One Secret Night, One Secret Baby

Two

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.”