Today had been magical. The way Dylan had fed her morsels from his plate at lunchtime, and walked through Paris hand in hand with her; the way he’d automatically offered her his jacket and then, when she’d refused, put his arm round her to keep her warm... Was she adding two and two and making five, or was it the same for him? Had they become something more than co-guardians? Was this a real relationship—one for keeps?
Dylan was back by the time she came downstairs.
‘Everything OK?’ he asked.
‘Tyler’s fine. Thank you for today. It really was special.’ She stood up, intending to kiss his cheek. But somehow she ended up brushing her mouth against his instead.
She pulled back and looked up at him.
His eyes were intense, darkened from their normal cornflower-blue to an almost stormy navy. She shivered, and couldn’t help looking at his mouth again.
He leaned forward and touched his mouth to hers in the lightest, sweetest kiss. Automatically, she parted her lips and tipped her head back in offering. He drew her closer and she could feel the lean, hard strength of his body. So much for Dylan being a geek; he felt more like the athlete she’d once dated, all muscular. And she couldn’t help remembering the way he’d looked in her bed, half-naked and asleep.
Her hands were tangled in his hair and his arms were wrapped tightly round her as he deepened the kiss. Her head was spinning, and it felt as if the room were lit by a hundred stars.
He shuddered as he broke the kiss. ‘Emmy.’
‘I know.’ She reached up to trace his lower lip with the tip of her forefinger.
‘Are we going to regret this in the morning?’ he asked, his voice huskier this time.
‘I don’t know. Maybe not.’ She shivered as he drew the tip of her forefinger into his mouth and sucked; she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, inviting another kiss.
He released her hand. ‘Emmy. My common sense is deserting me. If you don’t tell me to stop...’ he warned.
Then she knew what was going to happen.
And every nerve in her body longed for it.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. ‘Yes.’
Still holding her gaze, he scooped her up and carried her up the stairs.
EMMY LAY IN the dark, curled against Dylan.
Are we going to regret this in the morning? His words from earlier echoed in her head.
Would they?
Part of her regretted it already. Because she was scared that now everything could go really wrong. When had she ever managed to make a relationship last? When had she ever picked the right man? What if Dylan changed his mind about her?
‘I can almost hear you thinking,’ he said softly, stroking her hair.
‘Panicking,’ she admitted. ‘Dylan—I’m not good at this stuff. I’ve messed up every relationship I’ve ever had.’
‘You’re good at picking Mr Wrong,’ he said. ‘And you think I might be another.’ He shifted so he could brush his mouth against hers. ‘Maybe I’m not.’
She swallowed hard. ‘I swore I’d never risk anything like this again, not after the last time.’
‘What happened? He was another one who wanted you to change?’
‘No,’ she said miserably. ‘Far worse. I should’ve told you before. He was married.’ She grimaced. ‘Finding out that I was the other woman...I hated myself for that.’
‘You didn’t know?’
‘No. Especially after what happened to my mum, no way would I ever have tried to break up a family like that. I found out when I called his mobile phone and his wife answered.’ Her breath hitched. ‘I wasn’t the first. Far from it. But I felt so horrible that I’d done that to someone. My mum was devastated when my father had affairs; and I felt like the lowest of the low for making someone else feel like that.’
‘It’s not your fault if he lied to you,’ Dylan pointed out. He sighed. ‘Though I don’t have room to talk, do I? Technically, I’m married.’
‘You’ve been separated for months, and you’re just waiting for that last bit of paper to come through. That’s totally different. You’ve been honest with me. He wasn’t. Though I should’ve worked it out for myself,’ Emmy said. ‘Afterwards, when I thought about it, it was really obvious. We always went to my place rather than his, and he never stayed overnight. If we did go out, we only ever went to obscure places, and half the time we’d have to call it off—he said it was because of work, but it was obviously because he was doing family things. I should’ve seen it.’
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Dylan said again. ‘You wouldn’t have had anything to do with him if you’d known he was married. He was the cheat, not you.’ He sighed. ‘And his wife...maybe she loved him very much, but it’s still a shame that she’d let herself be treated like that. It sounds to me as if she deserved better. And so do you.’
‘I don’t know, Dylan. Sometimes my judgement is atrocious.’
‘Mine, too,’ he said. ‘But it’s late, we’ve had a long day, and now maybe isn’t the best time to talk. Go to sleep, Em.’ He drew her closer.
Well, at least he hadn’t walked away, she thought.
Yet.
* * *
The next morning, Emmy was dimly aware of crying. Loud crying, which was turning into screams.
She sat up, suddenly wide awake. Tyler. She hadn’t put the baby listener on last night. Because she’d...
Oh, no.
She looked at the other side of her bed.
Where Dylan was also sitting up. Completely naked. And looking shocked, embarrassed and awkward.
That made two of them. They’d complicated things hugely, last night. How were they ever going to fix this?
She glanced at the clock: half past nine. A good two and a half hours later than they were usually up. No wonder Tyler was crying. She’d missed her Pilates class. And Dylan would be lucky to get to the office on time for a meeting she knew he had this morning.
‘Oh, my God. We’re really late,’ she said. ‘And Tyler’s screaming.’
Dylan looked at her. ‘Emmy, we need to talk about this, but—’
‘You have a meeting, and I need to feed Tyler.’
‘I feel bad about leaving without...’ He grimaced.
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she said. ‘Can you close your eyes for a moment?’ It was ridiculous, she knew, considering they’d both explored each other’s bodies in considerable detail the night before; but she felt shy and exposed.
He mumbled something, clearly feeling as embarrassed as she did, and closed his eyes; she fled to the door, grabbed her bathrobe, and put it on as she raced to the baby’s room.
And hopefully by the time she and Dylan talked, she would’ve rediscovered her common sense and worked out how they could deal with this with the minimum fallout for Tyler.
She scooped Tyler out of his cot and held him close. ‘OK, babe, Aunty Emmy and Uncle Dylan messed up. But we’ll fix things.’ And they would fix things, because they didn’t have any other option. ‘Come on, let’s get you some breakfast.’
The