it partly because he’d wanted to do something nice for her, even though there was no way he’d ever admit that out loud. ‘Even so. Thank you.’ She bit her lip. ‘I just wish it hadn’t taken—well, this, to get us in any kind of accord.’

  ‘Me, too. But we’ve cracked the first week and a half. We’re both there for Tyler. We’ll make this work,’ he said. And he meant every single word.

  CHAPTER SIX

  OVER THE NEXT few weeks, Emmy and Dylan settled in to their new routine. They shared Tyler’s care during the week; Emmy had found a Pilates class nearby, which was scheduled at a similar time to her old class, and Dylan had found a gym nearby, too. And Emmy was surprised at how quickly she’d got used to the routine of working and family life.

  ‘You know, Ty, I never thought it would end up being like this,’ she said, jiggling the baby on her lap. ‘I thought he’d be a nightmare to share a house with. Fussy and demanding and annoying. But he’s actually OK, when you get to know him. He still has the social skills of a rhino, but I think that’s because nobody taught him, not because he’s too arrogant to care.’

  Tyler cooed at her.

  She laughed. ‘He’s better with you, too. I’ve heard him reading to you. Funny, he said he never wanted to be a dad, but he’s managing just fine with you.’ Her smile faded. ‘I can’t quite work him out. Why was he so adamant that he didn’t want kids? And why did his marriage break up?’

  She jiggled Tyler still further. ‘Before we became your guardians, I would’ve said that Dylan was the problem. Nobody could put up with someone who’s that formal and stuffy.’ She frowned. ‘Except that’s not what he’s really like. Now we’ve managed to reach a truce, I think I actually like him. He’s got a dry sense of humour, and that smile...’

  No. She wasn’t going to allow herself to think about his smile and how it made her feel. She needed to keep her head where Dylan Harper was concerned, and keep this strictly—well, not business, exactly, but co-guardianship meant being professional and letting her head rule her heart. Total common sense.

  She couldn’t ask Dylan why he didn’t want kids or why his marriage had fallen apart, becaus
e she knew it would annoy him. Dylan didn’t like emotional stuff. Even if she did manage to push past that particular boundary, he was intensely private and she knew he’d give little away.

  ‘I guess I’m going to have to learn not to ask,’ she said, and Tyler gave her a solemn look as if he agreed.

  The baby had started sleeping through the night again; clearly he was beginning to settle after the huge upheaval in his life. But when he began to wake two or three times in the night again, Emmy was at her wits’ end.

  ‘Lavender oil?’ Dylan asked when she suggested it as a solution.

  ‘A couple of drops on a hankie in his room. Apparently it’s relaxing.’

  ‘That’s so flaky,’ Dylan said. ‘There’s no scientific proof that it works.’

  ‘I don’t care. It’s worth a try.’ When he continued to look sceptical, she said, ‘We have to do something, Dylan. I mean, I know we’re taking alternate nights to go in to him—but when he wakes up, he’s yelling loudly enough to wake whoever’s not on duty.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘I don’t know about you, but I feel like a zombie.’ She couldn’t help yawning.

  ‘Me, too,’ he admitted. ‘OK. Try the lavender oil.’

  But it didn’t work.

  The next day, Emmy made an appointment with the health visitor. ‘We might have a solution,’ she told Dylan when he came home. ‘Ally’s health visitor says either he’s starting to cut teeth, or he’s ready to start solid food.’

  ‘So what do we do now? Buy jars of stuff?’ Dylan asked.

  Emmy shook her head. ‘We start with baby rice and mix it with his milk—so then the taste is quite near what he’s used to.’ She produced a packet of organic baby rice she’d bought at the supermarket on the way home from seeing the health visitor. ‘So let’s do this.’

  Dylan read out the instructions from the back of the packet, and Emmy followed them.

  ‘It doesn’t look much,’ Dylan said doubtfully. ‘Are you sure you measured out the right amount?’

  ‘I did what you read out,’ she said, and sat down with Tyler. She put a tiny amount of the rice on the end of the spoon. ‘Come on, sweetie, just one little mouthful,’ she coaxed, and put the spoon into Tyler’s open mouth.

 

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