The Playboy's Baby

by Stewart, JM

  Forcing herself to focus on his words instead, she frowned. “That was fast.”

  He shrugged. “Check cleared. It’ll be a while before you get the deed.” He turned to leave the room, striding for the exit. Just before he disappeared under the archway he lifted a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Em.”

  The following evening Emma sat on a barstool at the club. Dillon stood in the exact same spot he always was, arms folded across his chest. So far, his usual throng of groupies had yet to appear. The music surged, bodies packed in around them all gyrating to the pulsing beat. He brought her in early, before the club opened at eight, showed her around the place, and introduced her to the employees. He wanted her to follow him for the night.

  In truth, she was at odds with the place. She didn’t normally come to places like this. They weren’t her style, and being there made her feel a bit too much like the odd duck. It didn’t help matters any that she had no idea how to relate to Dillon. So far, he acted cool and detached. He went right back to treating her like his best friend’s older sister, like they hadn’t shared anything at all. The way Janey might have.

  Except for his eyes. Dillon never could hide his emotions. Every time he looked at her, yearning shined back at her. He still touched her a little too much, still held her gaze a little too long. It confused her; left her caught in a tug of war she didn’t know what to do with.

  Forcing her mind back to the task at hand, learning about his club, she leaned toward Dillon, to be heard over the din. “Why is it you’re always right here?”

  Without a word, he spun her stool around then leaned down beside her ear. “What do you see?”

  Ignoring the tingles of awareness shooting down her spine, she turned her head, taking in the whole place bit by bit. “Actually, I can see the entire club from here.”

  “Exactly. I like to keep my eyes open. Trouble happens fast.”

  A small, giggling foursome of girls barely old enough to drink sidled up to the bar then. One of them turned her head, giving Dillon a saucy smile, and leaned on the countertop.

  “Ladies.” He greeted them with a smile.

  The girl giggled and nudged her friend, who turned to look him over. The entire exchange made Emma wish the ground would open up beneath her. What on earth did she think she was doing here?

  When the girls wandered away a few minutes later, drinks in hand, Emma turned to Dillon. “I’m cramping your style, aren’t I?”

  He frowned. “Why would you think that?”

  Her cheeks heating, she turned her gaze out in front of her, idly watching one of the waitresses carry a tray loaded with drinks to a table on the far side of the room. “Every time I come in here, I find you surrounded by a throng of adoring fans. Tonight, so far, you’re not. You could just give me the password to your computer, you know.”

  “You’re here because I want you to get a feel for the place. I want you to see it like I see it. Maybe you’ll notice something I’ve missed. I told you, I think you could be really good for this place.” He turned his gaze out in front of him and lowered his voice. “I do that on purpose, you know.”

  “Do what?”

  He turned and looked her square in the eye. “Flirt.”

  She shook her head. “You don’t owe me any explanations.” She didn’t want to hear them either.

  Dillon ignored her statement and leaned close, his gaze reaching and intense. “Happy customers stay longer and spend more money.” He straightened and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”

  She took in the quick, gyrating beat of the music and vehemently shook her head. “I can’t dance.”

  She couldn’t find a groove if someone handed it to her. She certainly wouldn’t be doing it in public, not to mention being any closer to him would be tempting fate.

  Not taking no for an answer, Dillon grabbed her hands and pulled her off the stool. “You need to relax a little. Learn to enjoy the atmosphere. Come on.”

  He tugged her behind him to the edge of the already crowded dance floor. The bodies surged around her, bumping and grinding.

  Meeting his gaze, she shook her head, her heart in her throat. She really did have two left feet. Already, she felt out of place. She didn’t want to make a fool out of herself in public, let alone in front of him.

  Moving to stand behind her, Dillon leaned his head down beside her ear. “Close your eyes. Let the beat take you.”

  Doing what he instructed, Emma closed her eyes. At first, he placed his hands on her hips and guided her steps. Eventually, her feet moved of their own accord, and she found a comfortable rhythm. Dillon released her and she opened her eyes. He moved around in front of her, grinning. He took her hands, twirling with her. They were silly moves that made her feel goofy, but they relaxed her all the same. It wasn’t long until she fell with ease into the beat of the music. She actually enjoyed herself.

  Okay, so maybe she could see what he and Janey saw in these places.

  When the song ended and another began, the quick upbeat rhythm changed to something slower, softer, and the memory flooded her mind of the last time they danced. Of being in his arms, her head pressed against his chest, his body swaying against her to the sensual rhythm. The need that flowed between them.

  The kiss that followed.

  Emma froze. The cheerful feeling of the moment faded. The pain slipped up to wrap around her chest. She couldn’t stop remembering his words when he ended their relationship, if she could even call it that. Couldn’t stop seeing the look on his face that day. The regret and longing in his eyes now didn’t help matters any.

  Without a word, she turned and pushed through the crowd, not stopping until she reached the office. Only once the door slid closed behind her and the silence wrapped around her did she realize he hadn’t followed.

  Moving to stand at the window, gazing out at the club below, she discovered why. She easily spotted his tall, broad form from this distance, in his usual spot by the bar. He had a companion now. A tall blonde she recognized. Leila Michaels. His ex. The waitresses, Rhonda and Amy, had told her Leila had been in the club every night this week, fawning over him.

  Seeing the two of them brought all those childhood insecurities rising to the surface. She’d been the ugly duckling all her life. No man ever wanted her for herself. Leila was everything she wasn’t. Tall. Blonde. Beautiful. Not to mention they shared a past. He loved her once, wanted to marry her. For all Emma knew, he still did. Maybe that was the real reason he didn’t want to get involved with her. She wasn’t Leila.

  Standing there, she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away. Before her eyes, Leila pressed her body along his length, leaned up on her tiptoes, snaked her hand around the back of his head, and pulled his mouth down to hers.

  When Leila slanted her mouth over Dillon’s, Emma twisted away from the window. Tears welled in her eyes. She moved on numb legs to the desk and sank into the leather chair. She knew this day would come, when he’d move on and begin to see other people. She just hadn’t expected him to be so blatant about it. That hurt more than actually seeing the two of them together, that he would do it seemingly without concern for her. She’d come to expect more from him, thought him to be different. Apparently, she’d only seen what she wanted.

  Well, that answered that. Now she knew she was in love with him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him with someone else. Her heart said he was hers.

  She’d gotten herself into this mess, hadn’t she?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You know, there’s a rumor going around he’s asked her out,” Amy said from behind him.

  Standing at the back of the club, staring through the crowd at the bar across the room, Dillon could only grunt in acknowledgment. He’d heard that one, from damn near every one of his employees. The rumor mill flew with it. It didn’t help matters any that, for a good half hour every night, Emma took a break at the bar, keeping Ronnie company.

  Exactly where she was tonight. Across the room,
Ronnie leaned on the counter in front of Emma. Judging by the grin on his face and the way she tipped her head back and laughed, he flirted with her.

  The sight irked the hell out of him.

  She’d worked for him for a week now. His assessment of her had been correct. She was good for his club. She kept meticulous books, the employees all liked and respected her, and she’d already hired four people for the positions he needed filled. Emma was also a good judge of character, the people she hired did excessively well, which made his job easier.

  The only problem was the tension between them. She barely spoke to him. If it wasn’t about business or Annie, she ignored him. The look in her eyes when she regarded him got to him, a mixture of sadness and anger. The look told him better than words could he’d upset her. Something had happened, that much he’d figured out. Not only had she rebuilt the wall between them, she went back to giving him those scornful looks he remembered only too well growing up.

  Watching her with Ronnie made his chest ache. Night after night, she sat with him, flirted with him, and the entire idea had a hard knot of anger sitting permanently in Dillon’s stomach. It didn’t matter he was the one to end their relationship. It didn’t matter either, that he actually liked Ronnie, trusted him. Ronnie was a good guy.

  Something deep inside insisted that Emma was his girl and the thought of her with someone else made him want to put a dent in something. Having to watch her actually respond to the obvious flirting made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He’d asked for this.

  “Oh, it’s not a rumor,” came a second voice behind him.

  A glance back confirmed the voice belonged to Rhonda, another one of his waitresses. She and Amy stood behind him, both of them watching the scene unfolding before them. He turned back to the bar.

  “I actually saw them out together yesterday,” Rhonda said.

  “Ooh, where?” Amy’s excited, gossipy tone grated on his nerves.

  “The coffee shop around the corner.”

  Dillon jerked around to glare at the both of them. “Don’t the two of you have something you could be doing?”

  Rhonda’s brow furrowed. “Somebody’s grumpy.”

  Amy just grinned. After Rhonda wandered away, she picked up her drink tray off the table beside him. “If you have any interest in her, Boss, I’d move on it.”

  She disappeared into the crowd moments later, leaving him to ponder how very much he wanted to hit something. Or march over there and plant one on Emma. Stake his claim on her right there at the bar, where everybody would be sure to see it.

  * * *

  “What happened to your hand?”

  Seated behind the desk in the office, Emma stared down at the cuts and bruises lining the knuckles of Dillon’s right hand. He stood off to her left, leaning on the desk. She called him in to take a look at the surveillance videos. She found their company thief, caught her red-handed, and she needed Dillon to see the videos before she could take action.

  “I felt the need to hit something, so I did.” Tension radiated off him. He stared at the computer screen, a deep scowl etching his forehead.

  Emma pursed her lips. If that wasn’t like a man. “How very barbaric of you. Who pissed you off?”

  His gaze shifted to her, his intense eyes pinning her to the spot, but he didn’t say anything. After a moment, he turned back to the computer. “Heard Ronnie asked you out.”

  That was what bothered him so much? He was jealous of her? Oh of all the egotistical…

  She jerked her gaze back to the monitor and jabbed the key to set the next video to play. “Yeah, so?”

  “You didn’t actually go, did you?”

  At the obvious irritation in his tone, she turned her head. A muscle in his jaw ticked and the hand on the desk curled into a fist. The sight set the anger in her stomach rising to steaming proportions.

  “Maybe.” She glared at the computer screen.

  Okay, so she went out with Ronnie…like friends. She made it very clear anything romantic didn’t interest her. Hell, she went out with the girls too. She and Rhonda went out for coffee the other day.

  More to the point, she created a life for herself here in Hastings. Dillon gave her the keys to the house. She went to the city three times in the last week to gather necessities—dishes and silverware, her bed, a couch, the dining table, and coffeemaker. Things she needed to live on. Working at the club ended up being a plus. The friends she made here helped her to slowly move herself in. By Wednesday afternoon, she had enough to live on until she could pack the rest of her house.

  All of which made her feel a lot less like she wrapped her world around a man who’d never love her in return.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” She didn’t bother to hide the annoyance in her tone. He acted like a spoiled brat and it irked her no end. Never mind the way he all but flaunted Leila in front of her the other night. He had no right to judge her.

  Dillon’s gaze snapped to hers, fury blazing in his dark eyes. “You can’t see him, Em!”

  This time the anger got to her. Rage rose within her before she could stop it. “Why?” She spun toward him and met his glare with one of her own. “Because you forbid it? Go ahead. Tell me it’s against company policy. I dare you.”

  He smacked his palm down onto the desk, his face suddenly inches from hers. “Because you’re mine, dammit!”

  Before she could get a word in edgewise, his mouth swooped down and claimed hers, his kiss hard and possessive. He was proving a point—he was jealous and they both knew it.

  God help her it was sexy. No man had ever gotten jealous over her before. It made her want to lean into him, snake her hand around the back of his head, and kiss him back with everything she had.

  Except she couldn’t forget seeing him with Leila.

  Her hands trembling with a lethal combination of need and fury—at him for putting her in this position in the first place and at herself for responding to it—she shoved against the solid wall of his chest, shoved hard, and wrenched her mouth from his.

  “Grow up!” She held his gaze and surged to her feet.

  He didn’t move, didn’t back away. His chest heaved, his eyes still stormy and intense.

  “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to decide you don’t want me anymore, but nobody else can have me either. I’m not some toy you can decide to pick up and play with whenever the mood suits you.”

  With that, she shoved past him, but stopped in the doorway.

  “I saw you kiss Leila. I was prepared for you to move on. Hell, I knew it was coming, but you could have at least waited until I got off shift.” She let the door slam behind her and stormed from the room, all the way downstairs to the bar. There, she sank onto a stool with a huff.

  “Give me a shot, Ronnie.”

  “Bad night?” Ronnie set a shot glass down in front of her and filled it with a deep, amber liquid.

  She knocked it back in one swallow, grimacing when the fiery liquid burned a path down her throat. When Ronnie refilled her glass, she knocked that one back too, but the warmth spreading through her did nothing to unravel the hard knot of anger in her stomach.

  “Want another?” When she shook her head, he picked up the glass. “You and the boss man have words?”

  She pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. “That man is insufferable.”

  Ronnie shook his head. “Only when he’s riled. When he cools off, he’ll come around.”

  Then he wandered off, leaving her alone to fume.

  She couldn’t do it anymore. Working for him had been a very bad idea. For her own sake, she needed to unravel her life from his. Outside of their connection to Annie, she didn’t want anything to do with him. Her heart couldn’t take it.

  Sliding off the stool, she went back up to the office. She’d give him two weeks’ notice, starting tomorrow. Pulling the door open, she came to an abrupt halt. Dillon stood on the other side of the threshold, hi
s arm out, like he was reaching for the handle.

  “I was just about to come find you,” he said. “We need to talk.”

  The look in his eyes got to her, and for a moment, she froze. His heart shone bright in his eyes. Sadness and regret added a haunted shadow to the dark depths that wanted to melt her resolve.

  She stiffened her spine. “I came back up here to give you two weeks’ notice. I quit. I’ll give you time to find a replacement, but that’s it. We’ll exchange Annie through your mother. I won’t take her away from you. I refuse to punish her because of this, but—”

  “She’s mine.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the end of the desk behind him. “I opened the letter from the lab yesterday.”

  “Oh.” Caught off guard, she fumbled for a minute and glanced at her feet. “Well. Good.”

  “What happened with Leila isn’t what you think.” The dejection in his tone matched the look in his eyes.

  The memory of him and Leila flitted through her mind, a twinge of pain surging through her chest. She furrowed her brow and folded her arms across her chest. “Spare me the details, if you don’t mind. What you do on your own time is your business.”

  “Em…” He reached out to her, but she sidestepped his hand, shook her head.

  “I’ve had enough of this game. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t have me and her at the same time, and you made it abundantly clear you don’t want me.” She turned back to the stairs. “Just leave me alone.”

  * * *

  Emma opened her eyes. Her cell phone vibrated on the nightstand again. She didn’t need to look to know who the call was from. Dillon had called at least seven times since she left the club at midnight, twice in the last ten minutes. He left half a dozen messages, none of which she’d listened to.