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A chuckle rumbled from Emmaâs throat. âI know all about Brookeâs tactics. I work with her.â
âHey!â Brooke said. âYouâre supposed to be on my side.â
âLike I said, Emmaâs a diplomat. Thanks for the drink.â He lifted his glass in mock toast and then pivoted around and walked away.
âHeâll be okay,â Brooke said, watching him head back to his guests. âWe just have to do whatever it takes to help him along.â
Dread formed a tight knot in Emmaâs stomach. She hated keeping secrets from Brooke. They usually shared everything. But how exactly could she come out and say, I begged your brother to sleep with me the night of the blackout and all I remember is his body on mine, heated breaths and sexy words whispered in my ear. She didnât remember how she got in bed or when he left her that night. She couldnât recall how theyâd ended things. Were there parting words recognizing the big mistake? Or had he promised to call her? He had no knowledge of what theyâd done, but geesh, she didnât recall much of that night, either.
âOh, brother,â she mumbled.
âWhat?â Brooke asked.
âNothing. Nothing at all.â
* * *
âBrooke, you did a wonderful job today,â Callista said, leaning her arms over the granite island, spilling her cleavage and smiling her billion-dollar smile. The sun was setting and all but one guest had left the memorial service. âYou helped make the day easier for your brother.â
âIt wasnât just me, Callie,â Brooke said. âEmma did her fair share of the work and weâd both do anything to help Dylan get through this day.â
Callistaâs gaze darted Emmaâs way as if sheâd just noticed her standing there. Hello, Iâm not invisible. âOf course, you, too, Emma.â She spoke to her as if she were a child. What was it with rich powerful women that made them feel superior, just by right of wealth? Emma could probably run circles around her SAT scores. âYou did a marvelous job.â
âDylanâs a special guy and Iâm happy to help.â
Callista gave her a cursory nod, eyeing her for just a second as if measuring the competition, and then turned away, writing her off.
âBrooke, do you know where Dylan is? I want to say goodbye to him and tell him his eulogy was touching.â
âYeah, I do. He said to say goodbye to you for him. The day tired him out. He went to sleep.â
âHeâs in bed already?â Callista straightened and her gaze moved toward the hallway staircase. She knew exactly where Dylanâs bedroom was. âMaybe I should go up and wish him good-night.â
âHe, uh, needs uninterrupted rest. Doctorâs orders.â Brookeâs accomplished smile brought Emma a stream of silent chuckles. Leave it to Brooke. She was in defense mode now.
âYes, of course, youâre right.â She nibbled on her lip, shooting another longing glance at the staircase. Then her expression changed. âHe does need to rest up so he can be back on set as soon as possible.â
The SEAL movie had been shut down for a month already and it was costing the studio big bucks, so Dylanâs return to the set was essential. Even Callista recognized that fact. âTell him Iâll call him.â
âWill do, Callie. Iâll walk you out.â
âOh, thatâs not necessary,â Callista said.
âI donât mind.â
After the two left, Emma couldnât contain her laughter. She knew for certain Callista Lee Allen hated to be called Callie, yet she let Brooke get away with it because she was Dylanâs sister.
What a day it had been. Selfishly, Emma was glad it was over. She didnât like walking around with a cloud of guilt over her head. She hoped âout of sight, out of mindâ would work on her. As soon as she left Dylanâs house, maybe her head would clear and sheâd be free of this grating bug gnawing at her to tell Dylan what happened between them.
Finished with her duties, the house clean and back to normal, thanks to Maisey and her efforts, Emma took a seat on one of the many white leather sofas in the living room. A pastel pop of color fading on the horizon grabbed her attention as she looked out the window. The sunset was beautiful on Moonlight Beach. She leaned back, closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the waves breaking on the shore.
âMission accomplished,â Brooke said, clapping her hands. âSheâs gone.â
Emma snapped to attention as Brooke sat down beside her. âYouâre a regular Mama Bear. Who knew?â
âNormally, Dylan can take care of himself, but right now, he needs a little help. What else are meddling little sisters for anyway?â
âTo 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 now why his female fans swooned. He was breathtaking and yummy. There was no other way to describe it. âYouâre the amazing one, Emma,â he whispered.
Her mind going fuzzy, she whispered back, âI am?â
As he inched closer, taking her into his arms, angling for her cheek, her entire body relaxed. Of course, heâd give her a sisterly kiss on the cheek. She closed her eyes.
His warm lips came down softly.
On her mouth.
Oh, sheâd died and gone to heaven. His lips were warm and giving and soothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brazenly returned the kiss. Wow. It was all so new. And exciting. Dylan McKay was kissing her on Moonlight Beach at sunset and she was fully in the moment this time. There were no gaps of memory from a fuzzy brain. There wasnât anything but right now, this speck of time, and she relished the taste of him, the amazing texture of his firm lips caressing hers, the strength and power of his body close to hers.
But something still seemed slightly off with his kiss. She couldnât quite put her finger on it. Was it just that she was fully aware, fully attuned to him right now?
Dylan broke off the kiss first, and instead of backing away, he grasped Emma to his chest tightly like a little boy needing the comfort of his favorite stuffed toy. Elmo or Teddy or Winnie the Pooh.
She stood in his embrace for long moments. He sighed and continued to hold her. Then his mouth touched her right earlobe and he whispered, âThank you. I needed your company tonight, Emma.â
What could she say? Was she foolish enough to think he remembered their night of passion and wanted more? No, that wasnât it. Dylan needed comforting. Maybe what she considered to be a heart-melting kiss, only counted as a friendly measure of comfort for a man whose life was full of adoration. At least, she could give him that.
Her secret was safe.
âYouâre welcome, Dylan.â
Glad to be of service.
Two (#ulink_2fa103be-7afb-562c-b0c1-ef3181ef58f5)
Dylan wasnât himself. That had to explain why heâd kissed Emma as though he meant it. Actually, he had meant it in that instant. She was familiar to him. He knew the score with her, his sister Brookeâs best friend. Someone he could trust. Someone he could rely on. The meds he was taking lessened his headaches and he was recovering, feeling better every day. But having a chunk of his memory gone affected his decision making and confidence, made him vulnerable and uncertain.
But one thing he was certain about: kissing Emma had made him feel better. It was the best kiss heâd had in a long time. It packed a wallop. He knew that without question. Those big green eyes that sparkled like emeralds wouldnât steer him wrong. Heâd needed the connection to feel whole again. To feel like himself.
Had he gotten all that from one mildly passionate kiss? Yeah. Because it was with Emma and he knew his limitations with her. She was untouchable and sweet with a side of sassy. So heâd kissed her and let the sugar in her fill him up and take away the pain in his heart.
âYouâre quiet,â he said to her as they walked back toward his house. âWas the kiss out of line?â
âNo. Not at all. You needed someone.â
He covered her hand with his again and squeezed gently. âNot just anyone, Emma. I needed someone I could trust. You. Sorry if I came on too strong.â
âYou...didnât.â
But she didnât sound so sure.
âIt was just a kiss, Dylan. Itâs not as if you havenât kissed me before.â
âBirthday kisses donât count.â
She was quiet for a second. âI didnât have a lot of affection when I was younger. Those birthday kisses meant a lot to me.â
He gave her another quick squeeze of the hand. âI know. Hey, remember the face-plant kiss?â
âOh, God. Donât bring that up, Dylan. Iâm still mortified. Your parents went to a lot of trouble to make that cake for me.â
He chuckled at the image popping into his head. âDamn, that was funny.â