One Secret Night, One Secret Baby. Charlene Sands
keep conniving women away from him?â
âI try my best.â Brooke propped her feet on a cocktail table and sighed. âIâm getting excited about the celebrity golf tournament coming up. This is one of the biggest events weâve ever booked. And we got it all on our own. No intervention from Dylan. They donât even know heâs my brother. Dylan doesnât play golf.â
âI donât?â Dylan walked into the room looking adorably rumpled. It was the five-oâclock shadow, the mussed-to-perfection hair and those deep blue bedroom eyes that did Emma in. He wore a pair of black sweats and a white T-shirt.
âNo, you donât,â Brooke said, eyeing him carefully.
He grinned. âJust joking. I know I donât play golf. At least I have memories of tanking every shot. Never did get the hang of it.â
âBrat. What are you doing up?â
On a long sigh, he ran a hand down his face. âI canât sleep. Iâm going for a walk. Iâll see you guys later. Thanks again for everything.â
Brookeâs mouth opened, but he was out the back door before she could stop him. âDarn it. Heâs still having dizzy spells. Will you go with him, Emma? Tell him youâre in the mood for a walk, too. He already thinks I baby him enough.â
Emma balked. She was three minutes away from escaping to go home. âI, uh...â
âPlease?â Brooke begged. âIf youâre with him, he wonât get it into his head to start jogging. I know he misses it. Heâs been complaining about not doing his daily runs. Itâs almost dark on the beach. He could collapse and no one would know.â
It was true. The doctor said he shouldnât overdo any physical activity. How could she deny Brooke the peace of mind? Sheâd been worried sick about her brother lately. âOkay, Iâll go.â
âThatâs why I love you.â Brooke sounded relieved.
Emma bent to remove her heels and rose from the sofa. âYou better,â she said. âI donât chase handsome A-list movie stars for just anyone.â With that, she walked out the back entrance of Dylanâs mansion, climbed down the stairs, searched for signs of him and took off at a jog when sheâd seen how far heâd already traveled.
âDylan,â she called, her toes squishing into wet sand as she trudged rapidly after him. âWait up.â
He turned around and slowed his pace.
âWould you like company?â Her breathing ragged, she fibbed, âI feel like a walk, too.â
âLet me guess. Brooke sent you.â
She shrugged. âMaybe I just felt like taking a walk?â
His mouth lifted in a dubious smile. âAnd maybe the moon is green.â
âEveryone knows the moon is made of cheese, therefore itâs yellow.â
He shook his head, seeming to relinquish his skepticism. âOkay, letâs walk. Actually, I would like your company.â
He took her hand, his fingers lacing with hers.
How...unexpected. Her breath froze in her chest.
âIt was a nice memorial, wasnât it?â he asked as he resumed walking.
There was a slight tug on her hand that woke her from her stupor and she fell in step with him. âIt was heartwarming. You honored Roy with a wonderful tribute to his life.â
âIâm the only family he had, aside from his crew. He was a great guy and itâs just a ridiculous shame. Roy was obsessed with his stunts. He spent his whole life perfecting them. He was the most cautious man Iâve ever known. It just doesnât make sense.â
âTheyâre saying it was a freakish accident.â
Dylan took a sharp breath. âThatâs what they say when they donât know what happened. Itâs the standard answer.â
They walked on in silence for a while, the heat from where he held her hand warming her entire body. It was actually a perfect evening for a stroll on the beach. Breezes blew at the twist of hair at the back of her head. She reached up and pulled it out of its band, freeing the long waves that touched the middle of her back.
âSo tell me whatâs going on in your life, Emma.â
Her brows gathered at the oddity of the request. Dylan knew just about everything about her. She was Brookeâs friend and business partner. She lived in a tiny apartment twenty minutes away from Moonlight Beach. She loved her work and didnât go out much.
Oh, no! Did he remember something? Blood drained from her face as her mind worked overtime for signs that heâd remembered that blackout night. But as she dared to gaze at his profile, his eyes didnât probe her but stayed straight ahead, his neutral expression unchanged. She let out a relieved sigh. Maybe he needed to break the silence. Maybe he was just making conversation. And maybe her guilty conscience was wringing her dry.
âThe same old, same old,â she answered. âWork, work, work.â
âStill hoping to make your first million before thirty?â
Her laugh came out a little too high-pitched. Brooke mustâve told him of her long-term goal. How embarrassing. Ever since she was a child, money had been scarce. Her foster parents didnât have much and were stingy in sharing. She didnât know that until sheâd grown into a teen, of course, and witnessed how theyâd splurge what they did have on each other. Never her. She grew up mostly wearing thrift store clothes. From the age of thirteen, Emma knew sheâd have to find her own way in the world. Sheâd worked her ass off, achieving a full scholarship to college, and vowed sheâd become financially independent one day. The promise she made herself was that by the age of thirty, she would make her first million. She had several years to go, but her hopes were high of expanding Parties-To-Go into a million-dollar franchise.
âYour sister, my best friend, needs to button her mouth.â
âDonât blame Brooke,â he said softly. âI think itâs commendable to have goals.â
âLofty goals.â
âAttainable goals and you work hard, Emma.â
âWithout your investment, we wouldnât even have a business.â
âI just helped you get started, and in the two years since youâve been working at it, youâve come a long way.â
âWe owe you, Dylan. Youâve been amazing. We want to make you proud.â
Dylan stopped, his Nikes digging into the sand, and when she turned to him, a genuine smile graced his handsome face. Gone was the sadness from before. A glint of appreciation twinkled in his eyes. âYou donât owe me anything. And I am proud. Youâre a hard worker, and youâre paying me back faster than I expected or wanted. But, Em, I have to tell you, as much as you believe Brooke has helped you through the growing-up years, youâve helped her, too. She came to California hoping to become an actress. God, itâs a tough business. Iâve been lucky...more fortunate than I couldâve hoped, but itâs not the same for Brooke. Sheâs much happier now, being in business with her best friend and earning a legitimate living doing what she loves. I owe that to you. So thank you for being...you.â
Dylan leaned in, his face coming within inches of hers. Her heart rate escalated as she stared at his mouth. She understood