From Doctor...to Daddy / When the Cowboy Said ''I Do'': From Doctor...to Daddy

Chapter Six

Fifteen minutes later, Erika paced Dillon’s living room. She’d agreed to stay until he was finished in the shower. What if the pain in his ribs suddenly got worse?

Dillon had left his cell phone on the occasional table next to the sofa. Just as she heard the shower turn off in the bathroom, his phone chimed. Crossing to it, she picked it up and saw Dr. Babchek’s number in the caller ID.

Hurrying to Dillon’s bedroom, she peeked inside the open door. Apparently Dillon was still in the bathroom. “Dr. Babchek’s on your cell,” she called. “Should I answer?”

The bathroom door opened a crack. “Yes. Thanks. I’ll be out in two minutes.”

She opened the phone and greeted the caller, just as she would if she were sitting outside Dillon’s office. “Good evening, Dr. Babchek. This is Erika Rodriguez, Dr. Traub’s receptionist. Can you hold for about two minutes?”

“I can hold,” Dr. Babchek told her in a deep voice that wasn’t the least bit impatient.

Erika retreated to the hall outside of Dillon’s bedroom. It didn’t seem right to be inside.

When he finally emerged, her breath caught. His hair was still damp from his shower and looked tousled, as though he’d run a towel over it. He was wearing black jogging shorts but there were still beads of water in his chest hair and on his very muscled upper arms. He might as well have been naked the way her heart was racing.

When his gaze landed on her, she blushed and handed him the phone. Although she’d been overwhelmed by the virility emanating from Dillon, she’d still caught sight of the bruising on his left side, which looked bad even to her untrained eye.

She walked beside him into the living room as he said into his phone, “Ron. It’s good to talk to you again. I wondered if you could cover for me tomorrow morning at the resort. I have an appointment at Thunder Canyon General Hospital.”

The doctor must have answered him in the affirmative because Dillon stopped before heading into the living room and nodded. “That’s great. I’ll let Ruthann know you’ll be there until noon.”

When Dillon closed his phone, Erika couldn’t help but ask, “Are you getting checked out at the hospital?”

He shook his head. “You worry too much. No, this is business. I have an appointment with the Chief of Staff.”

She supposed it wasn’t unusual for doctors to consult with each other and she had no right to delve into Dillon’s business.

“If you didn’t have to get home to Emilia, I’d ask you to have dinner with me tonight,” he said casually.

Her gaze lingered on his eyes and then his lips and then his upper body. She swallowed hard. “I do have to get home.”

When he set his hands on her shoulders, her stomach somersaulted. He asked, “Why did you come up to my suite tonight?”

She licked suddenly dry lips. “I told you I was worried about you.”

Silence wound about them, intensifying pheromones, need and awareness. Whatever bond they were forming drew them closer together. Erika breathed in Dillon’s freshly showered scent, longed to feel his skin against hers.

When Dillon wrapped his arms around her, she wound hers around his neck. His body was hard against hers. His mouth took its time with her as he nibbled at her upper lip and lined it with his tongue. She touched his upper lip with hers, thinking that would be the tinder that burst their kiss into flame. But he apparently had more self-control than she did because his lips trailed kisses across her cheek and down her neck. She moaned, feeling weightless in his arms.

Every thought skittered away into pure physical sensation. Then his hands were in her hair, his lips sealed to hers, and the taut pressure gave way to erotic invasion. His kiss seemed to go on forever. She responded to every thrust of his tongue, playing a game of tease and retreat. She felt the shudder that ran through his body and knew they were both dabbling with desire that could explode and hurt them both. Still she couldn’t seem to get enough and neither could he. If his ribs were bothering him, desire must have overridden any discomfort he felt.

The kiss might have urged them to his couch. They might have ended up in his bedroom. But she’d never know because there was a knock at his door.

They both froze.

Dillon pulled away from her just a few inches, called, “Just a minute,” and kept her in his embrace.

She had to find her composure and quickly. This had been a test and she’d failed it miserably. If that knock hadn’t sounded on the door—

She backed away from Dillon … a good foot away. With a deep breath, she let her gaze trail down his upper body again, and it settled on his bruises. She brushed them lightly with the back of her hand, and he winced, obviously in greater pain than he was willing to admit. “While you’re at the hospital tomorrow, please get this checked out.”

She felt his hot gaze on her as she crossed to the table and picked up her purse. Then she went to the door and opened it, welcoming the waiter and Dillon’s supper … escaping back to a life that was safe.

The following evening, Dillon walked up to Erika’s house and pressed her doorbell. Today he had been suddenly aware of time ticking away. He was dissatisfied with allowing his career to become his life. Considering the past few years, he was downright fatigued by beating himself up about his failed marriage … about the god-complex he and other doctors had that they could cure a child in spite of the odds. He also realized he needed to remember Toby well—not sick—and the good times they’d experienced, rather than all the moments he’d missed.

He’d spent the morning at the hospital, thinking about his future, discussing options with the Chief of Staff who understood the needs of Thunder Canyon residents. By the time he’d returned to his office, Erika had gone for the afternoon, working to finalize events for Frontier Days. He’d missed her. He didn’t know what this feeling of connection to her was, but he needed to pursue it.

So here he was, standing at her front door, rationalizing why he’d come, why he was carrying a present for her daughter.

Before he’d left the resort, he’d been steeped in decisions about what came after September. Should he accept the offer to join the concierge practice in Texas? Should he stay near his family? Should he make a move and maybe find a new life in Montana? He was grateful he had choices, but the choice right now didn’t seem clear. This evening, getting away from the resort and his suite had just seemed like a good idea.

The chime from Erika’s doorbell echoed inside. He felt a rush of adrenaline when she answered the door wearing a thigh-length red sweater and black leggings. Her mass of loose waves tumbled around her shoulders and all Dillon wanted to do was run his fingers through them.

Her brown eyes were huge with questions. “This is a surprise.”

Her gaze ran over his black sweater and khakis, and he liked the fact that she looked at him the way he looked at her. “I should have called.”

“But you didn’t.”

She was the kind of woman who wouldn’t let him get away with anything. “If I had called, you could have easily given me an excuse not to see me. Are you busy?”

As if on cue, Emilia’s voice came from inside. “Mommy, pway.”

“I’m a mom,” she reminded him. “I’m always busy.

But I’ve fed Emilia supper and this is our winding-down time. Come on in. How are your ribs?”

“They’re better. Nothing is broken.” He’d had them x-rayed while he was at the hospital.

“Did you have supper?”

“Yes. Sue dropped off some of her soup and homemade bread.”

“She’s a good cook.”

Whereas Erika’s living room had been straightened up the last time he was here, now it had a different look because it had been a two-year-old’s play area for the past couple of hours. Sofa cushions stood cockeyed against the furniture with a blanket draped over the top. Stuffed animals, dolls and doll clothes lay scattered across the rug. Children’s books covered the top of the coffee table, while a coloring book and crayons were left abandoned on the easy chair. The whole atmosphere gave his heart a pang that was warning him he’d made a mistake by coming.

Erika scooped up a few toys and cut him a sideways glance. “Be careful not to trip over anything.”

Emilia was on her hands and knees peeking out of her hideaway at him.

“Hi, there,” he said, crouching down. “Remember me?”

She grinned and crawled out a little farther. “Doctor, doctor.”

“She remembers,” he murmured, stunned by the wonderful-terrible recall of a child. Toby had been like that, too—quick to remember, quick to make friends.

“She remembers what she wants to remember, so you must have made an impression,” Erika joked.

“That could be good or bad,” he said drily. “Come here, Emilia, I have something for you.” He wiggled the box.

Emilia scrambled out from under the cushions and blanket, pushed herself to her feet and ran over to him. One of her little overall straps was falling over her shoulder. She bumped against Dillon’s knees, holding on to them to balance herself.

He pushed her shoulder strap up where it belonged on top of the little white blouse covered with dancing dogs. “Would you like to open this?”

He set the box on the floor because it was too big for her to handle. Emilia squatted down beside it.

Erika said, “What do you say, baby?”

“Tank you,” Emilia told Dillon with a little smile.

“You’re very welcome. I hope you like it.”

Dillon helped Emilia with the package, which pictured a busy box with lights and music on the box.

“I already put the batteries in,” he told Erika.

“You’ve thought of everything.” Her eyes were full of questions, questions he didn’t know if he could answer.

After Dillon helped Emilia open the box and extract the toy, he pressed one of the buttons. A tiger popped up, music played and a blue light flashed.

“Oh, she’s going to love this,” Erika murmured. “Lights and music fascinate her right now.” She dropped to the floor beside her daughter and sat cross-legged, grinning as Emilia pushed the next button and an elephant popped up with a green light flashing.

Emilia giggled. Pointing to the elephant, she said, “Dumbo.”

“That’s the elephant in one of her books,” Erika explained, with a mother’s pride that her daughter was learning.

As Dillon watched mother and daughter, as he joined in laughing with them, seeing Emilia learn, his heart burned with remembered warmth. The feeling was bittersweet. Pictures of hugging Toby, reading to him and kissing him good-night played across a screen in his mind. Then it was swiftly followed by a feeling of powerlessness because he hadn’t been able to keep his son from slipping away.

Suddenly Emilia stopped playing with the toy. She climbed to her feet, ran to Dillon and held her little arms up to him. “Huggy, huggy,” she said as if he should know what that meant.

Dillon sought Erika’s gaze for translation.

“She wants a hug, and she wants to hug you.”

With a lump in his throat, Dillon wrapped his arms around Emilia and, ignoring the pain in his side, lifted her onto his lap. He gave her a hug and she hugged him back, burying her face in his sweater.

He ran his hand over her wavy hair, feeling his throat tighten.

“I think she’s getting sleepy.” Erika’s voice was low and husky and he wondered what she was thinking. But she didn’t tell him as she gathered Emilia from his arms. “Come on, honey.”

But Emilia began fussing and pointing to the toy Dillon had given her.

“All right. We can take it to your room. But you can’t have it in bed with you.”

“I’ll bring it,” Dillon said.

Erika’s gaze sought his. “This could take a little while. Sometimes the last thing she wants to do is go to sleep.”

“D.J.’s wife, Allaire, told me the same thing about their little boy.”

“You said he’s two, right?” Erika asked as they climbed the staircase to Emilia’s room.

“Yes. A couple of months older than Emilia.”

“And your cousin Dax has children, too?”

“His wife, Shandie, had a little girl when they married, but Dax is as bonded to her as he is to his son.”

Emilia was babbling now to herself and Erika kissed her little girl’s cheek.

Dillon felt a band of painful longing tighten around his heart.

Emilia’s room was painted yellow. There were cutouts of Winnie the Pooh, Tigger and Eeyore on the walls. Dillon felt as if he had no right to be part of this nightly ritual, but the urge to watch mother and daughter was strong and he leaned against the doorway.

Erika was totally caught up in changing Emilia … and slipping her little nightshirt decorated with lollipops over her head. All the while, she spoke to her. “Soon we’ll have to find you some pj’s with footsies.”

“She’ll probably enjoy the snow this year,” Dillon offered, suddenly needing to be part of the conversation, not wanting to feel like an outsider.

Erika tossed a look over her shoulder as she sat Emilia on the changing table, holding onto her at her waist. “She’ll be fascinated by it,” Erika agreed. “And I can’t wait for the holidays. She’ll be able to dip her hands in the cookie dough, notice the angel on top of the tree and maybe understand a little of the magic of the season.”

“You still find it magical?”

Erika nodded, then added, “And holy.”

The true meaning of Christmas had fallen by the wayside for Dillon. Since Toby had died and Megan had left, all the holiday meant was a dinner with his mother and Peter and his brothers and sister. But suddenly, standing here with Erika and her little girl, he saw even that dinner in a different light. A family was bigger than the sum of its individual parts, much bigger. Maybe his resentful feelings about Peter had been one more element that had marred his marriage and his feelings about his family for too many years.

As Erika carried Emilia to her crib, she said, “You look as if you’re deep in thought.”

“Not too deep,” he returned nonchalantly, but he could see she wasn’t buying it.

She took a stuffed dog from the corner of the crib and handed it to Emilia. Her daughter tucked the dog into her body like the precious comfort that it was.

“Can you say good-night to Dr. Dillon?” Erika asked her.

Emilia held on to the crib railing, rocking back and forth from one foot to the other. Then she smiled at him and said, “Nighty-night, Dr. Diwwon.”

The tug toward mother and child was so strong Dillon couldn’t resist. Crossing to them, he gave Emilia a good-night hug. “Nighty-night, little one.” Then in turmoil because of conflicting emotions, he said, “I’ll wait downstairs,” and left the nursery.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d straightened the books on the coffee table and righted the cushions on the sofa. Erika descended the stairs, adjusted the baby monitor on the side table and sank down on the couch a few inches away from him.

“Thank you,” she said, motioning to the room. “You didn’t have to straighten up.”

“I needed something to do.”

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