The Playboy's Baby (12 page)

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. This 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.

“How was the drive?” he asked.

She opened her eyes and turned to lean back against the counter. “It was good. You were right. The Escalade is much better in the snow than my car.”

“I won’t say I told you so.”

The teasing tone of his voice had her envisioning a smile, but she couldn’t muster a response to match. She wanted to ask him to talk to her, to chatter at her, until the warm familiar rumble of his voice wrapped itself around her. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine him here beside her, could almost see herself within the safety of his embrace. The fierceness with which she wanted it made her tremble.

Silence rang over the phone line while she struggled not to say all of those things to him, to admit how much she needed him right then.

“You okay?” His voice drifted low and quiet in her ear. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Somehow she wasn’t surprised he’d noticed.

“Just…having trouble adjusting to an empty house.” She sighed and pushed away from the counter, wandering out of the kitchen and into the living room. “The house has too much of Janey in it. Reminders are everywhere. Without Annie, the entire place feels too quiet. How is she?”

“She’s fine. I dropped her off with my mom about an hour ago. I called her right before I called you, and Ma said she gobbled up her dinner and they were having a grand time playing together. Says she hasn’t fussed once.”

That was a relief, but some part of her still worried anyway. She missed that sweet smiling face, missed the sounds of her cooing and babbling.

The sound of the music suddenly grew louder on the other end of the phone. “Hang on.”

Rustling drifted across the line like something brushed the receiver, and another voice came from a distance, low and muffled, the words indistinguishable. While she waited, she moved into the living room and sank onto the sofa, tucking one leg beneath her.

To someone else, he said, “I’ll be right down.” Then to her, “What time do you go to bed?”

“Nine or ten, why?”

“I’m afraid I have to get off for a bit.” Regret tinged his tone. “They need me downstairs, but I’ll call you before you go to sleep, okay?”

“All right.” The thought provided a reassurance. She hung up the phone, the knot in her chest easing. She shouldn’t, but she looked forward to the phone call, to the soothing sound of his voice.

Ten o’clock came and Emma couldn’t sleep. That small part of her waited for her cell phone to ring. When it finally did, her heart took off at a giddy little gallop and she snatched the phone up before it could ring a second time.

Dillon’s quiet laugh echoed across the line. “What were you doing, sitting on the phone?”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “Yeah, kind of.”

His voice sobered. “That bad, huh?”

“First day is always the worst, I guess.” She shrugged.

A beat of silence passed. “Close your eyes.”

She rolled over in bed and tucked the phone between her ear and the pillow. “Ok.”

Another beat of silence.

“Now imagine me there with you.” His voice drifted over the phone like a caress, a low, husky rumble that sent tiny shivers racing up and down her spine.

The image rose in her mind, of her first night back in town, sitting in his office with him. The way he pulled her out of her seat and into his embrace. She felt again his strong arms wrapped around her, the warmth and solidness of his body. The quiet rhythm of his heartbeat sounded through the recesses of her memory. The image didn’t heat her up the way she expected. Once again his affect on her senses surprised her. The images and sensations slid around her like a warm blanket, soft and soothing, melting the tension from her body.

“Does that help?”

“Yes.” More than she had words to tell him. She bit down on her bottom lip and hesitated. “Do me a favor?”

A low creak sounded over the line. “Anything.”

“Talk to me? The sound of your voice helps. Do you have time?”

“Yeah. I have time.”

He spent the next half hour filling her with tidbits about the club, the workers, and the minute details of his night. Coming from anyone else, his words might have been boring, but coming from him, she felt engrossed in his world. The simple sound of his voice on the other end of the line wrapped around her until she almost felt him right beside her, laying with her in the dark.

When she found herself falling asleep she forced herself to open her eyes, shattering the fantasy. “Dillon?”