Which was why she found her most frumpy pair of pyjamas before she showered, just to make the point that there was nothing sexual about this. She felt amazingly shy as she changed into her nightwear—which was ridiculous, considering that she was covered from head to toe and she knew that Dylan had seen more of her body when she was wearing a dress. Even so, she kept the bedside light on its lowest setting.
There was a knock on the door.
And how stupid that her heart missed a beat.
‘Come in,’ she called, hoping that her voice didn’t sound as husky and nervous to him as it did to her.
He walked in wearing just a pair of pyjama bottoms, carrying the sleeping baby.
‘I, um, don’t tend to wear a pyjama top because I get too hot at night. Is that a problem for you?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ She really hoped he hadn’t heard that little shiver in her voice. Too hot at night. Oh-h-h. He looked amazingly hot right now. She could really see that he worked out at the gym regularly because his muscles were beautifully sculpted; he had good abs and strong arms, and he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a perfume ad. Especially dressed the way he was, right now.
And that was totally inappropriate. He was here in her bedroom because Tyler was sick and they were sharing his care, that was all.
‘Which side of the bed do you prefer to sleep on?’ he asked.
‘The right side—nearest the door,’ she said.
‘Fine by me.’ He pulled the covers back and gently laid Tyler in the middle of the bed. He touched the baby’s forehead and grimaced. ‘He still feels hot.’
‘We’d better not put a cover over him, then.’
They both climbed into bed, on either side of the baby.
‘Poor little mite,’ Emmy said softly. ‘I wish I could have that high temperature for him.’
‘Me, too,’ Dylan said. ‘It’s weird how protective I feel about him. I never thought I’d ever feel this way about a baby.’
It was as if Tyler were their natural child, Emmy thought. She wasn’t his birth mother, but she was in the position of his mother, now, and she loved him deeply. Dylan clearly felt the same way, as if he were Tyler’s real father.
‘We’re privileged,’ she said softly.
‘Yes, we are.’ He paused. ‘Shall I take the first shift while you try to get some sleep for a couple of hours? I’ll wake you when it’s your turn.’
‘OK. Thanks, Dylan. I appreciate the backup.’
‘You’d have done the same if it’d been my turn to look after him,’ he said. ‘Try to get some sleep.’
She turned over so her back was to him, but she was so aware of him. He was in her bed, barely an arm’s reach away. And if Tyler hadn’t been there...
No, no and no. She was not going to allow herself to think about the possibilities.
Eventually Emmy managed to get to sleep. Then she became aware of someone stroking her arm and shaking her shoulder very gently. ‘Emmy? Wake up.’
‘Uhh.’ It took a second for her to think why Dylan would be shaking her awake; then she remembered and sat up with a jolt. ‘Is Tyler OK?’
‘He’s still a bit warm, but I put a single sheet over him because his legs and arms seemed a bit cold.’
‘Good idea. You get some sleep now. I’ll stay awake.’
Still feeling groggy, she placed her fingertips on Tyler’s forehead. Dylan’s assessment was spot on.
She was glad that Dylan turned his back to her to go to sleep, because she really didn’t want him to catch her looking lustfully at him. Even his back was beautiful. She itched to sketch him, though it was years since she’d taken her Art A level and sketched a life model. Apart from those brief sketches she’d made of Tyler, she’d stuck mainly to abstracts and the designs for her jewellery. But Dylan was beautiful. He’d be a joy to sketch. She fixed the picture in her mind, intending to indulge herself later, then watched Tyler sleeping. The baby looked angelic with that mop of dark curls; and she was glad to see, even in the low light in the room, that his cheeks didn’t look quite so red.
In his sleep, Dylan shifted to face her. In repose, he looked younger. It took Emmy a while to realise what the difference was, and then she worked it out: he didn’t have that slight air of wariness she was used to.
Someone had hurt him pretty deeply, Emmy was sure. Nadine was the obvious candidate, but Emmy had a feeling that it went deeper than that. Why had he been so resistant to the idea of having a child of his own? Had he had a rotten childhood?
Not that he’d tell her, she knew. Even if she asked him straight out. He was way too private for that, and it was surprising that he’d already let this much slip to her.
Finally her two-hour watch was over. She checked Tyler’s temperature again. Good. It was definitely going down. She reached over to lay a hand on Dylan’s arm. His skin felt so good against her fingertips. Soft and smooth. Tempting her to explore further.
Get a grip, Emmy Jacobs, she lambasted herself silently. This isn’t about you.
She patted his arm lightly, but it didn’t wake him at all. She shook his shoulder, and there was still no response. Dylan was clearly in a really deep sleep. And he had taken the first shift; he must’ve been exhausted. She decided to leave him sleeping for another hour, then tried to wake him again. This time, she climbed out of bed and went round to his side, so she could shake him harder without waking the baby.
In response, Dylan reached out to her and mumbled something she didn’t quite catch. It sounded like ‘Mmm, Dee’.
‘Dylan,’ she said in an urgent whisper.
‘Mmm,’ he muttered. This time, he actually pulled her into his arms and snuggled closer.
Oh, help.
If it weren’t for the baby lying next to him, she could be oh, so tempted. All she had to do was to move her head slightly and her mouth would touch against his. She could kiss him awake. See where it led them.
But he’d said ‘Dee’, and she had a nasty feeling that he was dreaming about his ex. Mmm, Dee. Nadine. They sounded the same, mumbled in sleep. And how stupid she was to think that Dylan would get over his wife that quickly. He was obviously still in love with his ex. Yes, there was a definite attraction between the two of them, but physical attraction wasn’t enough. Her relationships never lasted. If she had a fling with Dylan, it would make everything way too complicated. She really couldn’t do this.
She managed to resist the temptation—only just—and wriggled out of his arms.
‘Dylan,’ she said, more loudly this time.
He woke with a start and looked at her in utter confusion. Then his expression cleared as he obviously remembered where he was and why. ‘How’s Tyler?’
‘Still a little bit warm, but nowhere near as hot as he was. He’s asleep.’
‘Good. Is it three o’clock?’
‘Four.’
He looked shocked. ‘You were supposed to wake me at three.’
‘Dylan, you sleep like a log. I couldn’t wake you.’
He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry. OK. I’ll take