The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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than earned it, taking over all my duties and giving me the time to work, so don’t argue. We’ll sort out the time when you get home tonight, and I’ll book somewhere.’ She paused. ‘One last thing. They want to take a few shots of me here, at my workbench. Um, this afternoon. Do you have a problem with that?’
‘No, it’s fine. Do you need me back early to look after Tyler?’
‘Hopefully the photographer will be here while Tyler’s taking a nap. Or, if he wakes, it won’t matter if he’s in the shots. If that’s OK with you, that is.’
‘It’s fine,’ he said again. ‘I’ll see you later.’
* * *
The journalist arrived while Tyler was still awake, so Emmy made her a coffee and played with the baby while she answered questions, hoping that she didn’t come across as too flaky or too distracted. And Tyler decided to forego his nap, so when the photographer arrived—two hours later than they’d arranged—he ended up being in the shots.
They were halfway through the photo shoot when Dylan arrived.
‘Sorry—am I in the way?’ he asked, coming in to Emmy’s workroom.
‘No—we’re running late,’ Emmy said.
Tyler held out his hands to Dylan, who smiled and scooped him into his arms, then kissed him roundly. ‘Hello, trouble. Aren’t you supposed to be having a nap right now?’ he asked.
The baby gurgled and clapped his hands.
‘Come on. Let’s give Emmy some peace and quiet.’ He glanced over at Emmy, the journalist and the photographer. ‘I’m about to put the kettle on. Coffee?’
‘Thanks, that’d be great,’ Emmy said gratefully. ‘Oh, sorry, I haven’t introduced you. Dylan, this is Mike and Flo from the magazine. Flo, Mike, this is Dylan Harper.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ Dylan said. ‘Milk or sugar?’
‘Just milk for me,’ Flo said.
‘Black, two sugars,’ Mike said.
‘Back in a tick,’ Dylan said, winked at Emmy, and whisked Tyler out of the workroom.
‘Wow, he’s gorgeous and domesticated. The perfect man,’ Flo said wistfully.
Just what Emmy was starting to think, though wild horses wouldn’t make her admit it, especially if there was a danger of Dylan overhearing her. ‘He has his moments,’ she said gruffly.
‘You’re just so lucky. This house, that cute baby, and that gorgeous man. And you’re talented as well. If you weren’t so nice, I’d have to hate you,’ Flo said.
‘Hang on—you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Ty’s not ours. Well, he is ours,’ Emmy said, ‘but we’re not his parents.’
‘Adopted? That’s lovely.’
‘We’re his guardians. We were his parents’ best friends.’ Emmy explained the situation with Ally and Pete as succinctly as she could. ‘Dylan and I just share a house and Ty’s care.’
Flo raised an eyebrow. ‘Just housemates—with the way you two look at each other? Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
Oh, help. Emmy didn’t dare ask Flo to expand on that. Obviously she thought Dylan looked at her as if he were in love with her—which Emmy knew wasn’t the case. But she really hoped that she didn’t look at him as if she were mooning over him. Because she wasn’t. Was she? ‘We’re just...’ Her voice faded.
‘Good friends?’ Flo asked.
No. They weren’t. Though they were on the way to becoming friends. There was a real easiness between them nowadays. ‘Something like that,’ Emmy said carefully.
‘Gotcha.’ Flo tapped her nose. ‘So what does he do?’
‘He’s—well, I guess you’d call him a computer superguru,’ Emmy said.
Flo scribbled something on her notepad. ‘Clever as well as easy on the eye. Nice.’
‘Mmm.’ Emmy wriggled uncomfortably, and was relieved when the photographer asked her to pose for some more shots and Flo changed the subject back to her work. Something safe. Whereas Dylan Harper was starting to become dangerous.
* * *
On Saturday evening, her planned thank-you meal with Dylan felt more like a date. Which was crazy. Though of course she’d had to dress up a bit for it; she couldn’t just go out in her usual black trousers and a zany top.
And it felt even more like a date when the taxi arrived and her mother kissed them both goodbye at the door. ‘Don’t worry, Tyler’s in safe hands—just go out and enjoy yourselves. And don’t hurry back.’
Emmy felt almost shy with him, and she didn’t manage to make any small talk in the taxi. Neither did he, she noticed. Was it because he was a geek with no social skills, or was it because he felt the same kind of awkwardness that she did? The same kind of awareness?
‘Nice choice,’ Dylan said approvingly when they reached the small Italian restaurant she’d booked. ‘And I’m buying champagne. No arguments from you.’
Even though that was pretty much negating the point of the evening, it also broke the ice, and Emmy grinned. ‘When have you known me argue with you, Dylan?’ she teased.
He laughed back. ‘Not for a few weeks, I admit.’
‘I really appreciate your support over the article.’
‘You would’ve done the same for me,’ he pointed out.
‘Well, yes. But it’s still appreciated. You put yourself out.’
The waiter ushered them to their table, and the awkwardness returned. Emmy didn’t have a clue what to say to Dylan. This was ridiculously like a first date, where you knew hardly anything about each other. She’d lived with him for weeks now and knew a fair bit about what made him tick—what brightened his day, and what he needed before he could be human first thing in the morning—but at the same time he was still virtually a stranger. He hadn’t opened up to her about anything emotional. She knew nothing about his childhood or why his marriage broke up or what he really wanted out of life. He kept himself closed off. They were partners of a sort, stand-in parents to their godchild; and yet at the same time they weren’t partners at all.
The champagne arrived and Dylan lifted his glass in a toast. ‘To you, and every success in that magazine.’
‘Thank you.’ She lifted her own glass. ‘To you, and thanks for—well, being there for me.’
‘Any time.’
Given that Dylan didn’t have a clue how to be nice to people for the sake of it, she knew he meant it, and it made her feel warm inside.
‘It was good of your mum to babysit. She’s really nice,’ Dylan said.
Was she imagining things, or did he sound wistful? ‘Isn’t yours?’ she asked, before she could stop herself.
‘She travels a lot.’
Which told her precisely nothing. She could see that Dylan was busy putting up metaphorical barbed-wire fences with ‘keep out’ notices stuck to them, so she stuck with the safer topic. ‘You’re right, my mum’s really nice. I’m lucky because she’s always been really supportive.’ She sighed. ‘I just wish I could find someone for her who deserves her.’
Dylan raised an eyebrow. ‘Your mum’s single?’
She nodded. ‘I nag her into dating sometimes. So does her best friend, but she always turns down a second date with whoever it is, or agrees they’d be better off as just friends. I guess she’s never found anyone she really trusts.’
He sat and waited,