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Bound by a Baby
Kate Hardy


Can a baby bring them together?Becoming guardian to her orphaned Godson is a heart-breaking honour for Emmy Jacobs. The real challenge will be sharing that honour with Godfather Dylan Harper! Having got off on the wrong foot, Emmy must now somehow get along with the brooding – and gorgeous – Dylan…Dylan never wanted a family. His own childhood was bad enough, so how could he ever be a father? But he promised his best friend he’d be there and he’s going to be. Caring for baby Tyler with a beautiful but emotional woman will test him to the limit. However, watching Emmy with Tyler shows Dylan a new side to her, and a new side to himself…**Winner of the RNA Rose award 2014**







‘Can we get this as well? I think Tyler’d love it.’

‘You mean, you love it.’

Emmy seemed to like simple, childlike things. And Dylan hadn’t quite worked out yet whether he found that more endearing or annoying. He certainly didn’t loathe her as much as he once had. She was good with the baby, too.

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘OK, then, let’s ask him.’ She picked up the cot toy, crouched down beside the pram, switched it on and let Tyler see the lights and hear the lullaby.

Tyler’s eyes went wide, then he laughed and held his hands out towards it.

Emmy looked up at Dylan and smiled. ‘I think that’s a yes.’

Again a surge of attraction hit him. Was he crazy? This was Emmy Jacobs, who sparred with him and sniped at him and was his co-guardian. She was the last person he wanted to get involved with. But at the same time he had to acknowledge that there was something about her that really got under his skin. Something that made him want to know more about her. Get closer.


Bound by a Baby

Kate Hardy




www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


KATE HARDY lives in Norwich, in the east of England, with her husband, two young children, one bouncy spaniel, and too many books to count! When she’s not busy writing romance or researching local history she helps out at her children’s schools. She also loves cooking—spot the recipes sneaked into her books! (They’re also on her website, along with extracts and stories behind the books.) Writing for Mills & Boon has been a dream come true for Kate—something she wanted to do ever since she was twelve. She has been writing for Medical Romance™ for over ten years now, as well as for other Mills & Boon


lines. She says it’s the best of both worlds, because she gets to learn lots of new things when she’s researching the background to a book: add a touch of passion, drama and danger, a new gorgeous hero every time, and it’s the perfect job!

Kate’s always delighted to hear from readers, so do drop in to her website at www.katehardy.com.


For Gerard, Chris and Chloe—the best research team ever—with all my love.


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#u373caa53-0a50-5239-b8c5-d40b8c257fef)

CHAPTER TWO (#ufb6af495-37a7-5801-870b-3a5fca5ce669)

CHAPTER THREE (#uf9be6949-55bd-5ba5-af6d-1edbbce44a87)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ub7782bf5-d3c3-5563-aed8-c219a62504f6)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

‘I ASSUME YOU know why you’re both here,’ the solicitor said, looking at Emmy and then at Dylan.

Of course Emmy knew. Ally and Pete had asked her to be their son Tyler’s guardian, if the unthinkable should ever happen.

If. She swallowed hard. That was the whole point of her being here. Because the unthinkable had happened. And Emmy still couldn’t quite believe that she’d never see her best friend again.

She lifted her chin. Obviously today was about making things all official legally. And as for Dylan Harper—the only man she’d ever met who could make wearing a T-shirt and jeans feel as if they were a formal business suit—he was obviously here because he was Pete’s best friend and Pete and Ally had asked him to be the executor of their will. ‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ Dylan echoed.

‘Good.’ The solicitor tapped his pen against his blotter. ‘So, Miss Jacobs, Mr Harper, can you confirm that you’re both prepared to be Tyler’s guardians?’

Emmy froze for a moment. Both? What was the man talking about? No way would Ally and Pete have asked them both to be Tyler’s guardian. There had to be some mistake.

She glanced at Dylan, to find him looking straight back at her. And his expression was just as stunned as her own must be.

Or maybe they’d misheard. Misunderstood. ‘Both of us, Tyler’s guardians?’ she asked.

For the first time, the solicitor’s face showed an expression other than smooth neutrality. ‘Did you not know they’d named you as Tyler’s guardian in the will, Ms Jacobs?’

Emmy blew out a breath. ‘Well, yes. Ally asked me before she and Pete revised their wills.’ And she’d assumed that Ally had meant just her.

‘Pete asked me,’ Dylan said.

Which almost made Emmy wonder if Ally and Pete hadn’t spoken to each other about it. Though obviously they must’ve done. They’d both signed the will, so they’d clearly known that both of their best friends had agreed to be there for Tyler. They just hadn’t shared that particular piece of information with either Dylan or herself, by the looks of things.

‘Is there a problem?’ the solicitor asked.

Apart from the fact that she and Dylan disliked each other intensely and usually avoided each other? Or the fact that Dylan was married—and Emmy was pretty sure that his wife couldn’t be too pleased that her husband had been named co-guardian with another woman, one who was single? ‘No,’ she said quickly, and looked at Dylan. This was his cue to explain that no, he couldn’t do it.

‘No problem,’ Dylan confirmed, to her shock.

‘Good.’

Good? No, it just made everything much more complicated, Emmy thought. Or maybe it meant he intended to fight her for custody of the baby: family man versus single mum, so it was obvious who’d win. But she didn’t have a chance to protest because the solicitor went on with the reading of the will. ‘Now, obviously Ally and Pete left financial provisions for Tyler. I have all the details here.’

‘I’ll deal with it,’ Dylan said.

Immediately assuming that a flaky, air-headed jewellery designer wouldn’t have a clue what to do? Emmy knew that was how Dylan saw her—she’d overheard him say it to Pete, on more than one occasion—and it rankled. She’d been her own boss for ten years. She was perfectly capable of dealing with things. Whereas he was so uptight and stuffy, she couldn’t even begin to imagine him looking after a baby or a toddler. Given that Ally had always been diplomatic about Dylan’s wife, merely saying that she worked with Pete, Emmy was pretty sure that Nadine Harper was from the same mould as Dylan. A cold workaholic who wouldn’t know what fun was if it jumped out in front of him and yelled, ‘Boo!’ And not the sort that Ally would’ve wanted caring for her son.

But the solicitor was off again, going through the details of the arrangements made in the will. Emmy had to ignore her feelings and listen to what the man was telling her before she got completely lost. This was important.

And then at last it was all over.

Leaving her and Dylan to pick up the pieces. Together. Unthinkably.

She gave the solicitor a polite smile, shook his hand, and walked out of the office. On the doorstep of the building, she came to a halt and faced Dylan.

‘I think,’ she said, ‘we need to talk. Like now.’

He nodded. ‘And I could do with some coffee.’

There were shadows under his cornflower-blue eyes, and lines at the corners betraying that he hadn’t slept properly since the crash; for the first time ever, Dylan actually looked vulnerable—and as if he hurt as much as she did, right now. It stopped her from uttering the kind of snippy remarks they usually made to each other.

‘Make that two of us,’ she said. On the sleep front, as well as the need for coffee. Vulnerability, no way would she admit to. Especially not to Dylan Harper. No way was she giving him an excuse to take Tyler from her. He and Nadine were not taking her place.

‘Where’s Tyler?’ Dylan asked.

‘With my mum. She’ll ring me if there’s a problem.’ She lifted one shoulder, daring him to criticise her. ‘I didn’t think the solicitor’s office would be the best place for him.’

‘It isn’t.’

Another first: he was actually agreeing with her. Maybe, she thought, they might be able to work something out between them? Maybe he’d be reasonable? A baby wouldn’t fit into his busy, workaholic lifestyle. It’d be tough for Emmy, too, but at least she’d spent time with her godson and would have some clue about looking after him.

‘Shall we?’ she asked, indicating the café across the road.

‘Fine.’

At the counter in the café, Emmy ordered a latte. ‘What would you like?’

‘I’ll get these,’ Dylan said immediately.

She gave a small but determined shake of her head. No way was she going to let him take charge. ‘I offered first.’

‘Then thank you—an espresso would be great.’

‘Do you want anything to eat?’

He grimaced. ‘Thank you for the offer, but right now I really can’t face anything.’

She, too, hadn’t been able to choke much down since she’d heard the news. It seemed that the situation had shaken him as much as it had shaken her. In a way, that was a good thing. Maybe they could find some common ground.

‘If you go and find us a table, I’ll bring our coffee over,’ she said.

And she was glad of that small space between them. Just so she could marshal her thoughts. Right now, she didn’t want to fight with Dylan. She just wanted her best friend back. For everything to be the same as it had been, three days ago. For Pete to have taken Ally on a surprise anniversary trip to Venice, for them to be happy and for Ally to be texting her to let her know they were on their way back and couldn’t wait to see their little boy and tell her all about the trip. For them to be alive.

Emmy paid for the coffees, and carried them over to the quiet table Dylan had found for them in the corner.

‘So you had no idea Pete had asked me to be Tyler’s guardian?’ Dylan asked.

Typical Dylan: straight in there. No pussyfooting around. Though, for once, she agreed with him. They needed to cut to the chase. ‘No. And you had no idea that Ally had asked me?’

‘No.’ He spread his hands. ‘Of course I said yes when he asked me—just as you obviously did when Ally asked you.’ He sighed. ‘I know you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead—and Pete was my best friend, the closest I had to a brother—but what the hell were they thinking when they decided this?’

‘They’re both—were both,’ she corrected herself, wincing, ‘only children. Pete’s dad is nearly eighty and Ally’s mum isn’t well. How could Pete and Ally’s parents be expected to cope with looking after a baby full-time? And it isn’t going to get any easier for them over the next twenty years. Of course Pete and Ally would ask someone nearer their own age to be Tyler’s guardian.’

Dylan gave a pained sigh. ‘I didn’t mean that. It’s obvious. I mean, why us?’

Why ask two people who really didn’t get on to take care of the most precious thing in their lives? Good question. Though that wasn’t the one uppermost in her mind. ‘Why you and me instead of you and your wife?’ she asked pointedly.

He blew out a breath. ‘That isn’t an issue.’

‘If I was married and my husband’s best friend asked him to be the baby’s guardian if the worst happened, I’d be pretty upset if another woman was named as the co-guardian instead of me,’ Emmy said.

‘It isn’t an issue,’ Dylan repeated.

Patronising, pompous idiot. Emmy kept a rein on her temper. Just. ‘Don’t you think this discussion ought to include her?’

‘You’re the one who said we needed to talk.’

‘We do.’ She switched into superpolite mode, the one she used for difficult clients, before she was tempted to strangle him. ‘Could you perhaps phone her and see when’s a good time for her to join us?’

‘No,’ he said tightly.

Superpolite mode off. ‘Either she really, really trusts you,’ Emmy said, ‘or you’re even more of a control freak than I thought.’

‘It isn’t an issue,’ Dylan said, ‘because we’re separated.’ He glared at her. ‘Happy, now?’

What? Since when had Dylan split up with his wife? And why? But Emmy damped the questions down. It wasn’t any of her business. Whereas Tyler’s welfare—that was most definitely her business.

‘I guess it makes this issue a bit less complicated,’ she said. Especially given what the social worker had suggested to her yesterday—something Emmy had baulked at, but which might turn out to be a sensible solution now.

She took a sip of coffee. ‘Maybe,’ she said slowly, ‘Pete and Ally thought that between us we could give Tyler what he needs.’

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘How do you mean?’

‘We have different strengths.’ And different weaknesses, but she wasn’t going to point that out. They were going to need to work together on this, and now wasn’t the time for a fight. ‘We can bring different things to his life.’

He folded his arms. ‘So I do the serious stuff and you do all the fun and glitter?’

Emmy had been prepared to compromise, but this was too much. And this was exactly why she’d disliked Dylan from practically the moment they’d met. Because he was judgemental, arrogant, and had the social skills of a rhino. Either he genuinely didn’t realise what he’d just said or he really didn’t care—and she wasn’t sure which. She lifted her chin. ‘You mean, because I work with pretty, shiny things, they distract my poor little female brain from being able to focus on anything real?’ she asked, her voice like cut glass.

His wince told her that he hadn’t actually meant to insult her. ‘Put that way, it sounds bad.’

‘It is bad, Dylan. Look, you know I have my own business. If I was an airhead, unable to do a basic set of yearly accounts and work out my profit margins, then I’d be starving and in debt up to my eyeballs. Just to clarify the situation for you, that’s not the case. My bank account’s in the black and my business is doing just fine, thank you. Or will you be requiring a letter from my bank manager to prove that?’

He held her gaze. ‘OK. I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘Good. Apology accepted.’ And maybe she should cut him some slack. He’d said that Pete was as close to him as a brother, so right now he was obviously hurting as much as she was. Especially as he was having to deal with a relationship break-up as well. And Dylan Harper was the most formal, uptight man Emmy had ever met, which meant he probably wasn’t so good at emotional stuff. No doubt lashing out and making snippy remarks was his way of dealing with things. Letting it go—this time—didn’t mean that she was going to let him walk all over her in the future.

‘OK, so we don’t get on; but this isn’t actually about us. It’s about a little boy who has nobody, and giving him a stable home where he can grow up knowing he’s loved and valued.’ And this wasn’t the first time she and Dylan had had to put their differences aside. They’d managed it for Pete and Ally’s wedding. When, come to think of it, Dylan’s wife had been away on business and hadn’t been able to attend, despite the fact that she worked with the groom and was married to the best man.

Emmy and Dylan had put their differences aside again two months ago, in the same ancient little church where Ally and Pete had got married, when they’d stood by the font and made their promises as godparents. Dylan’s wife had been absent then, too. So maybe the marriage had been in trouble for a while, and Pete knew what was going on in Dylan’s life. Which would make a bit more sense of the decision to ask both Dylan and Emmy to be Tyler’s guardian.

She looked Dylan straight in the eye. ‘I meant every word I said in church on my godson’s christening day. I intend to be there for him.’

* * *

Was Emmy implying that he wasn’t? Dylan felt himself bristling. ‘I meant every word I said, too.’

‘Right.’

But he couldn’t discern an edge in her voice—at least, not like the one that had been there when he’d as good as called her an airhead. And that mollified him slightly. Maybe they could work together on this. Maybe she’d put the baby first instead of being the overemotional, needy mess she’d been when he’d first met her. Emmy wasn’t serious and focused, like Nadine. She was unstructured and flaky. Something Dylan refused to put up with; he’d already had to deal with enough of that kind of behaviour in his life. No more.

‘Look, Ally and Pete wanted us to take care of their baby, if anything happened to them.’ She swallowed hard. ‘And the worst has happened.’

Dylan could see the sheen of tears in her grey eyes, and her lower lip actually started to wobble. Oh, no. Please don’t let her cry. He wasn’t good with tears. And he’d seen enough of them in those last few weeks with Nadine to last him a lifetime. If Emmy started crying, he’d have to walk out of the café. Because right now he couldn’t cope with any more emotional pressure. As it was, he felt as if the world had slipped and he were slowly sliding backwards, unable to stop himself and with nothing to hang on to.

She dragged in a breath. ‘We’re going to have to work together on this and put our personal feelings aside.’

‘Fair point.’ They didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. And at least she was managing to hold the tears back. That was something. ‘We’ll work together.’ Dylan was still slightly surprised at how businesslike she was being. This wasn’t Emmy-like behaviour. She’d been late the first three times they’d met, and given the most feeble of excuses. And he’d lost count of the times he’d been over at Ally and Pete’s and Ally had had to rush off to pick up the pieces when yet another of Emmy’s disastrous relationships had ended. It was way, way too close to the way his mother behaved, and Dylan had no patience for that kind of selfishness.

And his comment about the glitter hadn’t been totally unfounded. He was pretty sure she’d choose to do the fun things with Tyler and leave him to do all the serious stuff. Emmy was all about fun. Which wasn’t enough: sometimes you had to put the fun aside and do what needed to be done rather than what you wanted to do. ‘So you’ve been looking after Tyler?’

‘Since they left.’ She shrugged. ‘Babysitting.’

Except now it wasn’t babysitting anymore. There wasn’t anyone to hand Tyler back to.

She blew out a breath. ‘The social worker came to see me last night. She said that Tyler needs familiarity and a routine. So I guess the first thing we need to do is to set up a routine, something as near as possible to what he’s used to.’

Considering the chaos that usually surrounded Emmy Jacobs, Dylan couldn’t imagine her setting up any kind of routine. But he bit his tongue. He’d already annoyed her today. Right now he needed to be conciliatory. For his godson’s sake. ‘Right.’

‘And, as the solicitor said, we’re sharing custody.’

‘Meaning that one week you have him, the next week I do?’ Dylan suggested. ‘Fine. That works for me.’

‘It doesn’t work at all.’

He frowned at her, not understanding. ‘Why not?’

‘Just as Tyler gets settled in with me, I have to bring him to you; and just as he gets settled with you, you have to bring him to me?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not fair on him.’

‘So what are you suggesting?’

‘The social worker,’ she said, not meeting his gaze, ‘suggested that Tyler stays in his own home. She says that whoever cares for him needs to, um, live there, too.’

He blinked. ‘You’re planning to move into Ally and Pete’s house?’

She coughed. ‘Not just me.’

What she was saying finally sank in. ‘You’re suggesting we live together?’ The idea was so shocking, he almost dropped his coffee.

‘No.’ She lifted her chin, looking affronted. ‘The social worker suggests that we share a house and share Tyler’s care. Believe you me, it’s not what I want to do—but it’s the most sensible solution for Tyler. It saves us having to traipse a tired and hungry baby all over London at times that don’t suit him. We’ll be fitting round him, not the other way round.’

‘Share a house. That sounds like living together, to me.’ Something Dylan knew he wasn’t good at. Hadn’t he failed spectacularly with Nadine? His marriage had broken up because he hadn’t wanted a family and the wife he’d loved had given him an ultimatum. A choice he couldn’t accept. And now Emmy Jacobs—a woman who embodied everything he didn’t like—seriously expected him to make a family with her?

‘It isn’t living together. It’s just sharing a house.’ Her mouth tightened, and she gave him a look as if to say that he was the last person on earth she’d choose to live with.

He needed to be upfront about this. ‘I don’t want to share a house with you,’ he said.

‘It’s not my idea of fun, either, but what else—?’ She paused. ‘Actually, no, there is an easy solution to this. You can agree to me having full-time care of Tyler.’

‘That isn’t what Pete and Ally wanted.’ And he didn’t think Emmy was stable enough to look after Tyler, not permanently. Then again, Dylan couldn’t imagine himself taking care of Tyler, either. He knew practically nothing about babies. He’d never even babysat his godson. Pete and Ally had never asked him, knowing that his personal life was in chaos and his head wasn’t in the right place. And Dylan was guiltily aware that he’d jumped at the excuse rather than face up to the fact that he wasn’t a very good godfather.

He’d agreed to be Tyler’s guardian. Of course he had. For the same reason that Emmy had agreed, probably, wanting to support his best friend. But he’d never thought it would actually happen. He’d considered himself to be a safety net that would never need to be used.

And now...

Lack of sleep. That was why his head was all over the place. There was a black hole where his best friend had once been. And now there were all these new demands on him and he wasn’t sure he could meet them. He’d promised to be there for Tyler, and he hated himself for the fact that, now he actually had to make good on that promise, he didn’t want to do it. He resented the way that a baby could wreak such havoc on his life and turn everything upside down; and then he felt guilty all over again for resenting someone so tiny and defenceless, because it wasn’t the baby’s fault and—well, he was being selfish.

Emmy was offering him a get-out. It would be, oh, so easy to take it. And yet Dylan knew that he’d never respect himself again if he took it—if he did what his mother had done, and dumped all his responsibilities on someone else. If he ignored a child who needed him.

‘I know it isn’t what Pete and Ally wanted,’ Emmy said, clearly oblivious to the turmoil in Dylan’s head. ‘But it’s not fair to keep uprooting Tyler, just to suit ourselves.’

‘He’s a baby. He’s not even going to notice his surroundings,’ Dylan said.

‘Actually, he is. And if we did alternate weeks he’d have to get used to two different sets of rules, two different atmospheres. That’s too much to expect.’

‘And you’re an expert on childcare?’ he asked, knowing how nasty it sounded but unable to stop himself, because it was easier to fight with her than to admit how mixed up and miserable he felt right now.

‘No. But I’ve read up on it. I’ve spent time with him. And I know how Ally wanted him brought up.’

‘Fair point,’ he muttered, feeling even more guilty. He hadn’t done any of those things.

‘You don’t want to live with him, but you don’t want to let me have full-time care of him, either.’ She sighed. ‘So what do you want, Dylan?’

‘Pete and Ally back. Life as it was supposed to be.’ The words came out before he could stop them.

‘Well, unless you can turn into a superhero and spin the world round the other way to reverse time, and then stop the accident happening...’ She looked away. ‘Life isn’t like the movies. I wish it could be. That I could wave a magic wand and everything would be OK again. But I can’t. I’m a normal godmother, not a fairy godmother. And we have to do what’s right for Tyler. To make his world as good as it can be, now his parents are gone and he has only us.’

She was right. Which made Dylan feel even more guilty. He was acting like a spoiled brat, crying for the moon and stars. And it was wrong. ‘So what do you suggest?’

‘The way I see it, we have two choices. Either we do what Pete and Ally wanted, and we find some way to be civil to each other while we bring up their child, or you let me bring him up on my own.’

‘Or I could bring him up on my own,’ Dylan suggested, nettled that she hadn’t listed it as a third option.

She scoffed. ‘So, what? You get a live-in nanny and dump his care on her, and see him for two seconds when you get home from work?’

‘That’s unfair.’

‘Is it?’ she asked pointedly.

He’d rather have all his teeth pulled out without anaesthetic than admit it to her, but it was probably accurate. ‘I don’t want to live with you.’ He didn’t want to live with anyone.

‘Newsflash. I don’t want to live with you, either. But I’m prepared to put Tyler’s needs before mine. Just as I know Ally would’ve done for me, if our positions were reversed.’

And just as Pete would’ve done for him. Disgust at himself flared through Dylan’s body. At heart, he really was a chip off the old block, as selfish as his mother. And that didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t want to be like her. ‘Caring for a baby on your own is a hell of a commitment.’

‘I know. But I’m prepared to do it.’

‘Pete and Ally knew it was too much to ask one person to do. It’s why they asked us both.’

‘And you’ve had second thoughts.’ She shrugged. ‘Look, it’s fine. I’ll manage. I can always ask my mum for help.’

Which was a lot more than Dylan could do. And how pathetic was he to resent that?

‘I need some time to think about this,’ he said. Time where he could work things out, without anyone crowding his head. Where he could do what he always did when he made a business decision: work out all the scenarios, decide which one had the most benefits and least risks. Plan things without any emotions getting in the way and messing things up. ‘How long is it until you need to get back to Tyler?’

‘Mum said she could babysit for as long as I needed. I had no idea how long things would take at the solicitor’s.’

He made a snap decision. ‘OK. We’ll meet again in an hour. When we’ve both had time to get our heads round it.’

‘I don’t need t—’ she began, then shut up. ‘You’re right. I’ve had time to think about what the social worker said. You haven’t. And it’s a big deal. Of course you need time to think about it. Is an hour enough?’

He’d make sure it was. ‘An hour’s fine. I’ll see you back here then.’


CHAPTER TWO

FRESH AIR. THAT would help, for starters. Dylan found the nearest park and walked, ignoring the noise from tourists and families.

Pros and cons. He didn’t want to live with anyone. He was still licking his wounds from the end of his marriage—ironic, considering that he’d been the one to end it. And even more ironic that, if Nadine had waited six more months before issuing that ultimatum, she would’ve had her dream.

But it was too late, now. He couldn’t go back. He didn’t love her anymore, and he knew she was seeing someone else. Someone who was prepared to give her what he wouldn’t. What hurt most now was that he’d failed at being a husband.

That left him with a slightly less complicated situation; though it didn’t make his decision any easier. If he did have to live with someone else, an emotional, flaky woman and a tiny baby would be right at the bottom of his list. He had a business to run—something that took up as much of his energy as he could give. He didn’t have time for a baby.

But...

If he backed out, if he let Emmy shoulder all the responsibilities and look after the baby, he’d only be able to block out the guilt for a short time. It would eat away at him, to the point where it would affect his business decisions and therefore the livelihoods of everyone who worked for him. Besides, how could he live with himself if he abandoned the child his best friend had loved so dearly?

Given how often he’d been dumped as a child, how could he do the same thing to this baby?

He couldn’t let Tyler down. Couldn’t break a promise he’d made.

Which meant he had to find a way of coexisting with Emmy.

She’d said earlier that they wouldn’t be living together, just sharing a house. They could lead completely separate lives. All they’d need to do was to set up a rota for childcare and then brief each other at a handover. He could do that. OK, so he’d have to delegate more at work, to carve out that extra time, but it was doable. His flat was on a short-term lease, so that wasn’t a problem. And he had no intention of getting involved with anyone romantically, so that wouldn’t be a problem in the future, either.

So the decision was easy, after all.

He walked back to the café, and was slightly surprised to find that Emmy was already there. Or maybe she’d never left. Whatever.

‘Coffee?’ he asked. ‘You paid last time, so this one’s on me.’

‘Thank you.’

He ordered coffee then joined her at the table. ‘If we’re going to share a house and Tyler’s care, then we need to sort out some ground rules. Set up a rota.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Obviously. Childcare and housework.’

‘Not housework. We’ll get a housekeeper.’

She shook her head. ‘I can’t afford to pay a housekeeper.’

‘I can. So that’s settled.’

‘No. This is shared equally. Time and bills.’

Did she have to be so stubborn about this? It was a practical decision. The idea was to look at how they could make this work, with the least pain to both of them. Why do something he didn’t have time for and didn’t enjoy, when he could pay someone to do it? ‘Look, I’m going to have a hard enough time fitting a baby into my work schedule, without adding in extra stuff. And I’m sure it’s the same for you. It makes sense to pay someone to clean the house and take some of the pressure off us.’

‘I can probably stretch to paying someone to clean for a couple of hours a week,’ she said, ‘but that’s as far as it goes.’

‘So you’re saying we both have to cook?’

‘Well, obviously. It’s a bit stupid, both of us cooking separately. It makes sense to share.’ She stared at him. ‘Are you telling me you can’t cook?’

He shrugged. ‘I shared a house with Pete at university.’ And Emmy must know how hopeless Pete was—had been, Dylan corrected himself with a jolt—in the kitchen. ‘So it was starve, eat nothing but junk, or learn to cook.’

‘And what did you opt for?’

Did she really have to ask? He narrowed his eyes at her, just to make the point that she was being overpicky. ‘I learned to cook. I only do basic stuff—don’t expect Michelin-star standard—but it’ll be edible and you won’t get food poisoning.’ He paused as a nasty thought struck him. ‘Does that mean you don’t cook?’

‘I can do the basics,’ she said. ‘I shared a house with Ally at university.’

And Ally was an excellent cook. Dylan had never turned down the offer of a meal at his best friend’s; he was pretty sure it must’ve been the same for Emmy. ‘And she did all the cooking?’ he asked.

‘Our deal was that she cooked and I cleaned.’ Emmy shrugged. ‘Though I picked up a few tips from her along the way.’

But she wasn’t claiming to be a superchef. Which made two of them. Basic food it would have to be. Which wasn’t much change from the way he’d been living, the last six months. ‘Right. So we’ll pay a cleaner, and have a rota for childcare and cooking.’

He took a sip of his coffee, though it didn’t do much to clear his head. Three days ago, he’d been just an ordinary workaholic. No commitments—well, almost no commitments, he amended mentally. No commitments once his divorce papers came through and he signed them.

Today, it was a different world. His best friend had died; and it looked as if he’d be sharing the care of his godson with a woman who’d always managed to rub him up the wrong way. Not the life he’d planned or wanted. But he was just going to have to make the best of it.

‘So who looks after Tyler when we’re at work?’ he asked.

‘We take turns.’

‘I’m not with you.’

‘Ally wasn’t planning to go back to work until after his second birthday. She wanted to be a stay-at-home mum and look after her own baby.’ Emmy looked awkward. ‘I don’t think she would’ve wanted us to put him in day care or get a nanny.’

‘We’re not Ally and Pete, so we’re going to have to make a decision that works for both of us,’ Dylan pointed out. ‘We both have a business to run. Taking time off work isn’t going to happen. Not if we want to keep our businesses running.’

‘Unless,’ Emmy suggested, ‘we work flexible hours. Delegate, if we have to.’

‘Delegate?’ He frowned. ‘I thought you were a sole trader?’

‘I am, but you’re not.’

He almost asked her if she was using the royal ‘we’, and stopped himself just in time. That wasn’t fair. She was trying. And he bit back the snippy comment that she was trying in more than one sense of the word.

‘Are you a morning or an evening person?’ she asked.

He usually worked both. That had been another of Nadine’s complaints: Dylan was a workaholic who was always in the office or in his study. ‘Either.’

‘I prefer working in the evenings. So, if you’re not bothered, how about you go in early and I’ll take care of Tyler; and then you take over from me at, say, half-three, so I can get on with my work?’

‘And what if I need to have a late meeting?’

‘We can be flexible,’ she said. ‘But if you’re late back one day, then you’ll have to be home much earlier, the next day, to give me that time back.’ She shrugged. ‘There might be times when I have meetings and need you to take over from me. So I guess we’re going to have to be flexible, work as a team, and cover for each other when we need to.’

Work as a team with a woman he’d always disliked. A woman who reminded him of the worst aspects of his mother—the sort who’d dump her responsibilities on someone else with no notice so she could drift off somewhere to ‘find herself’.

Dylan pinched himself, just to check that this wasn’t some peculiar nightmare. But it hurt. So there was no waking up from this situation.

‘OK. We’ll sort out a rota between us.’ He paused. ‘I still don’t want to live with you, but I guess the only option is to share the house.’ It didn’t mean they had to share any time together outside the handover slots.

‘So when do we move in to Pete and Ally’s?’ she asked

‘I have to sort out the lease on my flat,’ he said.

‘And I’ll need to talk to the bank about subletting my flat, to make sure it doesn’t affect the mortgage.’

Dylan was surprised. He hadn’t thought Emmy would be together enough to buy her own place.

‘And they might be able to put me in touch with a good letting agency,’ she finished.

She’d obviously thought this through. Then again, she’d had time to think about it. The social worker had talked to her about it already.

‘So we could move in tomorrow.’

He’d rather not move in at all, but he had no choice. Not if he was going to carry out his duty. ‘Tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Look—we really need to put Tyler first. We don’t like each other, but we’ve agreed to make an effort for his sake. What happens if we really can’t get on?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘In a business, if you hire someone in a senior role, you’d have a trial period to make sure you suited each other. Then you’d review it and decide on the best way forward.’

‘This isn’t a job, Dylan.’

‘I know, but I think a trial period might be the fairest way for all of us. Give it three months. See if we can make it work.’

She nodded. ‘And, if we can’t, then you’ll agree that I’ll have sole care of Tyler?’

He wasn’t ready to agree to that. ‘We’ll review it,’ he said. ‘See what the viable options are.’

‘OK. Three months.’ She paused. ‘But if anything big comes up, we discuss it before the situation gets out of hand.’

That worked for him. ‘Agreed.’

‘So that’s settled.’ She lifted her chin. ‘Before we go any further, I need to know something. Is there anyone who’d be upset about us sharing a house?’

He frowned. ‘I’ve already told you, I’m separated from Nadine. It won’t be a problem.’

‘What about the woman you had an affair with?’

He stared at her in disbelief. ‘What woman?’

‘Oh, come on. It’s the main reason why marriages break down. Someone has an affair. Usually the man.’

Was she really that cynical?

Had that happened to her?

He couldn’t remember Pete or Ally ever talking about going to Emmy’s wedding, but at the end of the day a marriage certificate was just a piece of paper. Maybe Emmy had been living with someone who’d let her down in that way. ‘Not that it’s any of your business why my marriage broke up, but for the record neither of us had an affair,’ he said tightly.

Colour stained her cheeks, ‘I apologise.’

Which was something, he supposed. ‘There’s nobody who would be affected by us sharing a house,’ he said quietly.

Or was there another reason why she’d asked? A way to introduce the subject, maybe, because there was someone in her life who’d be upset? ‘If it’s a problem for you, I’m happy to—’

‘There’s nobody,’ she cut in.

Was it his imagination, or did she suddenly look tired and miserable and lonely?

No. He was just reflecting how he felt on her. Tired and miserable, because he’d barely slept since the news of the crash; and lonely, because the one person Dylan could’ve talked to about this—well, he’d been in that crash and he wasn’t here anymore.

‘Though I could do without a string of dates being paraded through the house,’ she added.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not quite divorced yet. Do you really think I’m dating?’ Despite the fact that he knew his almost-ex wife was, he wasn’t.

She grimaced. ‘Sorry. I take that back. It’s not your fault I have a rubbish taste in men. I shouldn’t tar you with the same brush as them.’

He’d been right, then. Someone had let her down. More than one, he’d guess.

Dylan had never noticed before, probably because he’d been more preoccupied with being annoyed by her, but Emmy Jacobs was actually pretty. Slender, with a fine bone structure highlighted by her gamine haircut. Her hair was defiantly plum: not a natural shade, but it suited her, bringing out the depths in her huge grey eyes.

Though what on earth was he doing, thinking about Emmy in those sorts of terms?

Better put it down to the shock of bereavement. He and Emmy might be about to share a house and the care of a baby, but that was as far as it would go. They’d be lucky to keep things civil between them. And he definitely wasn’t in the market for any kind of relationship. Been there, done that, and failed spectacularly. It had taught him to steer clear, in future. He was better off on his own. It meant there was nobody to disappoint. Nobody to walk away, the way his mother had and Nadine had.

‘I assume you have a set of keys to Pete and Ally’s house?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘You, too?’

‘So I could keep an eye on the place while they’re not there. For emergencies. Which I always thought would be a burst pipe or something like that. Not...’ His throat closed, and he couldn’t get the words out. For the first time in years, he was totally speechless.

To his surprise, Emmy reached across the table to take his hand and squeezed it briefly. With sympathy, not pity. ‘Me, too. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and discover that this is all just some incredibly realistic nightmare and everything’s just fine. Except I’ve woken up too many times already and found out that it’s not.’

Whatever her faults—and Dylan knew there were a lot of them—Emmy’s feelings for Ally and Pete were in no doubt. Surprising himself further, he returned the squeeze. ‘And we’ve still got the funeral to go through.’

She sighed and withdrew her hand. ‘I guess their parents will want to arrange it.’

‘You said yourself, Pete’s dad is elderly and Ally’s mum isn’t well. They’ll need support. I was going to offer to sort it out for them. If they tell me what they want, I can arrange it.’

‘That’s good of you to take the burden off their shoulders.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Count me in on the support front. Anything you need me to do, tell me and I’ll do it.’

She wasn’t being polite, Dylan knew. The tears were shimmering in her eyes again. And he wanted to get out of here as fast as he could, before she actually started crying. ‘Thanks. I guess we’d better exchange phone numbers. Home, work, whatever.’

She nodded, and took her mobile phone from her handbag. It was a matter of seconds to give each other the details. ‘And we’ll meet at the house after work tomorrow to sort out the rota.’

‘OK. I’ll call you when I’m on my way.’

‘Thanks.’ She drained her cup. ‘I’d better get back to Tyler. See you later.’

He watched her walk out of the café. The woman who annoyed him more than anyone he’d ever met. The woman he was going to move in with tomorrow.

Yeah, life was really throwing him a curveball. And he was just going to have to deal with it. Somehow.

* * *

The next morning, Emmy unlocked the door to Pete and Ally’s three-storey Georgian house in Islington, pressed in the code for the alarm, and put her small suitcase down in the hallway.

‘It’s just you and me for now, Ty,’ she said softly to the baby, who was securely strapped into his sling and cradled against her heart. ‘We’re home. Except—’ her breath caught ‘—it’s going to be with me and Dylan looking after you, from now on, instead of your mum and dad.’

It still felt wrong. But over the course of the day she managed to make a list of the rest of the things she needed to bring from her flat, feed Tyler, give him a bath and put him to bed in his cot, and make a basic spaghetti sauce for dinner so that all she’d have to do was heat it through and cook some pasta when Dylan turned up after he’d finished work.

Home.

Would she ever come to think of this place as home? Emmy thought with longing of her own flat in Camden. It was small, but full of light; and it was hers. From next week, a stranger would be living there and enjoying the views over the local park. And she would be living here in a much more spacious house—the sort she would never have been able to afford on her own—with Dylan and Tyler.

Almost like a family.

Just what she’d always wanted.

Well, she didn’t want Dylan, she amended. But Emmy had envied part of her best friend’s life: having a husband who loved her and a gorgeous baby. Something Emmy had wanted, herself. A real family.

‘But I didn’t want to have it this way, Ally,’ she said softly. ‘I wanted someone of my own. Someone who wouldn’t let me down.’ Someone that maybe somebody else should’ve picked for her, given how bad her own choices of life partner had been in the past.

And that family she was fantasising about was just that: a fantasy. The baby wasn’t really hers, and neither was the house. And she was sharing the house with Dylan Harper, as a co-guardian. She couldn’t think of anyone less likely to be the love of her life, just as she knew that she was the exact opposite of the kind of women Dylan liked. Chalk and cheese wasn’t the half of it.

But then again, Tyler might not be her flesh and blood, but he was her responsibility now. Her godson. A baby she’d known for every single day of his little life. A baby she’d cradled in her arms when he was only a few hours old, sitting on the side of her best friend’s hospital bed and feeling the same surge of love she’d felt for the woman who’d been as close as a sister to her.

She drew her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms round her legs, blinking away the tears. ‘I promise you I’ll love Tyler as if he was my own, Ally,’ she said softly into the empty room. ‘I’ll do my best by him.’

She just hoped that her best would be good enough. Though this was one thing she really couldn’t afford to fail at. There wasn’t a plan B.

The lights on the baby listener glowed steadily, and Emmy couldn’t hear a thing; Tyler was obviously sound asleep. She glanced at her watch. Hopefully Dylan wouldn’t be too much longer. In the meantime, she had a job to do. She uncurled and headed back to the kitchen, where she took a large piece of card and marked it out into a two-week rota for childcare and chores. She worked steadily, putting in different coloured sticky notes to show which were her slots and which were Dylan’s.

All the way through, she kept glancing at her watch. There was still no sign of Dylan, and it was getting on to half-past seven.

This was ridiculous. Had he forgotten that he was meant to be here, sorting things out with her? Or was he just in denial?

And to think he’d pegged himself as the sensible, organised one.

Yeah, right.

Irritated, she picked up her mobile phone and rang him.

He answered within two rings. ‘Dylan Harper.’ Though he sounded absent, as if his attention was elsewhere.

‘It’s Emmy,’ she said crisply. ‘Emmy Jacobs.’ Just in case he was trying to block that out, too.

There was a pause. ‘Oh.’

‘Are you not supposed to be somewhere right now?’ She made her voice supersaccharine.

‘You suggested we meefairt at the house today after work.’

‘Mmm-hmm. Which is where I am now. So are you expecting me to stay up until midnight or whenever you can be bothered to turn up and sort things through?’

He sighed. ‘Don’t nag.’

Nag? If he’d been fair about this, she wouldn’t have to nag. ‘This is meant to be about teamwork, Dylan. There’s no “I” in team,’ she reminded him.

‘Oh, spare me the clichés, Emmy,’ he drawled.

Her patience finally gave out. ‘Just get your backside over here so we can sort things out,’ she said, and hung up.


CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS ANOTHER hour before Emmy heard the front door open, and by that point she was ready to climb the walls with frustration.

Be conciliatory, she reminded herself. Do this for Pete and Ally. And Tyler. Even though you want to smack the man over the head with a wok, you have to be nice. At least for now. Make things work. It’s only for three months, and then he’ll realise that it’d be best if you looked after Tyler on your own. Come on, Emmy. You can do this. Smile.

‘Good evening. Is pasta OK with you for dinner?’ she asked when he walked into the kitchen.

He looked surprised. ‘You cooked dinner for me?’

‘As I was here, yes. By the way, that means it’s your turn to cook for us tomorrow.’

‘Uh-huh.’ He looked wary.

‘One thing you need to know. If I get hungry, I get grumpy.’ She gave him a level stare. ‘Don’t make me wait in future. You really won’t like me then.’ Which was a bit ironic. He didn’t like her now, and he hadn’t even seen her on a really bad day.

‘You could’ve eaten without me,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have minded just reheating something in the microwave.’

‘I had no idea how long you were going to be, and I would’ve felt bad if you’d turned up while I was halfway through eating my dinner.’ She paused. ‘Do you really work an hour’s commute away from here?’

‘No. I work in Docklands. About half an hour away.’ At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘I had to finish something, first.’

She blew out a breath. ‘OK. Take the lecture as read. We’re sharing Tyler’s care so, in future, you’re either going to have to learn to delegate, or you’ll have to work from home when the baby’s napping.’

Hearing his godson’s name seemed to galvanise Dylan. ‘Where is he?’

‘Asleep in his cot.’ She gestured to the kitchen table. ‘Sit down. I’ve made a start on the rota, given what we discussed yesterday morning. Perhaps you can review it while I finish cooking dinner, and move any of the sticky notes if you need to.’

‘Sticky notes?’ He looked puzzled.

‘Because it’s a provisional rota. Sticky notes mean it’s easy to move things around without the rota getting messy. Once we’ve agreed our slots, I’ll write it in properly. I’ll get it laminated. And then we can use sticky notes day by day to make any changes to the rota—that way it’ll be an obvious change so we’ll both remember it.’

‘OK.’ He looked at her. ‘Sorry.’

Dylan Harper had apologised to her? That was a first. Actually, no, it was the second time he’d said sorry to her in as many days. And, even though Emmy thought that he more than owed her that apology just now, she decided to be gracious about it. Be the bigger person. ‘It’s a bit of a radical lifestyle change for both of us. I think it’ll take us a while to get used to it.’

He nodded. ‘True.’

She concentrated on cooking the pasta and heating the sauce, then served up their meal at the kitchen table.

He put the card to one side. ‘The rota looks fine to me. I notice it’s a two-week one.’

‘I thought that would be fair, giving each other alternate weekends off.’

‘Yes, that’s fair,’ he agreed. He ate a mouthful of the pasta. ‘And this is good. Thank you. I wasn’t expecting dinner. I was going to make myself a sandwich or something.’

She knew exactly where he was coming from. ‘I do that too often. It doesn’t feel worth cooking for one, does it?’

‘Especially if cooking isn’t your thing.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I never expected to be living with—well, you.’

He’d made that perfectly clear. He really didn’t have to harp on about it. ‘We’ll just have to make the best of it, for Tyler’s sake,’ she said dryly.

‘Agreed. How did you get on with the mortgage and the letting agency?’ he asked.

‘It’s all sorted. I’m letting my flat in Camden from Monday. You?’

‘It’s a short-term lease. Nadine has the house.’

His wife. ‘Have you told her about this?’

His expression said very clearly, that’s none of your business, and she shut up. No, it wasn’t her business. And he’d already said that nobody would be upset by him sharing a house and Tyler’s care with her.

‘I’ll go back to my place tonight to pick up the basics, and move the rest in over the next few days.’ He looked at her. ‘I assume you’ve done the same?’

‘Yes to the basics today, but I haven’t chosen a room yet. I was waiting for you.’ She grimaced. ‘I’m really glad Ally and Pete have two spare bedrooms as well as the nursery. I don’t think I could face using their room.’

‘Me, neither.’ He shrugged. ‘Which of the spare rooms I have doesn’t bother me. Pick whichever one you like.’

‘Thanks.’ Though it wasn’t the bedroom that concerned her most. ‘Can I use Pete’s study? I work from home,’ she explained, ‘and I need somewhere to set up my equipment. And that means a room with decent lighting.’

She was glad she’d been conciliatory when he said, ‘That’s fine by me. I can work anywhere with a laptop and a briefcase. So you have, what, some kind of workbench?’

It was the first time he’d ever shown any interest in her work, and it unnerved her slightly. She wasn’t used to Dylan being anything other than abrupt to her. ‘Yes, and I have a desk where I sketch the pieces before I make them. And before Tyler gets mobile I’ll need to get a baby gate fixed on the doorway. I don’t want him anywhere near my tools because they’re sharp and dangerous.’ She looked at him. ‘Are you any good at DIY?’

‘No. I’d rather pay someone to do it,’ he said.

That was refreshing. The men she’d dated in the past had all taken the attitude that having a Y chromosome meant that they’d automatically be good at DIY, and they weren’t prepared to admit when they were hopeless and couldn’t even put a shelf on straight. Then again, she wasn’t actually dating Dylan. He might be easy on the eye—she had to admit that he was good-looking—but he was the last man she’d ever want to date. He was way too uptight. ‘OK. I know the number of a good handyman. I’ll get it sorted.’

He looked at their empty plates. ‘I haven’t organised a cleaner yet.’

‘And I wouldn’t expect a cleaner to do dirty dishes,’ Emmy said crisply. ‘Especially as Ally and Pete have a dishwasher.’

‘Point taken. I’ll stack the dishwasher, then go and pick up my stuff.’

She chose her room while he was out, opting for the room she’d stayed in several times as a guest. It was strange to think that—unless things changed dramatically during their three-month trial—she’d be living here until Tyler had grown up. And even stranger to think she’d be sharing the house with Dylan Harper. Even if it might only be for a short time.

Still, she’d made a promise to Ally. She wouldn’t back out.

She unpacked the small case she’d brought with her, then checked on Tyler. He was still sound asleep. Unable to resist, she reached down to touch his cheek. Such soft, soft skin. And he was so vulnerable. She and Dylan really couldn’t let him down, whatever their doubts about each other. ‘Sleep tight, baby,’ she whispered, and went downstairs to the kitchen to wait for Dylan. She’d left the baby listener on; she glanced at it to make sure the lights were working, then put a cello concerto on low and began to sketch some ideas for the commission she’d been working on before the whole world had turned upside down.

* * *

When Dylan came back to the house, he was surprised to discover that Emmy was still up. He hadn’t expected her to wait up for him. Or was she checking up on him or trying to score some weird kind of point?

‘Is Tyler OK?’ he asked.

She nodded. ‘He’s fast asleep.’

‘Whose turn is it on the rota for night duty?’ Then he grimaced. ‘Forget I asked that. You’ve been looking after him since Ally and Pete went to Venice, so I’ll go tonight if he wakes. Do I need to sleep on the floor in his room?’

‘No. There’s a portable baby listener.’ She indicated the device with lights that was plugged in next to the kettle. ‘Plug it in near your bed, and you’ll hear him if he wakes. The lights change when there’s a noise—the louder the noise, the more lights come on. So that might wake you, too.’

‘Is he, um, likely to wake?’ He didn’t have a clue about how long babies slept or what their routines were. Pete had never talked about it, and Dylan hadn’t really had much to do with babies in the past. His mother was an only child, so there had been no babies in his family while he’d been growing up; and Pete was the first of his friends to have a child. Babies just hadn’t featured in his life.

Although he’d accused Emmy of leaving him to do the serious stuff, he was guiltily aware that he’d never babysat his godson or anything like that, and she clearly had. She’d been a better godparent than he had, by far—much more hands-on. He’d just been selfish and avoided it.

‘He’d just started to sleep through, a couple of weeks back; but I guess he’s picked up on the tension over the last few days because he’s woken every night since the accident.’ Emmy sighed. ‘He might need a nappy change or some milk, or he might just want a cuddle.’

‘How do you know what he needs?’ Babies were too little to tell you. They just screamed.

‘The nappy, you’ll definitely know,’ she said dryly. ‘Just sniff him.’

‘Sniff him?’ Had she really said that?

She smiled. ‘Trust me, you’ll know if he has a dirty nappy. If he’s hungry, he’ll keep bumping his face against you and nuzzling for milk. And if he just wants a cuddle, hold him close and he’ll settle and go to sleep. Eventually.’

‘Poor little mite.’ Dylan felt a muscle clench in his cheek. ‘I hate that Pete’s never going to get to know his son. He’s not going to see him grow up. He’s not going to teach him to ride a bike or swim. He’s not going to...’ He blew out a breath. ‘I just hate all this.’

‘Me, too,’ she said softly. ‘I hate that Ally’s going to miss all the firsts. The first tooth, the first word, the first steps. All the things she was so looking forward to. She was keeping a baby book with every single detail.’

‘I never thought I’d ever be a dad. It wasn’t in my life plan.’ Dylan grimaced. ‘And I haven’t exactly been a hands-on godparent, so far. Not the way you’ve been. I’m ashamed to say it, but I don’t have a clue where I should even start right now.’

‘Most men aren’t that interested in babies until they have their own,’ she said. ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it too much.’

‘I’ve never even changed a nappy before,’ he confessed. There really hadn’t been the need or the opportunity.

‘Are you trying to get out of doing night duty?’

Was she teasing him or was she going to throw a hissy fit? He really wasn’t sure. He couldn’t read her at all. Emmy was almost a stranger, and now she was going to be a huge part of his life, at least for the next three months. Unwanted, unlooked for. A woman who’d always managed to rub him up the wrong way. And he was going to have to be nice to her, to keep the peace for Tyler’s sake. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not trying to get out of it. But you know what you’re doing—you’ve looked after Tyler for the last few days on your own. And I was just thinking, it might be an idea if you teach me what I need to do.’

She blinked at him. ‘You want me to teach you?’ She tested the words as if she didn’t believe he’d just said them.

‘If I don’t have a business skill I need, I take a course to learn it. This is the same sort of thing. It might save us both a lot of hassle,’ he said dryly. ‘And I think it’d be better if you show me in daylight rather than tell me now. You know the old stuff about teaching someone—I hear and I forget, I see and remember, I do and I understand.’

She nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’ll keep the baby listener with me tonight. But, tomorrow, please make sure you’re back early so I can teach you the basics—how to change a nappy, make up a bottle of formula, and do a bath. By early, I mean before five o’clock.’

When was the last time he’d left the office before seven? He couldn’t remember. Tough. Tomorrow, he’d just have to make the effort. ‘Deal,’ he said.

‘OK. See you tomorrow.’

He realised that she’d been working when she closed a folder and picked up a handful of pencils. But then again, hadn’t she said something about preferring to work in the evening? So he squashed the growing feeling of guilt. She was self-employed. A sole trader who didn’t need to keep to traditional business hours. She obviously worked the hours that suited her.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Which room did you pick?’

‘The one opposite Tyler’s.’

Which left the one next to Pete and Ally’s room for him. ‘OK. Thanks.’ And then he realised he hadn’t brought any bedding with him.

‘The bed’s already made up,’ she said. ‘I used linen from Ally and Pete’s airing cupboard. I don’t think they’d mind and it’d be a waste not to use it.’

He pushed a hand through his hair. ‘Sorry. I didn’t realise I’d said that aloud.’

‘It’s a lot to take in. A lot of change.’ She shrugged. ‘We’ll muddle through.’

‘Yeah. Sleep well.’ Which was a stupid thing to say; of course she wouldn’t, because Tyler would wake up.

But she didn’t look annoyed. Her eyes actually crinkled at the corners. Again, Dylan was struck by the fact that Emmy Jacobs was pretty. And again it tipped him off balance. He couldn’t even begin to think about Emmy in that way; it would make things far too complicated.

‘Sleep well, Dylan,’ she said, and strolled out of the kitchen.

* * *

Given how late Dylan had been the previous night, and the fact that Emmy had asked him to be back before five, he thought he’d better take the afternoon off to deal with the baby-care issues. He walked in to the house to find Emmy playing with the baby and singing to him, while the baby gurgled and smiled at her.

This felt distinctly weird. He’d never been that interested in babies and he’d never wanted a family of his own—which was most of the reason why he’d married Nadine, because she’d been just as dedicated to her career as he was and didn’t pose any kind of emotional risk. Or so he’d thought. He hadn’t expected her to change her mind and give him an ultimatum: give me a baby or give me a divorce. He didn’t want a baby, so the choice was obvious.

And now he was here. Instead of being in his minimalist Docklands bachelor flat, he was living in a family home. Sharing the care of a tiny, defenceless baby. And he didn’t have the least idea about what he was doing.

Emmy looked up at him. ‘Hey, Ty, look, it’s Uncle Dylan.’ She smiled. ‘You’re back early.’

It was the first time Dylan could ever remember Emmy smiling spontaneously at him, as if she were genuinely pleased to see him, and he was shocked that it made him feel warm inside.

Was he going crazy, reacting like this to her?

No, of course not. It was just because he’d been knocked off balance by Pete and Ally’s death. Grief made him want to hold someone, that was all; to feel connected to the world, still. He was not becoming attracted to Emmy Jacobs. Even though he was beginning to think that maybe she wasn’t quite who he’d always thought she was.

‘We agreed you were going to teach me about nappies and baths,’ he said. ‘And you asked me to come back early. Here I am.’ He spread his hands. ‘So let’s get it sorted.’

She blew a raspberry on Tyler’s tummy, making the baby giggle. ‘He’s clean at the moment, so we might as well hold off on that side until he really needs a nappy change. But he’s wide awake, so you can play with him.’

‘Play with him?’ Dylan repeated. He knew it was ridiculous—he was the head of a very successful computer consultancy and could sort out tricky business problems quickly and effectively. But he didn’t have a clue about how to play with a baby. He’d never done it. Never needed to do it.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Dylan, you can’t just sit and work on your laptop when you’re in charge and Ty’s awake. You need to play with him. Read to him. Talk to him.’

Dylan frowned. ‘Isn’t he a bit young for books?’

‘No. Pete used to read to him,’ she said softly. ‘Ally read up about it and she wanted Tyler to have a good male role model. So Pete always did the bedtime story.’

OK. Reading to a baby couldn’t be that hard. Talking, too. But playing...where did you start? He didn’t know any baby games. Any nursery rhymes.

As if the panic showed on his face, she smiled at him. ‘Come and give him a cuddle.’

And this was where Dylan got nervous. Where things could go terribly wrong. Because he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. And he hated the fact that he had to take advice from someone as flaky as Emmy, because she clearly knew more about babies than he did. ‘Do I have to hold his head or something?’

‘No. He’s four months old, not a newborn, so he can support his head just fine. He can’t sit up on his own yet, but that’ll happen in a few weeks.’ She looked at him. ‘OK. You might want to change.’

‘Why?’

‘Unless you don’t mind your suit getting creased and needing to go to the cleaner’s more often.’

The question must’ve been written all over his face, because she added, ‘You’re going to be on the floor with him a lot.’

She had a point. ‘I’ll be down in a minute.’ Dylan took the stairs two at a time to his room, then changed into jeans and T-shirt.

When he came downstairs, she gave him an approving look. ‘Righty. He’s all yours.’

Panic seeped through Dylan. What was he meant to do now?

She kissed the baby. ‘See you later, sweetie. Have fun with Uncle Dylan.’ And then she went to hand the baby to him.

He could muddle through this.

But it was important to get it right.

‘Uh—Emmy.’ He really hated this, but what choice did he have? It was ask, or mess it up. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘We’ve already discussed this. Play with him. It’s not rocket science.’

She wasn’t going to make this easy for him, was she? ‘I haven’t had anything to do with babies before.’

She scoffed. ‘He’s four months old and he’s your godson. Of course you’ve spent time with him.’

‘He’s always been asleep or Ally was feeding him. Pete and I didn’t do baby stuff together, not like you and Ally.’

She looked at him and nodded. ‘It must really stick in your craw to have to ask me for help. And if I was a different kind of woman, I’d just walk away and let you get on with it. But Tyler’s needs come first, so I’ll help you.’

‘For his sake, not mine. I get it. But thank you anyway.’

‘So how come you’re so clueless? Pete always said you were the brightest person he knew—Ally, too. And you’re the same age as the rest of us. I don’t understand how, at thirty-five years old, you can know absolutely nothing about babies.’

Although he knew there was a compliment in there, of sorts, at the same time her words were damning. And he was surprised to find himself explaining. ‘I’m an only child. No cousins, no close family.’ At least, not since his grandmother died. His mother had never been close to him. ‘Pete and Ally were the first of my friends to have children, and I...’ He sighed. ‘I guess I’ve been a bit preoccupied, the last few months.’

‘Relationship break-ups tend to do that to you.’ She looked rueful. ‘And yes, I know that from way too much experience. OK. I never thought I’d need to show you any of this, but these are the kinds of things he likes to do with me.’ She sat on the floor and balanced Tyler on her knees. ‘Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great...’ She paused, and the baby clearly knew what was coming because he was beaming his head off. ‘Fall,’ she said, lowering her knees as she straightened her legs, and managing to keep the baby upright at the same time.

Her reward was a rich chuckle from the baby.

Something else that made him feel odd. ‘And you always do the pause?’ he asked, to take his focus off his feelings. This was about learning to care for a baby, not how he felt.

‘I do. He’s learned to anticipate it. He loved doing this with Ally. She used to string it out for ages.’ She blew a raspberry on the baby’s tummy, making him laugh, and handed him to Dylan. ‘Your turn.’

‘Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,’ Dylan intoned, feeling absolutely ridiculous and wishing he were a hundred miles away. Or, better still, back at his desk—where at least he knew what he was doing. ‘Humpty Dumpty had a great...’ He glanced at Emmy, who nodded. ‘Fall,’ he finished, and straightened his legs, letting the baby whoosh downwards but supporting him so he didn’t fall.

Tyler laughed.

And something around Dylan’s heart felt as if it had cracked.

* * *

There was a look of sheer wonder on Dylan’s face as Tyler laughed up at him. He really hadn’t been exaggerating about being a hands-off godfather, and this was obviously the first time he’d actually sat down with the baby and played with him. Emmy had the feeling that Dylan Harper, the stuffiest man in the world, kept everyone at arm’s length. Well, you couldn’t do that when you lived with a baby. So this was really going to change Dylan. It might make him human, instead of being a judgemental, formal machine.

When he did the Humpty Dumpty game for the third time, and laughed at the same time as the baby, she knew he was definitely changing. Tyler was about to turn Dylan Harper’s life upside down again—but this time, in a good way.

‘OK for me to go to work?’ she asked.

‘Sure. And, um, thanks for the lesson.’ He still looked awkward and embarrassed, but at least they’d managed to be civil to each other.

Hopefully they could keep it up.

‘No problem,’ she said. ‘I’ll be in Pete’s study if you get stuck with anything.’


CHAPTER FOUR

DYLAN WAS SURPRISED to discover how much he enjoyed playing with the baby. How good it was to hear that rich chuckle and know that he’d given Tyler a moment of pure happiness. If anyone had told him three weeks ago that he’d be having fun waving a toy duck around and quacking loudly, he would’ve dismissed it as utter insanity. But, this afternoon, it was a revelation.

He was actually disappointed when Tyler fell asleep.

Though it wasn’t for long. The baby woke again and started crying, and Dylan picked him up almost on instinct. Then he wrinkled his nose. Revolting. It looked as if he needed another lesson from Emmy. He went to find her in Pete’s study.

‘Problem?’ she asked.

‘He needs a nappy change. Can you show me how to do it?’

‘Ah, no. You’re the one who said, “I do and I understand” is the best. I’ll talk you through it.’

When they went upstairs to the nursery, Emmy did at least help Dylan get the baby out of his little all-in-one suit, for which he was grateful. But then she stood back and talked him through the actual process of nappy-changing.

How could someone so small produce something so—so stinky? he wondered.

He used wipe after wipe to clean the baby.

And it was only when he realised Emmy was grinning that he thought there might’ve been another way of doing it—one that maybe didn’t use half a box of wipes at a time. ‘So you’re perfect at this, are you?’ he asked, slightly put out.

‘No—it usually takes me three or four wipes. Though Ally used to be able to do it in one.’ Her smile faded, and she helped him put Tyler back in his Babygro.

‘I’m going to do some work,’ she said. ‘Call me when Tyler needs a bath. His routine’s on the board in the kitchen, so you’ll know when he’s due for a feed. If he’s grizzly before then, try him with a drink. There’s some cooled boiled water in sterilised bottles in the fridge.’

Again, Dylan was surprised by Emmy’s efficiency. Maybe he’d misjudged her really badly, or he’d just seen her on bad days in the past—a lot of bad days—and taken her the wrong way.

‘Oh, and you need to wind him after a feed,’ she added. ‘Hold him upright against your shoulder, rub his back, and he’ll burp for you.’

‘Got it.’

‘Are you sure you can do this?’

No. He wasn’t sure at all. But he didn’t want Emmy to think that he was bailing out already. ‘Sure,’ he lied.

He carried Tyler downstairs and checked the routine board in the kitchen—which Emmy had somehow managed to get written up properly and laminated while he’d been at work. Apparently the baby needed a nap for about an hour; then he’d need a bath and then finally a feed.

And it was also his turn to make dinner.

He hadn’t even thought about buying food. He’d only focused on the fact that he’d needed to get everything done and leave the office ridiculously early. He opened the fridge door, and was relieved to discover that there were ingredients for a stir-fry. And there were noodles and soy sauce in the cupboard. OK. He could work with that.

Now, how did you get a baby to sleep?




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