by Stewart, JM
“Em!”
Dillon’s voice called out when she reached the small garden at the center of the driveway, but she didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t stop. Angry tears welled and overflowed. She’d go back when she could go in there and be polite to that old stick in the mud. If she went back now, she’d declare war on that man, take Annie back, and call a lawyer. Annie and Dillon deserved better than that.
“Em, wait.” Dillon darted in front of her, forcing her to stop. He hadn’t put on a coat, hadn’t bothered to tie his boots. Concern etched his face, shone in his eyes, and the emotions she barely held back rose in her throat.
She glared at him, hands clenched into fists. If he came to stand up for his father, he had another think coming. “I don’t have to stand there and let him talk about my sister that way.”
“I know. I’m sorry I asked you to come.” He cupped her face in his warm palms, his voice gentle and annoyingly soothing to her ragged nerves. “I should have come alone. I didn’t think he’d direct his anger at you.”
“Janey is my sister. I know darn well she wasn’t perfect, but she’s my sister. She was all I had.” The quiet understanding in his eyes conspired against her, and more angry tears welled to the surface, a couple slipping before she could stop them.
His thumbs swept across her skin, wiping away the wetness. “My father’s a hard man. He has his own ideas about the world, and he’s very set in his ways. He’s a bit over protective of his family. Doesn’t mean he’s right.”
“You accused me of the exact same thing.” Emma shook off his touch, turned away from him, and folded her arms. That hurt more than she cared to admit. She’d expected him to be on Janey’s side. Her side. Without him, she felt entirely too alone.
“I know I did.” The snow crunched beneath his feet when Dillon took a step, his body pressing against her back, his voice a low, husky murmur in her ear. “I’m sorry. It was a knee-jerk reaction.”
She stiffened her spine, determined not to let him get to her. “I came back to town because Janey should have told you. You’re Annie’s father. You deserve to know. I don’t want nor have I ever needed your money.”
Dillon apparently had made up his mind to torment her, for his hands slid onto her upper arms, and he tugged her back against him. “I know. I’m sorry. I should never have accused you of being after money.”
The soft sentiment in his voice seeped inside and she turned to face him, needing to see his eyes before she allowed herself to trust his words. The sheer honesty in those dark orbs, the almost palpable sorrow and regret, pulled at her and the pain rose to the surface.
“I miss her so much.” Her voice shook with the emotion she couldn’t hold back anymore.
“I do too.” His arms closed around her, pulled her flush against him.
Emma gave in. She laid her head against his chest and allowed herself to accept the comfort. His heart pounded a soothing rhythm beneath her ear, his body warm against her cheek. She wanted to bury her nose in his chest and fill her lungs with his scent.
Feelings she didn’t know what to do with. How could a man she’d grown up hating make her feel so warm and safe? His touch, the look in his eyes, made everything right again. Nobody since her mother had ever made her feel so protected.
Arms wrapped around his back, she looked up into his face. He lifted a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Sweet tension moved thick and palpable between them, until she became lost in the deep, liquid pools of his eyes.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, his head came down and his mouth touched hers, the briefest of kisses, merely the brush of lips, light and electrifying. She froze, standing on the precipice of something that would alter everything between them. It would force her to face the feelings she held for a man she shouldn’t want.
Heart pounding against her ribcage, she closed her eyes. She needed to push him away. It was the right thing to do. His mouth touched hers again, sipped and tasted, and she lost the battle. A tiny, shuddering exhalation of defeat slipped from her lips. She pressed into him and shamelessly offered herself up to him. God help her, she couldn’t deny her attraction to him, couldn’t deny the need that fluttered hot and tangible in her belly, or the sweet pleasure rocketing up her spine.
A quiet groan rumbled out of him. A sound of surrender, of needs too long denied. His other hand slid into the hair at the base of her skull, and he deepened the kiss. His mouth moved over hers with a gentle insistence that weakened her knees.
She shuddered, whimpered, and curled her fingers against the solid muscle beneath her palms, caught between holding on for dear life and pulling herself closer. She’d kissed a few men in her life, but none of them ever made her feel like this. His kiss was better than she could have imagined, his lips far softer, his mouth headier, like a fine wine that went to her head in a dizzying rush.
With infinite control and patience, Dillon pulled back and stared at her with dark eyes so full of raw hunger she trembled beneath their power. His right hand cupped her cheek and his thumb stroked her chin, grazing her bottom lip. His gaze followed for a moment before he looked at her again.
“I suppose that was bound to happen sooner or later.” Breathless, his mouth curled into that heart-stopping grin, the one that made her weak in the knees. “I had the biggest crush on you in high school. I thought I’d gotten over that, but seeing you again…”
Her heart skipped a beat and her mouth dropped open. He had a crush? On her? Her mind rejected the idea.
She shook her head. “I’m not the kind of person boys fantasize about, Dillon.”
“If you think that, you have a very warped view of yourself.” Almost hesitantly, his hand moved, stroking her cheek with a tenderness that stole the breath from her lungs. “I happen to think you’re beautiful.”
His words, the honesty in his soft voice, pulled her gaze to his. If she doubted what his eyes clearly told her, the proof lay beneath her palms. His heartbeat hammered, matching the quick, fierce rhythm of hers.
Panic rushed up. Wants and needs and fears rose to the surface before she could stop them. She wanted the passion his eyes promised. Dillon made her want it, and his confession only made her ache for it, but her body trembled, memories rising over her. That long ago night, the darkened car. The cruel words. She knew where things like this led.
Part of her wanted to scream. She was thirty years old for crying out loud. It was past time to learn what passion felt like, past time to give herself permission, but the very thought scared her to death.
On top of it, Dillon was off limits. She would not entertain those thoughts. He was her niece’s father, her sister’s lover. If she gave in, she’d be what that cruel boy accused her of that night so long ago.
Emma shook her head. “That can’t happen again.”
“Agreed.”
The shock of his words hit her stomach like a wayward arrow. Disappointment surged through her system.
It must have shown on her face, for he stroked his fingers over her chin. “I’m not relationship material.” Regret tinged his tone. “Annie’s all I can handle right now.”
She nodded, understood, and firmly agreed with him, but couldn’t stop the feeling from eating up her stomach nonetheless. She lowered her gaze to the ground, unable to form a coherent thought or make sense out of the confusing tumble of emotions. What on earth did she say to him now? In the seconds that ticked by, Dillon’s body began to tremble.
“You must be cold.” Thankful for the saving grace, she released him and took a step back. A shiver raked the length of her spine at the loss of his warmth and solidness. Her knees wobbled, making her overly aware of the hold he had on her. Aware of how easily he could get to her and how very much her body craved his touch.
And how much she shouldn’t want it.
Dillon nodded and ran his hands up and down his bare arms. “Freezing, actually. What do you say we get Annie and get out of here?”
She nodded, following behind him w
hen he made his way back to the house. It was a good thing she was going home tonight. The time apart would do them a world of good. She could take the time to shore up her defenses against him.
Chapter Seven
He shouldn’t have touched her.
The knowledge reverberated in Dillon’s head an hour later. Across the room, Emma stood in the kitchen, head bent over her task. She was writing down Annie’s schedule for him. She feigned indifference, but her shoulders were set a little too stiffly. Her amber eyes held an unmistakable wary edge whenever she glanced at him. Dread sat heavy in his chest. There was a distinct distance and tension between them since they left his parents’ place.
Whatever small measure of trust he’d managed to develop between them had been blown to bits, all because he gave in to temptation and kissed her. The sad truth was he couldn’t be sorry for doing it. He’d kiss her again in a heartbeat.
Which was exactly the problem. He’d been wrong. Very, very wrong. One kiss hadn’t quenched his thirst. Rather, it only increased his craving. To see the desire in her eyes when she looked at him was one thing, but to feel it in her kiss, in the way her body melted into his, was something else entirely.
That unease on her face now didn’t help any. It made him long to do exactly what he shouldn’t—go to her, touch her, do whatever it took to alleviate the look.
Emma’s hand paused. She blew out a heavy breath and looked at him. The miserable look in her eyes wrenched at his gut. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can leave her.”
Damn. Obviously, his father had gotten to her more than he originally suspected.
“It’s going to be fine. I promise.”
She vehemently shook her head, worry forming a deep crease between her brows. “I’m not comfortable leaving her with your father.”
“You’re not. You’re leaving her with me.” Hands stuffed firmly in his pockets, he crossed the room and leaned a hip against the counter beside her. The soft, delicate scent of her perfume wafted to him in the small space between them. The warmth of her body called to him.
She glanced at him, eyes wide and vulnerable, and he thought he’d lose his mind. The need to touch her was near overwhelming. “He hates me. He thinks she’s a ploy on my part to get to you.”
“I know Pop can be a little…hard to handle.”
She crossed her arms and frowned. “Rude. The man is rude.”
Dillon sighed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for that. Surely you don’t think I’d let him, or anyone else, hurt her?”
She lowered her gaze and shook her head again. “No.”
“Em, you’ve watched me diaper, bathe, and feed her. Made sure I can get her in and out of her car seat. I’ve prepared bottles and cereal and heated the jarred food to the perfect temperature. I have nine-one-one, poison control, my mother, you, and Doctor Marley all on speed dial. We’ll be fine. I promise.”
She nodded. “I know.”
Remembering her quiet confession the day before, all his good intentions, his desire not to touch her, flew right out the window with the soft, shuddering breath she let out. He cupped her chin in his palms, tipping her face to meet his. “I know you don’t want to leave her, but you have to go back to work and I need to do this. I need you to trust I want what you want—what’s best for Annie. You trust my mother, don’t you?”
Emma nodded. “She was there for me and Janey when my mother died.”
He let his thumbs swipe over her skin, took in the guilty pleasure of its silkiness beneath his fingers. “Ma can be here in five minutes if I need her. Any time of the day or night. You heard what she said.”
She stared at him, eyes reaching, searching, vulnerable and open, and yet filled with a soft heat that called to him. He dropped his hands and reached for her hips, instead, tugged her against him, for the simple need to soothe the worry from her eyes.
When she actually leaned into him, pressed her warm body into his and laid her head on his chest, he thought for sure he’d lose his mind again. He craved this the most, her trust, the openness she exuded when they touched. She let her guard down then, and every muscle tightened in response. The memory of their kiss flitted through his mind. The taste of her mouth, her soft, supple lips beneath his. Her quiet moan and the feel of her lifting onto her toes to kiss him back. Never in a million years had he expected Emma to respond that way.
She lifted her head and peered at him, confusion warring with the heat in her eyes. A breath later, she stiffened against him, dropped her gaze and pulled out of his embrace.
“I may call you ten times a day.” Eyes downcast, Emma went back to the list. He didn’t miss the way her hand trembled when she picked up the pen on the counter.
He let out a quiet, nervous laugh, and rubbed the back of his neck. He took a step back, his body cold without the warmth of her against him. “I’m okay with that.”
More than he cared to admit. Every time she called would be one more time he’d get to hear the sweet sound of her voice.
Man, he had a feeling it would be a long few days.
* * *
“It’s snowing.”
Side by side in the living room, Emma followed Dillon’s gaze out the front window. It was a little after four and the sky had already begun to darken. Big fat snowflakes fell from the sky, drifting lazily to the ground. It wasn’t snowing hard, but it was definitely sticking.
“I should leave before it starts to pile up.” A knot of dread formed in her stomach at the thought. She turned back to Dillon, eyeing Annie in his arms, who looked content to stay there with her head lolling on his shoulder. It didn’t seem to matter that she knew Dillon would do the best he could for her, leaving Annie, period, proved harder than anticipated.
Dillon moved toward the front door, snatched a set of keys off a small shelf, and held them out to her. “Take the Escalade.”
One look at the keys and all the implications of his offer flooded her mind. She shook her head. “My car will make it just fine. It was snowing when I came into town too.”
The thought of having to drive his SUV for the rest of the week left an uneasy ball in the pit of her stomach. Never mind the car dwarfed her small sedan, it belonged to him. She wanted—needed—time away from him. To reset boundaries. She couldn’t do that immersed in something of his that smelled like him. She couldn’t forget the taste of his mouth; she’d go crazy driving his car to work every day.
Undeterred, Dillon shook the keys. “I’m sure it does, but I’d feel better if you took mine.”
“Then what will you drive?” Deliberately not taking the keys from him, she sidestepped his outstretched hand and grabbed her coat off the hook. “You’re going to be driving Annie around. You need the Escalade more than I do.”
“I have a truck in the garage. It does great in the snow. I just prefer my Escalade.”
He had a toy. One arm into her jacket, she paused to stare at him. “Why am I not surprised?”
A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, so sexy her stomach fluttered in response. He winked. “Spoiled rich boy, remember?” When she didn’t take the keys, his expression sobered. “Take the car and call me when you get there so I know you made it safe.”
She pursed her lips. “You sound like somebody’s mother.”
“I sound like my mother.” He dangled the keys in front of her nose, this time a playful glint coming into his eyes, his voice sing-song. “You know you want to.”
She smiled in spite of herself and, with a sigh, snatched the keys before turning to shove her feet into her boots. “What if I scratch it?”
“If you scratch it, you’ll owe me. We’d have to come to some sort of…arrangement.”
At the all too obvious innuendo, her mouth dropped open. Surely he hadn’t really suggested….
Emma jerked her head in his direction. The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes held an unmistakable mischievous glint she’d seen one too many times before. Thi
s was the boy she grew up with, the little imp who loved to tease her. She cuffed his shoulder, and he laughed, a light hearty sound that rumbled up from his chest.
An instinctive smile spread in response. She leaned forward, kissed Annie on the back of the head, and took one tiny hand in hers for a moment. “Bye, sweet girl.”
She turned back to Dillon. He gave her a soft smile. For a moment, the heat in his eyes held her captive, the remembrance of his kiss only hours before zipping between them.
“Bye, Em.”
“Bye.” Forcing herself to break eye contact, lest she do something stupid like throw herself at him, she turned to grab her small suitcase and pulled the front door open. A blast of cold air rushed in around her, a few snowflakes following, blissfully cool against her overheated skin.
“If you don’t call me in three hours,” Dillon called out behind her when she was halfway down the driveway, “I’m calling you.”
She unlocked the car then climbed in, shutting out the wind and the sound of his voice and settled back into the seat with a sigh. These next few days were exactly what she needed. The pull between them proved stronger than anticipated. More than anything, she longed to give in, to know what it felt like to stop being so responsible and uptight and instead give in to a guilty pleasure.
She wanted it with a fierceness that frightened her.
“You didn’t call.”
The sound of Dillon’s deep rich voice had a riot of emotion flooding Emma’s stomach. She ought to be glad for the time away from him, to clear her head. Standing in the kitchen, all she could focus on was how good his voice sounded. Two steps into the small two-bedroom house she’d shared with Janey up until a month ago, the silence descended on her. Here, without Janey and Annie, she felt alone. Completely, totally alone. The emotion wanted to sink her.
“Sorry, I got busy.” She’d put off calling him, simply because she’d spent the last hour craving the sound of his voice. It felt childish at best to need to hear a voice the way she needed to hear his, but still she closed her eyes and allowed herself the luxury of wallowing in the sound of it, hoping it would loosen the knot gripping her chest. The low throb of music in the background had her envisioning him at the club, in his office, seated behind the large wooden desk.