One Secret Night, One Secret Baby Page 4

  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.