One Secret Night, One Secret Baby

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.”