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One Secret Night, One Secret Baby
Charlene Sands


An unforgettable baby dilemma. Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Charlene Sands.During a city-wide power outage, Emma Bloom turns to her old friend Dylan McKay for help. The Hollywood heartthrob comes to her rescue, action-hero style, and sees her safely home. But what happened next? The details are blurry—because Emma was tipsy, and an on-set accident leaves Dylan's memory of that night in tatters.But soon irrefutable evidence surfaces: Emma is pregnant. It's hard enough sharing her secret with a man used to fending off scheming women. But Dylan does the right thing and proposes. And then, one day, his memory returns…







Her entire body relaxed.

Of course he’d give her a sisterly kiss on the cheek. She closed her eyes.

His lips came down softly.

On her mouth.

Oh, she’d died and gone to heaven. His lips were warm and giving and soothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brazenly returned the kiss. Wow. It was all so new. And exciting. Dylan McKay was kissing her on Moonlight Beach at sunset, and she was fully in the moment this time. There were no gaps of memory from a fuzzy brain. There wasn’t anything but right now, this speck of time, and she relished the taste of him.

But something still seemed slightly off with his kiss. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was it just that she was fully aware, fully attuned to him right now?

Dylan broke off the kiss first. “Thank you. I needed your company tonight, Emma.”

What could she say? Was she foolish enough to think he remembered their night of passion and wanted more? No, that wasn’t it. Dylan needed comforting. At least she could give him that.

Her secret was safe.

“You’re welcome, Dylan.”

* * *

One Secret Night, One Secret Baby is part of the series Moonlight Beach Bachelors: Three men living in paradise… and longing for more.




One Secret Night,

One Secret Baby

Charlene Sands







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


CHARLENE SANDS is a USA TODAY bestselling author of more than thirty-five romance novels. Her books have been honored with a National Readers’ Choice Award, a CataRomance Reviewers’ Choice Award, and she’s a double recipient of the Booksellers’ Best Award.

Charlene writes “hunky heroes with heart.” She knows a little something about true romance—she married her high school sweetheart! When not writing, Charlene enjoys sunny Pacific beaches, great coffee, reading books from her favorite authors and spending time with her family. You can find her on Facebook and Twitter. Charlene loves to hear from her readers! You can write her at PO Box 4883, West Hills, CA 91308, USA, or sign up for her newsletter for fun blogs and ongoing contests at www.charlenesands.com (http://www.charlenesands.com).


Special thanks to my wonderful son-in-law,

Zac Prange, who helped me with the on-set moviemaking details of this story. Your support and expertise really meant a great deal, keeping the story honest and authentic. With love to you, Nikki my fabulous daughter, and of course your two sweet princesses who brighten our lives every day, Everley and Lila.


Contents

Cover (#u7cb684fc-d0bb-535a-abef-9c2ba997a5c8)

Introduction (#ucfdbdbf4-550e-5cd7-85be-eec5fccf9bd2)

Title Page (#ub2323801-768a-5fbb-9de4-b70a14901751)

About the Author (#u2dd36805-14f2-5422-a3d3-f5ce4f347a33)

Dedication (#u6e1665b1-c14a-5dc6-81f5-a95b1c0e2323)

One (#ulink_89d31958-44ec-58a2-9a6d-978a5949ce51)

Two (#ulink_c310810d-9eb0-5f46-9d09-fc546427fed8)

Three (#ulink_c8059543-e8b7-53ea-9094-3bffd609eaf6)

Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


One (#ulink_e2e7708c-5d98-5974-8abe-f51d9f7eec52)

She wasn’t a one-night stand sort of girl.

Emma Rae Bloom was predictable, hardworking, ambitious and least of all, adventurous. Boring. She never did anything out of the ordinary. She was measured and sure and patient. Double boring. The one time she’d crushed that mold, breaking it to bits, was at her neighbor Eddie’s blowout bash at Havens on Sunset Boulevard in celebration of his thirtieth birthday last month. She’d partied hard, lost her inhibitions as well as her mind during the now infamous Los Angeles blackout and wound up in bed with her best friend’s brother, Hollywood heartthrob in the flesh, Dylan McKay.

She’d had secret dibs on Brooke’s brother since the age of twelve. He was the older boy with sea-blue eyes and stubble on his face who’d treated her kindly and given her a measuring stick to compare all men against.

There was no going back to reclaim their night together, although her memory of her time with Dylan was almost nonexistent. Just her luck, she had her first ever one-night stand with the hottest guy on earth and her mind had gone as foggy as a London winter day. Too many mango mojitos could do that, she’d been told.

She stood at the port-side railing of Dylan’s yacht now. As he approached her, his head wrapped with gauze bandages, a haunted look on his face spoke of sadness and grief. It was a somber day, but beaming rays of sunshine and stunning marshmallow fluff clouds didn’t seem to know that. She pushed her sunglasses farther up her nose, grateful to hide her true emotions.

Roy Benjamin was gone, killed in the freakish stunt accident on the set of Dylan’s Navy SEAL movie. The tragedy had rocked Hollywood insiders and made a big splash on the news, even eclipsing the story of how the lights went out in the city just the day before. It wasn’t just Roy’s death that had rocked the entertainment world and hit the headlines with a bang, but Dylan’s amnesia resulting from the same blast that had killed his friend.

“Here, have a soda.” Brooke walked up beside her brother and offered Emma a glass. “You look like you could use one.”

“Thanks.” She accepted the benign drink. No more alcohol for her, thank you very much. “It’s a hard day for everyone.” She sipped her cola.

Standing between her and Brooke, Dylan wrapped his arms around them. “I’m glad you both are here with me today.”

Emma’s nerves squeezed tight. She hadn’t seen Dylan since the night of the blackout. The supportive arm around her shoulders shouldn’t elicit any of the sensations she was having. It shouldn’t. She sighed. His hand caressed her upper arm lightly, sending shock waves through her system. As the yacht backed out of its slip, his body lurched, two hundred pounds of solid granite shoulder to shoulder with her. She stopped breathing for a second and gripped the railing.

“Of course we’d be here,” Brooke said. “Roy was a friend of ours, too. Right, Emma?”

She gave Dylan a quick smile. It was such a tragedy that a man so vital and strong as Roy had died at such a young age. He was a Dylan look-alike, his stunt double and a close friend to the McKays. Emma only knew Roy through them and he’d always been nice to her.

Dylan’s lips curled up a little, the subdued smile of a man in mourning. “I miss him already.”

He tightened his hold, bringing their bodies close. He was the consummate movie star, sunglasses shading his face, blond hair blowing in the breeze and a body carved from hard gym workouts and daily runs. He was Hollywood royalty, a man who’d managed to steer clear of lasting relationships his entire adult life. Darkly tanned, as talented and smart as he was good-looking, he had it all.

Emma should be concentrating on Roy’s death instead of her dilemma. Yet as she’d dressed this morning readying for Roy’s memorial, she’d rehearsed what she would say if Dylan remembered anything that happened between them during the blackout.

I wasn’t myself that night. The blackout freaked me out. I’ve been afraid of the dark since I was a kid and I begged you to stay with me. Can we just go on being friends?

Now it looked as if she could dodge that confession. Soul-melting blue eyes, dimmed now from grief, settled upon her as they always had. He saw her as his sister Brooke’s friend, nothing more. He had no memory of their night together. The doctors termed it dissociative amnesia. He was blocked and might never remember the hours or days leading up to the blast that took his friend’s life and sent a hunk of shrapnel tunneling into his head. He’d been knocked unconscious and had woken up hours later, in the hospital.

He let her go to sip his soda and she began breathing normally again. Cautiously she took a step away from him. Having his hand on her played too much havoc with her brain. She had escaped telling him the truth today, and the devil on her shoulder whispered in her ear, Why rock the boat? Clever little fiend. This can be your little secret.

Could she really get away with not having to tell him?

She battled with the notion as the yacht made its way out of Marina del Rey, traveling past the docks at a snail’s pace. Pungent sea scents filled her nostrils, seagulls squawked overhead and one white-winged bird landed on a buoy and quietly watched the yacht head into open seas.

“I guess it’s time,” Dylan said, minutes later, once they were far enough out to sea. Dylan wanted to do this alone, with just his family. Later today, a memorial would be held at his Moonlight Beach home open to Roy’s friends and fellow crew and cast members, the only family he’d ever known. That’s when Emma and Brooke would go to work, hosting an informal buffet dinner in Roy’s honor. It definitely wasn’t a Parties-To-Go kind of event, but Dylan had turned to them for help. “Roy always joked, if he missed the net from a ten-story fall, to make sure I tossed his ashes from the Classy Lady. He loved this boat, but I never thought I’d ever have to do this.”

Brooke’s doe eyes softened on her brother and Emma hurt inside for both of them. Brooke and Dylan were miles apart in most things, but when push came to shove, they were always there for each other. Emma envied that. She had no siblings. She had no real family, except for foster parents, two people who’d taken her in and then neglected her as a child. She hadn’t hit the jackpot in the parent department, that was for sure. Not like Brooke. Brooke was Dylan’s younger foster sister whom his parents had eventually adopted. They were totally amazing. They’d been better parents to Emma than the two who’d collected monthly checks on her behalf.

Dylan made swift work of saying heartfelt words about his friend, his voice tightening up to get it all out, right before he opened the urn, lifted it up and let the wind carry Roy’s ashes out to sea. When he turned around, tears filled his eyes and his mouth quivered in heartbreak. She’d never seen this vulnerable side of Dylan and she gripped the railing tight to keep from going to him. It wasn’t her place.

Brooke went to him and cradled him in her arms the way a mother would a child, whispering soft words of sympathy in his ear. Dylan nodded his head as he listened to his baby sister. After a few minutes he wiped the tears from his eyes and the solemn expression from his face. He gave Brooke a sweet smile.

Dylan McKay was back.

It was the first time Emma had ever seen him let his guard down.

It touched her soul.

Secret dibs.

* * *

Dylan’s kitchen could swallow up her little apartment in one large gulp. Every kind of new age appliance ever conceived was set on the shiny onyx granite counter and in the textured white cabinets. It was a culinary dream kitchen and his housekeeper, Maisey, made great use of it. She’d cooked up a storm for the fifty-plus people who’d come to pay their respects to Roy Benjamin. Aside from Maisey’s home cooking, the caterers Emma had commissioned delivered trays of finger foods, specialty breads and appetizers. Everyone from grips to the president of Stage One Studios was here. Emma and Brooke, dressed in appropriate black dresses with little ornamentation, set out the food and offered drinks to the guests. They weren’t acting as Parties-To-Go planners today as much as they were Dylan’s hostesses for this sad event.

“Did you see what Callista is wearing?” Brooke muttered under her breath.

Emma set out a plate of sweet-cream-and-berry tarts on the dessert table, shooting a quick glance to the living room, where many of the guests were gathered. Callista Lee Allen, daughter to the Stage One Studio mogul, was on Dylan’s arm, hanging on his every word. She wore Versace, and the only reason Emma knew that was because she’d overheard the blonde gloating about it. It was a silver glimmer dress with detailed layering and jewels dripping off her throat and arms. “I see.”

“It’s not as if the Fashion Police are trolling. Roy deserves better. This day isn’t about her.”

Emma grinned. “Tell me how you really feel, Brooke. At least she talks to you. I’m invisible to her.” Being a friend of Dylan’s sister didn’t rank high enough on Callista’s status scale to award Emma an iota of her attention.

“Be grateful. Be very grateful.”

Emma stood back from the arrangement, giving the presentation scrutiny. They’d draped the dessert table with tablecloths in varying colors and edged each platter with flowering vines. This is what they did. And they did it well.

“It’s none of my business, but Dylan’s on-again, off-again relationship with her isn’t good for him,” Brooke said.

Emma shot them another glance. Callista’s eyes flashed on Dylan’s bandage, one hand possessively on his arm as she reached up with the other to touch the injury. Emma watched the scene play out. Dylan was deep in conversation with Callista’s father and didn’t seem to notice her unabashed attention.

Sucking oxygen in, Emma glanced away and tamped down pangs of jealousy swimming through her body. She’d be ten times a fool to think she’d ever have a chance with Dylan. He was her friend. Period. “He’s a big boy, Brooke.”

“I never thought I’d say this, but thank God my brother doesn’t commit. She’s all wrong in so many ways.” Brooke lifted her hands in a stopping motion that was her signature move. “But like I said, none of my beeswax.”

Emma smiled at her friend and put the finishing touches on the dessert table. Maisey had made coffee and there was hot water and a sampler box of teas available.

Dylan approached, gorgeous in a tailored dark suit and tie. He’d changed his clothes from the jeans and black silk shirt he’d worn this morning on the yacht. “Do you two have a minute?” he asked quietly. His brows were gathered in question. Brooke and Emma nodded and he guided them to the far side of the kitchen, out of earshot of anyone. It was all so curious.

“You girls have done wonderful today. Thank you,” he began and then shook his head. “I’m figuring you’d give it to me straight. Callista and I...are we a thing again?”

Emma held her breath. She wouldn’t comment on her thoughts about the bottle blonde. Dylan didn’t exactly confide in her about his love life, but his earnest question made her stomach ripple in guilt. She had a truth to tell him, too, and maybe it would help spark his memory, but it could also make things weird between them, which was the last thing she wanted.

Brooke seemed eager to answer, but shook her head as if formulating her thoughts. “You don’t remember?”

“No. But she’s acting like we’re ready for the altar. From what I remember, that wasn’t the case. Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re certainly not wrong,” Brooke shot back. “Not even close. Before...before your accident, you told me you were going to break it off with her for good.”

“I did? I don’t remember.” Poor Dylan was struggling. His gaze lifted to the wide windows that opened out onto the sea, as if he were searching for answers there. He seemed lost right now, not his usual self-confident, always-one-step-ahead-of-everyone, charming self.

“If she says it’s more, Dylan, I’d be careful,” Brooke offered. “She’s banking on your amnesia to worm her way back into your...”

Dylan turned to his sister, his brows lifting and a crooked smile emerging. “My what?”

“Your good graces,” Emma finished for her.

Dylan slid her a knowing look. “Always the diplomat, Em. But somehow, I don’t think that’s what Brooke was going to say.” He began nodding. “Okay, I get the picture.” He glanced at Callista, who was now surrounded by a few other actors in the film. She was deep in conversation yet constantly casting him furtive glances at every opportunity, sizing him up and staking her claim.

Brooke was right—Callista was all wrong for Dylan. How difficult it must be for him not to remember some things, not to have a grasp on his feelings. “You’re the only ones I can trust,” he said. He rubbed his brow, just under his bandage. “I can’t tell you how bizarre this feels. I see some things clearly. Other things are fuzzy at best. And then there’s a whole chunk that I don’t remember.”

Emma plunked three ice cubes into a glass and poured him a root beer, his favorite from childhood. “Here, drink up.”

“Thanks,” he said, “though I could use something stronger.”

“The doctor says not yet. You’re still on pain meds.” Brooke’s internal mother came out. It really was sweet seeing how close the two had become since the move from Ohio to Los Angeles years ago.

“One drink won’t kill me.”

“Let’s not find out, okay? I was worried enough when you were sent to the hospital. And Mom just went home two days ago. If I have to call her again to tell her you’re back in Saint Joseph’s, she’ll have a heart attack.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “You see how good she is, Emma? She knows exactly how to lay on the guilt.”

A chuckle rumbled from Emma’s throat. “I know all about Brooke’s tactics. I work with her.”

“Hey!” Brooke said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Like I said, Emma’s a diplomat. Thanks for the drink.” He lifted his glass in mock toast and then pivoted around and walked away.

“He’ll be okay,” Brooke said, watching him head back to his guests. “We just have to do whatever it takes to help him along.”

Dread formed a tight knot in Emma’s stomach. She hated keeping secrets from Brooke. They usually shared everything. But how exactly could she come out and say, I begged your brother to sleep with me the night of the blackout and all I remember is his body on mine, heated breaths and sexy words whispered in my ear. She didn’t remember how she got in bed or when he left her that night. She couldn’t recall how they’d ended things. Were there parting words recognizing the big mistake? Or had he promised to call her? He had no knowledge of what they’d done, but geesh, she didn’t recall much of that night, either.

“Oh, brother,” she mumbled.

“What?” Brooke asked.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

* * *

“Brooke, you did a wonderful job today,” Callista said, leaning her arms over the granite island, spilling her cleavage and smiling her billion-dollar smile. The sun was setting and all but one guest had left the memorial service. “You helped make the day easier for your brother.”

“It wasn’t just me, Callie,” Brooke said. “Emma did her fair share of the work and we’d both do anything to help Dylan get through this day.”

Callista’s gaze darted Emma’s way as if she’d just noticed her standing there. Hello, I’m not invisible. “Of course, you, too, Emma.” She spoke to her as if she were a child. What was it with rich powerful women that made them feel superior, just by right of wealth? Emma could probably run circles around her SAT scores. “You did a marvelous job.”

“Dylan’s a special guy and I’m happy to help.”

Callista gave her a cursory nod, eyeing her for just a second as if measuring the competition, and then turned away, writing her off.

“Brooke, do you know where Dylan is? I want to say goodbye to him and tell him his eulogy was touching.”

“Yeah, I do. He said to say goodbye to you for him. The day tired him out. He went to sleep.”

“He’s in bed already?” Callista straightened and her gaze moved toward the hallway staircase. She knew exactly where Dylan’s bedroom was. “Maybe I should go up and wish him good-night.”

“He, uh, needs uninterrupted rest. Doctor’s orders.” Brooke’s accomplished smile brought Emma a stream of silent chuckles. Leave it to Brooke. She was in defense mode now.

“Yes, of course, you’re right.” She nibbled on her lip, shooting another longing glance at the staircase. Then her expression changed. “He does need to rest up so he can be back on set as soon as possible.”

The SEAL movie had been shut down for a month already and it was costing the studio big bucks, so Dylan’s return to the set was essential. Even Callista recognized that fact. “Tell him I’ll call him.”

“Will do, Callie. I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Callista said.

“I don’t mind.”

After the two left, Emma couldn’t contain her laughter. She knew for certain Callista Lee Allen hated to be called Callie, yet she let Brooke get away with it because she was Dylan’s sister.

What a day it had been. Selfishly, Emma was glad it was over. She didn’t like walking around with a cloud of guilt over her head. She hoped “out of sight, out of mind” would work on her. As soon as she left Dylan’s house, maybe her head would clear and she’d be free of this grating bug gnawing at her to tell Dylan what happened between them.

Finished with her duties, the house clean and back to normal, thanks to Maisey and her efforts, Emma took a seat on one of the many white leather sofas in the living room. A pastel pop of color fading on the horizon grabbed her attention as she looked out the window. The sunset was beautiful on Moonlight Beach. She leaned back, closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.

“Mission accomplished,” Brooke said, clapping her hands. “She’s gone.”

Emma snapped to attention as Brooke sat down beside her. “You’re a regular Mama Bear. Who knew?”

“Normally, Dylan can take care of himself, but right now, he needs a little help. What else are meddling little sisters for anyway?”

“To keep conniving women away from him?”

“I try my best.” Brooke propped her feet on a cocktail table and sighed. “I’m getting excited about the celebrity golf tournament coming up. This is one of the biggest events we’ve ever booked. And we got it all on our own. No intervention from Dylan. They don’t even know he’s my brother. Dylan doesn’t play golf.”

“I don’t?” Dylan walked into the room looking adorably rumpled. It was the five-o’clock shadow, the mussed-to-perfection hair and those deep blue bedroom eyes that did Emma in. He wore a pair of black sweats and a white T-shirt.

“No, you don’t,” Brooke said, eyeing him carefully.

He grinned. “Just joking. I know I don’t play golf. At least I have memories of tanking every shot. Never did get the hang of it.”

“Brat. What are you doing up?”

On a long sigh, he ran a hand down his face. “I can’t sleep. I’m going for a walk. I’ll see you guys later. Thanks again for everything.”

Brooke’s mouth opened, but he was out the back door before she could stop him. “Darn it. He’s still having dizzy spells. Will you go with him, Emma? Tell him you’re in the mood for a walk, too. He already thinks I baby him enough.”

Emma balked. She was three minutes away from escaping to go home. “I, uh...”

“Please?” Brooke begged. “If you’re with him, he won’t get it into his head to start jogging. I know he misses it. He’s been complaining about not doing his daily runs. It’s almost dark on the beach. He could collapse and no one would know.”

It was true. The doctor said he shouldn’t overdo any physical activity. How could she deny Brooke the peace of mind? She’d been worried sick about her brother lately. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“That’s why I love you.” Brooke sounded relieved.

Emma bent to remove her heels and rose from the sofa. “You better,” she said. “I don’t chase handsome A-list movie stars for just anyone.” With that, she walked out the back entrance of Dylan’s mansion, climbed down the stairs, searched for signs of him and took off at a jog when she’d seen how far he’d already traveled.

“Dylan,” she called, her toes squishing into wet sand as she trudged rapidly after him. “Wait up.”

He turned around and slowed his pace.

“Would you like company?” Her breathing ragged, she fibbed, “I feel like a walk, too.”

“Let me guess. Brooke sent you.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I just felt like taking a walk?”

His mouth lifted in a dubious smile. “And maybe the moon is green.”

“Everyone knows the moon is made of cheese, therefore it’s yellow.”

He shook his head, seeming to relinquish his skepticism. “Okay, let’s walk. Actually, I would like your company.”

He took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers.

How...unexpected. Her breath froze in her chest.

“It was a nice memorial, wasn’t it?” he asked as he resumed walking.

There was a slight tug on her hand that woke her from her stupor and she fell in step with him. “It was heartwarming. You honored Roy with a wonderful tribute to his life.”

“I’m the only family he had, aside from his crew. He was a great guy and it’s just a ridiculous shame. Roy was obsessed with his stunts. He spent his whole life perfecting them. He was the most cautious man I’ve ever known. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“They’re saying it was a freakish accident.”

Dylan took a sharp breath. “That’s what they say when they don’t know what happened. It’s the standard answer.”

They walked on in silence for a while, the heat from where he held her hand warming her entire body. It was actually a perfect evening for a stroll on the beach. Breezes blew at the twist of hair at the back of her head. She reached up and pulled it out of its band, freeing the long waves that touched the middle of her back.

“So tell me what’s going on in your life, Emma.”

Her brows gathered at the oddity of the request. Dylan knew just about everything about her. She was Brooke’s friend and business partner. She lived in a tiny apartment twenty minutes away from Moonlight Beach. She loved her work and didn’t go out much.

Oh, no! Did he remember something? Blood drained from her face as her mind worked overtime for signs that he’d remembered that blackout night. But as she dared to gaze at his profile, his eyes didn’t probe her but stayed straight ahead, his neutral expression unchanged. She let out a relieved sigh. Maybe he needed to break the silence. Maybe he was just making conversation. And maybe her guilty conscience was wringing her dry.

“The same old, same old,” she answered. “Work, work, work.”

“Still hoping to make your first million before thirty?”

Her laugh came out a little too high-pitched. Brooke must’ve told him of her long-term goal. How embarrassing. Ever since she was a child, money had been scarce. Her foster parents didn’t have much and were stingy in sharing. She didn’t know that until she’d grown into a teen, of course, and witnessed how they’d splurge what they did have on each other. Never her. She grew up mostly wearing thrift store clothes. From the age of thirteen, Emma knew she’d have to find her own way in the world. She’d worked her ass off, achieving a full scholarship to college, and vowed she’d become financially independent one day. The promise she made herself was that by the age of thirty, she would make her first million. She had several years to go, but her hopes were high of expanding Parties-To-Go into a million-dollar franchise.

“Your sister, my best friend, needs to button her mouth.”

“Don’t blame Brooke,” he said softly. “I think it’s commendable to have goals.”

“Lofty goals.”

“Attainable goals and you work hard, Emma.”

“Without your investment, we wouldn’t even have a business.”

“I just helped you get started, and in the two years since you’ve been working at it, you’ve come a long way.”

“We owe you, Dylan. You’ve been amazing. We want to make you proud.”

Dylan stopped, his Nikes digging into the sand, and when she turned to him, a genuine smile graced his handsome face. Gone was the sadness from before. A glint of appreciation twinkled in his eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. And I am proud. You’re a hard worker, and you’re paying me back faster than I expected or wanted. But, Em, I have to tell you, as much as you believe Brooke has helped you through the growing-up years, you’ve helped her, too. She came to California hoping to become an actress. God, it’s a tough business. I’ve been lucky...more fortunate than I could’ve hoped, but it’s not the same for Brooke. She’s much happier now, being in business with her best friend and earning a legitimate living doing what she loves. I owe that to you. So thank you for being...you.”

Dylan leaned in, his face coming within inches of hers. Her heart rate escalated as she stared at his mouth. She understood now why his female fans swooned. He was breathtaking and yummy. There was no other way to describe it. “You’re the amazing one, Emma,” he whispered.

Her mind going fuzzy, she whispered back, “I am?”

As he inched closer, taking her into his arms, angling for her cheek, her entire body relaxed. Of course, he’d give her a sisterly kiss on the cheek. She closed her eyes.

His warm lips came down softly.

On her mouth.

Oh, she’d died and gone to heaven. His lips were warm and giving and soothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brazenly returned the kiss. Wow. It was all so new. And exciting. Dylan McKay was kissing her on Moonlight Beach at sunset and she was fully in the moment this time. There were no gaps of memory from a fuzzy brain. There wasn’t anything but right now, this speck of time, and she relished the taste of him, the amazing texture of his firm lips caressing hers, the strength and power of his body close to hers.

But something still seemed slightly off with his kiss. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Was it just that she was fully aware, fully attuned to him right now?

Dylan broke off the kiss first, and instead of backing away, he grasped Emma to his chest tightly like a little boy needing the comfort of his favorite stuffed toy. Elmo or Teddy or Winnie the Pooh.

She stood in his embrace for long moments. He sighed and continued to hold her. Then his mouth touched her right earlobe and he whispered, “Thank you. I needed your company tonight, Emma.”

What could she say? Was she foolish enough to think he remembered their night of passion and wanted more? No, that wasn’t it. Dylan needed comforting. Maybe what she considered to be a heart-melting kiss, only counted as a friendly measure of comfort for a man whose life was full of adoration. At least, she could give him that.

Her secret was safe.

“You’re welcome, Dylan.”

Glad to be of service.


Two (#ulink_2fa103be-7afb-562c-b0c1-ef3181ef58f5)

Dylan wasn’t himself. That had to explain why he’d kissed Emma as though he meant it. Actually, he had meant it in that instant. She was familiar to him. He knew the score with her, his sister Brooke’s best friend. Someone he could trust. Someone he could rely on. The meds he was taking lessened his headaches and he was recovering, feeling better every day. But having a chunk of his memory gone affected his decision making and confidence, made him vulnerable and uncertain.

But one thing he was certain about: kissing Emma had made him feel better. It was the best kiss he’d had in a long time. It packed a wallop. He knew that without question. Those big green eyes that sparkled like emeralds wouldn’t steer him wrong. He’d needed the connection to feel whole again. To feel like himself.

Had he gotten all that from one mildly passionate kiss? Yeah. Because it was with Emma and he knew his limitations with her. She was untouchable and sweet with a side of sassy. So he’d kissed her and let the sugar in her fill him up and take away the pain in his heart.

“You’re quiet,” he said to her as they walked back toward his house. “Was the kiss out of line?”

“No. Not at all. You needed someone.”

He covered her hand with his again and squeezed gently. “Not just anyone, Emma. I needed someone I could trust. You. Sorry if I came on too strong.”

“You...didn’t.”

But she didn’t sound so sure.

“It was just a kiss, Dylan. It’s not as if you haven’t kissed me before.”

“Birthday kisses don’t count.”

She was quiet for a second. “I didn’t have a lot of affection when I was younger. Those birthday kisses meant a lot to me.”

He gave her another quick squeeze of the hand. “I know. Hey, remember the face-plant kiss?”

“Oh, God. Don’t bring that up, Dylan. I’m still mortified. Your parents went to a lot of trouble to make that cake for me.”

He chuckled at the image popping into his head. “Damn, that was funny.”

“It was your fault!”

Dylan’s smirk stayed plastered on his face. He couldn’t wipe it clean. At least his long-term memory was intact. “How was it my fault?”

“Rusty was your dog, wasn’t he? He tangled under my feet and in that moment I figured it was better to fall into the cake than snuff out your dog. I would’ve crushed that little Chihuahua if my full weight landed on him.”

“What were you, twelve at the time?”

“Yes! It said so on the birthday cake I demolished.”

Dylan snorted a laugh. “At least you got to taste it. It was all over your face. The rest of us just got to watch. But it was worth it.”

“You should’ve given me my birthday kiss before your mom kindly wiped my face clean. Then maybe you wouldn’t have felt so deprived. The cake was good, you know. Chocolate marble.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Em. I wasn’t deprived.”

She stopped abruptly, taking a stand in the sand, pulling her hand free of his and folding her arms across her middle. “What’s that supposed to mean? You enjoyed seeing me fall?”

The phony pout on her face brought him a lightness that he hadn’t felt in more than a week, since before the accident.

“Oh, come on, Miss Drama Queen. It was many moons ago.” And yes, he knew stuntmen, Roy included, who couldn’t have done a better pratfall. It had been hilarious.

“Me? Drama queen? I don’t think so. I’m standing here, looking at a true-life drama king. Mr. Winner of two Academy Awards and God only knows how many Golden Globes.”

“Three.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes. “Three,” she repeated.

He walked back to where she’d made her stand and grabbed up her hand again, tugging her along. He liked Emma Rae Bloom. She’d had a tough life, raised by neglectful foster parents. Just by the grace of all good things, she’d become his sister’s best friend, and thus, a member of the McKay clan.

They were almost back to his house. It was sundown, a time when the beach was quiet but for the waves washing upon the shore. Moonlight illuminated the water and reflected off the sand where he stopped to face Emma. “Well, you’ve succeeded where many have failed this week, Em. You’ve put a smile on my face.”

Her pert little chin lifted to him, and he balked at the urge to take her into his arms again. To kiss that mouth and feel the lushness of her long hair against his palms. She was petite in size and stature, especially without shoes on, and so different than the tall lean models and actresses he’d dated.

He wouldn’t kiss her again. But it surprised him how badly he wanted to.

He pursed his lips and went with his gut. “Hey, you know, I’ve got this charity gig coming up. If the doctors say I’m good to go, I’d love for you to join me for the meet and greet at Children’s West Hospital.”

Emma turned away from him now, to gaze out to sea. “You want me to go with you?”

“Yep.”

“Don’t you have agents and personal assistants to do that sort of thing?”

“Em?”

“What?”

Tucking his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. “It’s okay if you don’t want to go.”

She whipped her head around, her eyes a spark of brightness against the dim skies. “Why do you want me to go?”

“The truth? I’m a little mixed-up right now. Having a friend come along will make me feel a little safer. I haven’t been out in public since the accident. Besides, I know the kids will love you. I was going to ask Brooke, too.”

“Oh.” She ducked her head, looking sheepish. “These kids, are they all ill?”

“Mostly, yes. But many are in recovery, thank goodness. I’m slated to do a promo spot in a few days with some of the kids to raise funds and awareness about the good the hospital does. I’ve donated a little to the new wing of the hospital and I guess that’s why they’ve asked me.”

“You donated 1.3 million dollars to the new wing, Dylan. I read that online. It’s going to be amazing. The new wing will have a screening room with interactive games for the kids.”

He smiled. “So what do you say?”

“Yes, of course I’ll go.”

“Thanks, Em. Now, let’s get back inside before Brooke sends out a search party for us.”

Emma’s laughter filled his ears and made him smile again.

* * *

Late Wednesday afternoon, Emma hung up the phone with Mrs. Alma Montalvo, rested her arms on her office desk and hung her head. The client was delirious about details and had sapped Emma’s energy for two long hours. Yes, they’d found a local band to play fifties tunes. Yes, they’d rented a ’57 Chevy and it would be parked strategically at the top of their multitiered lawn for added effect. Yes, they’d have a photo booth decked out with leather jackets, poodle skirts and car club insignia for the guests to wear as they had their photos snapped. Yes, yes, yes.

Thank goodness the party was this Saturday night. After it was over, she and Brooke could take their big fat check from Mrs. Montalvo and say, Hasta la vista, baby. Parties-To-Go has come and gone.

The chime above the door rang out Leslie Gore’s classic song “It’s My Party” and Emma glanced up.

“Hey, I thought you were going home early today,” Brooke said, entering their Santa Monica office.

“I thought I was, too, but Mrs. Montalvo had other ideas.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “We’ll impress the hell out of her, Emma. The party is going to be top-notch.”

“It better be. I’ve put in extra hours on this one.”

Brooke grinned and set down shopping bags on the desk adjacent to Emma’s. The office furnishings were an eclectic mix, all colorful and light to convey a party atmosphere for clients. The desks were clear Plexiglas, the walls were painted bright pastels and the chairs were relics that had been upholstered in floral materials. Photos of their parties and events adorned the walls from hoedowns on local ranch properties to rich, elaborate weddings with a few celebrity endorsements mixed in, thanks to Dylan.

They had two part-time employees who came in after school and on weekends to answer phones, do online research and work the parties whenever needed.

“Take a look at this,” Brooke said, pulling a mocha cocktail dress from a box in one of the bags. “Isn’t it...perfect? I got it at the little shop on Broadway.”

“Wow, it’s gorgeous. And not black. I bet it’s for the San Diego golf dinner, right?”

Brooke was shaking her head. “Nope, not at all. You’ll never guess.”

Emma’s thoughts ran through a list of upcoming events and couldn’t come up with anything. “Don’t make me, then. Tell me!”

Brooke put the dress up to her chin, hugged it to her waist and twirled around, just like when they used to play dress-up and pretend to be princesses ready to meet their special prince.

“I have a date.” Brooke sang out the words and stomped her feet.

It shouldn’t be that monumental, but Brooke seldom dated. After graduating from college, they’d both been focused on the business. And Brooke was picky when it came to men. So this was a big deal, judging by the megawatt, light-up-Sunset-Boulevard smile on her face. “The best part is, he doesn’t know who I am.”

Or rather, who her brother was. Most people, men and women alike, showed interest in Brooke once they found out that Dylan was her big brother. It sucked big-time and made Brooke wary of any friendliness coming her way. She was never sure if there was an ulterior motive.

“I mean, of course he knows my name is Brooke. We met at Adele’s Café. We were both waiting for our take-out lunch orders and it took forever. But once we got to talking, neither of us minded the long wait.”

“When was this?”

“Yesterday.”

“And you didn’t tell me!” Wasn’t that like breaking the BFF rule?

“I didn’t know if he’d call.” She hugged the dress one last time, before carefully stowing it back in the box. “But he did this morning and asked me out for the following weekend. And get this, he wanted to see me sooner but I told him about the event this weekend and he seemed really disappointed. We don’t have anything next weekend. Tell me we don’t. The golf tournament is in three weeks, right?”

Emma punched it up on her computer and glanced at their calendar. “Right, but you’re so excited, even if we had an event, I’d relieve you of your duties. I’ve never seen you so gaga. What’s his name?”

“Royce Brisbane. He’s in financial planning.”

Emma dug her teeth into her bottom lip to keep from chuckling. “You, with a suit?”

“Yes, but he looks dreamy in it.”

“Wow, Brooke. You really like this guy. You shopped.” Brooke was not a shopper. She had one color in her wardrobe arsenal, basic black, and she wore it like armor every day.

“I think I do like him. A lot. It was so easy talking to him. We have a lot in common.”

“Tell me more.”

After getting the full details on Royce Brisbane, Emma’s thoughts went to Brooke’s upcoming date on the drive home. Emma had to admit, the guy sounded good on paper. If he made Brooke happy, then she was all for it. She hadn’t seen Brooke smile so much in months. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing. A very bad thing. The more you care about someone, the more they could potentially hurt you. But Emma wouldn’t poke a hole in Brooke’s happy balloon; her friend deserved to have a good time.

Emma parked in her apartment structure and climbed out of her car. Her legs were two strands of thin spaghetti tonight. It was an effort to walk across the courtyard to her front door. She shoved the sticky door open with her body and glimpsed her comfy sofa with cushy pillows and a quilt she could curl up in. She dropped her purse unceremoniously onto the coffee table, sank down onto the sofa and let out a relieved sigh.

A hundred details ran through her head. The upcoming golf event was first and foremost in her mind. It wasn’t for a few weeks yet, but it was a big opportunity for the business. She did yet another mental check, making sure all bases were covered, before she could really relax. Somewhat confident she hadn’t forgotten anything, she lay her head down and stretched her legs out, allowing the cushions to envelop her weary body.

If only she could go mindless for a while. Sometimes she envied people who could close everything off and go blank. Just...be. She tended to overthink everything, which made her excellent at her job, but a sad prospect for a carefree lifestyle.

The night of the memorial for Roy Benjamin played in her head and she immediately zoomed in on Dylan McKay. The way he had held her on the beach, the way she had felt when his hand covered hers possessively, the way his mouth had moved over hers and claimed her in a kiss. It wasn’t a birthday kiss. It wasn’t a friend’s kiss, either, though Dylan seemed to think so. It was much more for her. And the memory floated through her body and filled in all the lonely gaps.

Secret dibs.

She smiled. It was never going to happen, yet part of her fantasy had come true. Dylan had made glorious love to her. Okay, so she wasn’t sure about the glorious part. She’d been too out of it to know if he was a good lover or not. But in her fantasy world, Dylan was the best. Appeal magazine had said so, too. He’d been voted Most Sexy Single this year. And there had been endorsements by his former girlfriends. So it had to be true.

Her eyes grew heavy. It was a battle to keep them open with the cushions supporting her fatigued body and the quilt covering her. All tucked in, she gave up the fight and surrendered to slumber.

Ruff, ruff...ruff, ruff.

Emma bolted upright, her eyes snapping to attention. She found herself on the sofa, half covered with her favorite quilt. How long had she been out? Squinting, she glanced at the wall clock. It was eight thirty. Wow, she’d been asleep for ninety minutes. She’d never taken a nighttime nap before.

Ruff, ruff...ruff, ruff.

Her phone rang again. She grappled for it inside her purse and put it to her ear. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

It was Dylan. There was no mistaking that deep baritone voice that had half the female movie-viewing population panting to hear more. “Oh, hi.”

She hinged her body up, planted her feet on the ground and shook her head to clear away the grogginess.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Did she sound as if she’d been sleeping? She tried her best to pretend she was wide-awake. “Not at all. I’m up.”

“Busy?”

“No. Just sitting here...going over a few details in my head.” A yawn crept out and she cupped her hand over her mouth to hide the sound. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing much. I spoke with Darren on the phone and my manager stopped by to check on me tonight. To be honest, I’m going a little stir-crazy.”

“You’re used to being busy.”

“I can’t wait to get back to work. But then, I’m dreading it at the same time.”

“I get it. It’s because of Roy. It’ll be strange for you to go about your daily routine knowing that he’s gone and you’re going on with your life.”

“How come you’re so smart, Em?”

“I got lucky in the brains department I guess.” She chewed on her lip. She still wasn’t comfortable speaking to Dylan with this big black cloud hanging over her head. It made her feel guilty and disingenuous. And why was he suddenly her best friend? Did that knock to his head change his perspective? They’d always been cordial, but since his rise to celebrity status, she hadn’t exactly been on his radar. All of a sudden, he was behaving as if they were best buds.

He was disoriented. Fuzzy in the brain. And in need of someone he could trust. But as soon as he was comfortable in his own skin again, things would change. She had no doubt. Dylan was a busy, busy man, sought after by the masses and the media, with who knew how many opportunities for work.

She scrunched up her face. Don’t get used to his attention, Emma.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” he said. “I’m calling to confirm our date.”

Date? A bad choice of words. “You mean the hospital thing?”

“Yes, it’s this Friday morning. How about I swing by your place around nine to pick you up?”

“That’s fine. I’m still not sure of my part in all this, but I’m happy to help out.”

“You are helping out. You’re helping me.”

The way he said it, with such deep sincerity, tugged her heart in ten different ways. And it dawned on her that it wasn’t just returning to work he was partially dreading, but going out in public for the first time with everyone expecting to see Dylan McKay back in true form. That was clearly worrying him. He didn’t know if he was ready for that. He needed the support of his sister and friend.

“And you’re going to make a difference in a lot of children’s lives.”

“I hope to. See you around nine, Em. Sleep tight.”

“You, too.”

Emma ended the call and sat there for a few minutes taking it all in again. She had to stop dwelling on Dylan McKay. Food usually kept her mind occupied. But oddly, she wasn’t hungry. In fact, the thought of eating right now turned her stomach, so she nixed that plan and picked up the TV remote. She hit the on button and her small flat-screen lit up the dark room. The channel, tuned to the local network, was airing a movie. She settled back, propping up her feet, and stared ahead.

Dylan McKay’s handsome face popped up, filling most of the screen, his bone-melting blue eyes gazing into the pretty face of Hollywood’s latest darling, Sophie Adams. The cowboy and his girl were about to ride into the sunset. The camera zoomed in for the movie-ending kiss, and just like that, something cold and painful snared Emma’s heart as Dylan’s mouth locked onto Sophie’s.

Hitting the off button did little to calm her. Why couldn’t she get away from Dylan?

Falling for the unattainable was romantic suicide. She wasn’t that stupid.

She’d just have to get over her secret dibs.

End of story.

* * *

She was ready at precisely nine o’clock. When the doorbell rang, she took a quick glance in the mirror, checking her upswept hairstyle, snowy-white pants and the sherbet-pink blazer she wore over a dotted swiss top. A tiny locket nestled at the base of her throat; that, silver stud earrings and a fashionable chunky watch were all the jewelry she’d opted for. She was going for a professional look without appearing unapproachable to the children. A little thrill ran through her body. Seeing Dylan aside, she was looking forward to meeting the kids, knowing firsthand how hard it was for a youngster to be outside the mainstream. She’d been one of those kids. Lucky for her, she had been healthy, but she’d been different, unloved and unwanted, and she’d never really felt as if she belonged.

Today was all about the kids.

She opened the door and was immediately yanked out of her noble thoughts as she took one look at Dylan standing on her doorstep. She’d expected his driver. But there Dylan was, in the flesh, his bandage gone now, the scar on the side of his head that would eventually heal only making him appear more manly, more dangerous, more gorgeous. Dressed in new jeans and a tan jacket over a white shirt, he smiled at her. “Morning. You look great.”

She didn’t feel great. She had woken up pale as a ghost and feeling boneless from tossing and turning all night. But his compliments could get to her, if she put stock in them. He was smooth. He was the consummate lady-killer. He knew which buttons to push to make females fall at his feet. And with her, she was sure, he wasn’t even trying.

“Thank you. Is Brooke with you?”

He shook his head. “Brooke cracked a tooth this morning. She called me in a panic and said she had to get it fixed right away. I guess it’s because of your event tomorrow, but she bailed. She’s got a hot date with the dentist in twenty minutes.”

Or rather a hot date with Royce next week and she couldn’t go toothless. “Oh. Poor Brooke.”

“She didn’t call you?”

Emma lifted her phone out of her purse and glanced at the screen. “Oh, yeah, she did,” she said. “Looks like a voice mail this morning. I was probably in the shower.”

Dylan’s eyes flickered and roamed over her body. Gosh, he was Flirt Central without even knowing it.

“I’m ready. Or would you like to come in?” Oh, boy, had she really invited him in? The last time he’d been here, they’d...

He glanced behind her and scanned her apartment as if seeing it for the first time. It was clear he didn’t remember coming here.

She put those thoughts out of her mind and wondered what he would think of her two-bedroom apartment tucked into an older residential area of Santa Monica. There were no views of the ocean, no trendy, glamorous furnishings or updated kitchen. But it was all hers. And she loved having...stuff of her own.

“Maybe some other time,” he said politely. “We should probably hit the road.”

After she locked up her apartment, Dylan took her arm and guided her through the courtyard to the limousine parked by the sidewalk. “Here you go,” he said as the driver opened the door. She slid in and Dylan followed. “I haven’t gotten clearance to drive yet,” he explained as he settled into the seat across from her by the window.

But it wasn’t as if being carted around in a limo was foreign to him.

“Thanks again for coming with me today.”

Again, she was struck by his sincerity. “You’re welcome. Actually, I’m looking forward to it.”

He stared at her, waiting for more.

She shrugged. “It’s just that my own childhood wasn’t ideal. If I can do something for these kids, even just as a bystander, I’m all for it. But how are you doing? This is your first venture out in public since the...”

“Accident?” His lips tightened and he sighed. “Let’s just say, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Even though you’ll have your team waiting for you there?”

“My agent and PA are great, don’t get me wrong. But they see me one way. I don’t think they get how hard this has been for me. Losing those days of my life, and losing Roy, has put me at a disadvantage I’m not used to. There are missing pages in my life.”

And she could fill in some of those blanks if she had the courage.

He reached for her hand and laid their entwined fingers on the middle seat between them. “Brooke had good reason to jump ship today. I’m just glad you didn’t bail.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know. That’s why I asked you to join me. I can count on you.”

They reached Children’s West Hospital, a beautiful building with white marble walls and modern lines. The limo slowed to a stop right in the circular drive that led to the entrance.

“Ready for the show?”

Several news crews were waiting like vultures, snapping pictures even before the driver got out of the limo. Dylan made headlines everywhere he went, and his first time out in public since the accident was big news. She recognized Darren, his agent, and Rochelle, his prim assistant, also waiting along the lineup. “Ready.” Emma gave off much more confidence than she was feeling.

Dylan waited two beats, sighed as if grasping for strength and then nodded to his driver, who had one hand on the door handle. The door opened and photos were snapped immediately. Dylan got out, waved to the crowd and then reached inside to take her hand. She exited the limo and was dragged into the fray by Dylan, who seemed to tighten his hold on her. A hospital official came forward to greet them and introductions were made as security guards ensured that none of the news media followed them into the hospital lobby. His agent and PA also followed behind, eyeing everyone. Still, Emma saw cameras pressed up against the windows, the paparazzi snapping photos of Dylan and his entourage as they moved along the corridors with Richard Jacoby, the hospital administrator, and a few other ranking hospital officials.

Mr. Jacoby stopped at a double-wide door and turned to their small group. “The children are excited to meet you, Dylan. We’ve gathered our recovering patients here, in the doctor’s lounge. And later, we’ll go up to see the other children who are still in treatment.”

Emma assumed that he was talking about the kids who couldn’t make it out of bed. Her heart lurched and she braced herself for what was to come.

“Afterward, we’ll shoot your promo spot with Beth and Pauly.”

“Sounds good to me,” Dylan said.

“We had a little movie premiere of His Rookie Year last night for everyone to get acquainted with who you are. Most of them already knew of you. Eddie Renquist was quite a character.”

The rated-G movie hadn’t won Dylan any awards, but he’d garnered a whole new audience of youngsters with that role. It was on Emma’s Top Ten Favorite list.

“After you,” Mr. Jacoby said, and they entered a large room filled with kids of all ages, sitting on grown-up chairs, their eyes as big as the smiles on their faces. They began waving at Dylan. With Emma at his side, he made his way over and spoke to each child. The younger boys called him Eddie and asked him all about baseball, as if he really was a star athlete like his character in the film. Dylan was quite knowledgeable actually and always reminded them he was only acting out a role. Some of them got it, others weren’t quite sure. The girls were all over the map, the teens telling him he was hot and they loved him, while the younger ones wanted to shake his hand or give him a hug.

Dylan wasn’t stingy with his hugs. He gave them freely and laughed with the kids, shook hands and recited lines from his movies when asked. Some of the kids with shaved heads had peach fuzz growing. They were the lucky ones, the ones who would eventually go home to live normal lives. Some wore back braces or leg casts; others were in wheelchairs. But all in all, every one of them reacted positively to Dylan. He was good with them and managed to bring Emma into the conversation often.

“This is my friend Emma. She plans parties and knows a lot about everything,” he said.

“Have you ever planned a Cinderella party?” one of the younger girls asked.

“Well, of course. Cinderella and Belle and Ariel are friends of mine,” she said.

A cluster of little girls surrounded her and asked her dozens of questions.

Dylan caught her eye and nodded as he continued to make his way around the room. Once Dylan had greeted every single child, he came to stand at the front of the room and asked if they would like to sing a few songs. “Emma has a great voice and knows lots of songs.”

It wasn’t exactly out of her wheelhouse to entertain children, but this had come out of the blue. “Oh, of course. We can do that.” She jumped right in.

She led them in Taylor Swift and Katy Perry songs as well as a song from Frozen, for the little ones, and then Mr. Jacoby signaled to her that their time was up. Dylan walked over to his personal assistant and she handed him a packet of cards.

“Thanks for giving me a chance to meet you all,” he said to the kids. “I’m going to come around the room again one more time and hand out movie passes for you and your families.”

And afterward, they were whisked away, riding up in the elevator to the third floor where the really ill children lay in beds. What really struck Emma was how happy all the children seemed to be, despite the bald heads, wires and tubes going through them, limbs in casts and machines humming. Experiencing their unqualified acceptance and genuine gladness to see them was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking. Emma sent up silent prayers for all of them, wishing that affliction wouldn’t strike ones so young. But their spirit was amazing and many adults, including her, could learn from their sense of joy and gratefulness.

Dylan treated these kids in the same way he had the others. No pity shone in his eyes; instead, there was a sense of camaraderie and friendship. He was one with them, talking movies and baseball and family with these wonderfully unaffected children.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Dylan said once they were alone in the hallway.

“They’re sweet kids.”

“They shouldn’t have to deal with this crap. They should be allowed to be kids.”

This wasn’t just a photo op for Dylan. “You’re a softy. Who knew?”

She knew. She’d seen it firsthand and she’d learned something about Dylan today. His compassion for the less fortunate was astounding.

“Shh. You don’t want to wreck my image, do you?” He grinned.

“Heavens, not me.”

His agent and PA called him away, and he excused himself. When he returned, he was frowning. “The little boy Pauly who was to do the shoot with us had a setback. He’s not healthy enough to do the promo spot right now. They’re giving me the option to do it with only Beth or to pick another child, or I can wait for Pauly. The camera crew is all here, everything’s set up, but here’s the thing. Pauly was really looking forward to this. They tell me it’s all he’s talked about all week.” Dylan ran a hand down his face. “What do you think?”

He was asking her advice? She didn’t know about the technical nature of this business or the cost involved, but she had only one answer for Dylan. “I’d wait for Pauly. It might make the difference in his recovery, if he has this to look forward to.”

Dylan smiled wide, his eyes locking to hers in relief. “That’s what I was thinking, too.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks.”

He turned away before he could take in her shocked expression. He’d kissed her again.

It had to be the surroundings, the children, the good that he’d done today to brighten lives here at Children’s West Hospital, and that’s all Emma would read into it.

When they walked out of the hospital a short time later, the press vultures were waiting, snapping pictures and shooting questions at him from behind a roped-off line. She stood in the background with Darren and Rochelle, noting how perfectly Dylan handled the situation, stopping them with a hand up. “I’ll make a brief statement. As you can see, I’m doing well and recovering. I’ll be back to work very soon, but today is not about me. It’s about the wonderful work this hospital is doing for the children. The doctors and staff here are dedicated and so willing to give of themselves. We’re hoping to shine a light on Children’s West Hospital today. Visit their website to see how you can help these brave children. Thank you.”

With that, Dylan ushered Emma into the limo and it sped off before she could get her seat belt on.

“Whoa,” he said, and for the first time today, she glimpsed beads of sweat on his brow.

“Dylan, are you okay?”

He sank down, shrugged into his seat belt and tossed his head against the headrest. “I’ve been better.”

“Dizzy spell?” She clamped her own seat belt on.

“Nope, it’s just a little bit...crazy, isn’t it? I’m not feeling myself just yet.”

“That’s understandable, Dylan. You’ve been through a lot. But you handled them like a pro.”

He turned to her, shaking his head. “Maybe I should’ve kept you out of it. Your picture might just make the front page of some of those rags.”

“I did hear several questions shouted about the redhead.” A giggle sounding more like a hiccup escaped her mouth. She’d lived in Los Angeles long enough to know how desperate the paparazzi could be. “I noticed you ignored those.”

“Think they’d believe me if I said you were a friend of the family? Not on your life. Let ’em guess.”

“Yeah, let them guess.” Bet they’d never guess she’d been the one-night stand Dylan McKay had no memory of. Now, that was a story for the tabloids.

“Thank you for coming with me today. It made a difference having you here.”

She was his surrogate sister. She didn’t mind. Not today. “You know, I’m glad I came, too, and if I helped you in the process, that’s a bonus.”

“You did.” Dylan leaned over, gave her a sweet kiss that seemed to linger on her lips, then retreated to his seat and closed his eyes. “Thanks.”

She was pretty sure surrogate sisters didn’t get kisses like that.

In fact, she didn’t remember much about his kisses at all.

And that stumped her. A man like Dylan...well, a girl shouldn’t forget something like that, drunk on mojitos and in a blackout or not.

* * *

The Montalvo party went off without a hitch, except for one boisterous guest who’d gotten smashed on martinis and fallen off the top tier of the multilevel grounds. Luckily for him, it was only a five-foot drop and he’d fallen on a shelf of border boxwoods that pinched like the dickens but broke his fall and prevented major damage. After causing a momentary ruckus, the man sobered up real fast, skulked off like a pup with his tail between his legs, and the party picked up again from there.

Emma was proud of the display they’d put on for the fifties party and their company was hired on the spot by a theatre producer in attendance to host a similar event. It had been a win-win night.

She’d worked her butt off these past few weeks. Brooke had her head in the clouds after her date with Royce and they’d seen each other three times since. Emma didn’t mind picking up the slack, except that she’d been extremely tired and with her resistance down she managed to catch Brooke’s cold. Now both of them weren’t feeling well. But while Brooke had only sniffles and sneezes, Emma had an upset stomach, as well. She couldn’t look at food for days and even now the thought of eating anything but a piece of fruit made her tummy grumble. And the big golf tournament event was in just four days.

“Emma, get your ducks in a row,” she muttered. She lay on her bed praying for strength. A commercial for a big sloppy hamburger came on the television screen and she didn’t turn her head away in time. “Oh, God.” Her stomach soured instantly and her legs tangled in the sheets as she fumbled from bed and raced to the bathroom. She landed on her knees and made it to the toilet just as her stomach contracted.

Wonderful...just wonderful. After she flushed the toilet she sat back on her knees. The little energy she’d had this morning had seeped out of her. But the flu bug would not get her down. She wouldn’t miss their big charity event coming up. She grasped the bathroom counter for support and lifted herself up. Her head spun for a second, until finally her eyes focused and she mustered every ounce of strength to stay upright.

“Okay, Emma,” she whispered. “You can do this.”

Carefully, she stepped away from the sink. The merry-go-round in her head was gone. Thank you, Flu Gods. But just a second later gripping pain attacked her stomach. “Oh.” She held her belly and flew toward the toilet again. Sinking down onto the floor, she emptied everything into the porcelain bowl, until there was nothing left.

An hour later, after managing to climb her way back into bed, her body shaking, her bones weak, she clutched her cell and pushed Brooke’s number. “Hi,” she whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

Brooke knew her so well.

“I’m down, Brooke. Can’t make it out of bed right now. The flu.”

“Oh, Em. I’m so sorry. I got you sick and now you’re getting the brunt of it. You sound terrible.”

“My stomach’s finally eased off, but it wasn’t pretty an hour ago. I’m so...tired. I’m gonna try to make it into the office later today.”

“No, you’re not. You need to stay in bed all day and rest. I’ve got things handled here. You know we’ve been right on schedule with this charity event. I just have a few last-minute things to take care of. You rest up and get better so you can make it on Friday.”

“Okay, I think you’re right.”

“Sleep. It’s the best thing for you.”

“Thanks, and, Brooke, no way am I missing this weekend.”

“I’ll come over later and bring you some soup.”

“Ugh, no. Just the thought of food right now turns my stomach.”

“All right. I’ll call you later.”

When the call ended, Emma turned her head into her pillow, closed her eyes and slept the entire day. She woke up bathed in a stream of dim light coming from the night-light on the opposite wall. She blinked herself awake. Outside, darkness had descended, but she was safe, protected. Since the night of the blackout, she kept night-lights on day and night in her apartment to keep from ever being alone in total darkness. She also now had an entire bedroom shelf devoted to pillar candles, scented and unscented. It didn’t matter, as long as they did the trick. She took them with her when she traveled, too, just in case, and had also started carrying a mini flashlight in her purse. Not that she couldn’t use her cell phone—someone had turned her onto a flashlight app, which came in handy—but cell phone batteries died on occasion and she couldn’t chance it.

A look at her cell phone now revealed that it was seven twenty-five. Wow, she’d slept for nine hours. Funny, but she didn’t feel rested at all. Or hungry. Just the thought of food made her queasy all over again.

Brooke called and they spoke for half an hour, going over the final details of the golf event, the dinner, dancing, silent auction and raffle. At two thousand dollars a head and with an expected one hundred fifty guests in attendance, there were lots of fine points to check on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Brooke,” Emma said, feeling optimistic as she hung up the phone. Her stomach had eased back to normal and she figured she’d been through the worst of it.

By the morning of the next day, she knew that she’d figured wrong. She emptied her stomach twice before it settled down. She managed to go into the office, but once Brooke took a look at her pasty face, she ordered her back to bed. Emma didn’t have the strength to argue.

By Thursday morning, nothing had changed. She spent the morning in the bathroom next to her new best friend. Suspicions were running rampant in her head. What if she didn’t have the flu? What if there was something else wrong with her? Something permanent? Something rest and hot soup wouldn’t cure?

Eyes wide-open now, she fought the invading rumblings in her belly, quickly dressed and dashed to the local drugstore. Once she got back home, she peed on a stick at three different intervals of the day, only to get the same result each time. Opening her laptop, she keyed it up and researched a subject she thought would be years down the road for her.

She was as sure now as she would ever be; she had all the symptoms.

She was pregnant.

And Dylan McKay was her blackout baby’s father.


Three (#ulink_903c6c46-e4c7-55d8-b173-4f24ed4ceefd)

“You’re trying to hide a smile, Brooke. You don’t fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you, Emma. I think it’s kinda cool that you and my brother...”

“No, it wasn’t like that, really.” Oh, boy.

Having Brooke stop everything at the office and come over right away might have been a mistake. But this was big and she couldn’t hide her pregnancy from her best friend. Especially not when Brooke had a stake in this, too; she was Dylan’s sister after all. Emma needed her right now. She had no one else to turn to and time was running out. She had morning sickness, big-time. Immediate decisions had to be made and she’d have to deal with Dylan at some point.

“We’re not romantically involved,” she said to Brooke.

Her friend sat on the sofa next to her, her mouth twitching, the smile she couldn’t conceal spreading wider across her face. This was no laughing matter. Obviously, Brooke thought differently.

She’d given Brooke the bare facts about what had happened that night between her and Dylan, explaining how she’d panicked when all the lights had gone out in that nightclub. The entire city had gone dark from what she could tell and she hadn’t been in any shape to drive home. At least she got that part right. No drunk driving for her.

But instead of Brooke coming to pick her up as she’d hoped, Dylan had come to her rescue, as any good guy would. Emma tried to make clear to Brooke that she’d been the one to initiate the lovemaking. Emma remembered that much; she’d begged him to stay with her. She had no recollection of exactly how it all went down, those hours fuzzy in her head, but it was all on her. She’d been scared out of her wits and inebriated. And Dylan was there. She’d lived out her fantasy with him that night, but she didn’t tell Brooke that. Some things were better left unsaid.

“Brooke, I’ll say it again, and this is hard to admit, but I probably climbed all over him that night. I swear, he didn’t take advantage of me.” The worst would be that Brooke would hold anything about that night against Dylan.

Brooke covered her ears. “Emma, pleeeze! No details. I can’t think of Dylan that way.” And then she lowered her hands. “But it’s sweet that you’re trying to protect him. You don’t want me to think badly of my brother. I get that, Em. And I don’t. No one’s to blame.”

“Okay, no details.” Not that she could remember any. “Dylan doesn’t know any of this happened.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I’m sure. I’d know it, if he remembered. I’d see something in his eyes. And he’s never mentioned my phone call that night, or the fact that he came to pick me up from the nightclub. When he came to my apartment the day we went to the children’s hospital, he didn’t seem to recognize anything as familiar. I’m certain that night was erased from his memory.”

“I think so, too. Just making sure there were no signs.”

“Nope, not a one.”

Brooke nodded and then gazed warmly into Emma’s eyes for several ticks of a minute. “You’re going to be the mother of my niece or nephew,” she said as softly as Emma had ever heard her speak. The tone was rich and thick as honey. “And my brother is going to be a father.”

The way Brooke put it was sort of beautiful. Emma could get lost in all the wonder of motherhood, of nurturing a new life and having a man like Dylan father her child. But the wonder didn’t come close to erasing the plain facts. That she and Dylan didn’t plan this child. That he didn’t even have a clue what was happening, yet his life was about to change forever.

“Oh, Brooke. I’m just wrapping my head around it. The baby part has me feeling...I don’t know, protective already and scared.” Emma shivered. “Very scared.”

“You’ll be fine. You have me. And Dylan. He’d never turn his back on you.”

“Gosh, it’s all so new. Part of me feels guilty not telling him about that night. It might’ve triggered some of his memories.”

“You’ll have to tell him now, Em. He has a right to know.”

It was inevitable that she tell Dylan. But she wasn’t looking forward to that conversation. Gosh, he’d been like a big brother to her and now nothing between them would ever be the same.

“I know. I will.”

“Good. You’re in no shape to do the golf event, Em. You’re exhausted and still having morning sickness.”

Emma chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to miss this weekend. All those hours, all that planning. Brooke needed her, but how could she function when she was running to the bathroom all morning long? “Yes, but it’s getting better. Maybe I could come along and help out in the afternoon and evening.”

Brooke was shaking her head. When had she turned into a mama bear? “I’ve got it covered, Emma. You can’t come. You’d be miserable. I’ve got Rocky and Wendy on standby.”

The part-timers?

“I’ve been briefing them and they’re up for the task. I don’t want you to worry about a thing. You should concentrate on the baby and feeling better. We’ll do fine.”

“Are you saying you don’t need me?”

“I’m saying, we’ll make do without you, but of course, we’ll miss you. Thanks to your unending efficiency, we’ve got all the bases covered. You should take this weekend to adjust to all of this. That’s what I want for you. It’s what you need.”




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