The Playboy's Baby Read Online Free Page B

been able to dream about once upon a time.
    A soft blush stole across Emma’s cheeks. She looked at the baby, gently shushing her. A frigid wind blew past him into the house and whipped her hair around her face.
    “I’m not.” She glanced at him, her brows drawn together. “Can we come in? It’s cold and I don’t want her to catch a chill.”
    “Sorry.” He stepped back and pulled the door open wider. “You surprised me. Janey never told me you had a baby.”
    A thought that quickly had his chest constricting. Janey hadn’t told him much of anything for well over a year. His best friend had become a stranger.
    Emma stopped inside the doorway and stared at him like she’d just seen a ghost. A split second later, the look disappeared and her mouth curled into a tight smile. “Smells good in here. Lasagna?”
    She turned that smile on him, waiting expectantly, and set the car seat on the floor. She stepped out of her snow-dusted boots, leaving them on the mat beside the door.
    Dillon managed to smile and nod, his mind struggling to keep up with her. “With fresh garlic bread.” Emma’s favorite, if he remembered correctly. “Ma’s recipe. I’m afraid dinner’s not quite done yet. I underestimated the cooking time. Still has about fifteen minutes or so.”
    She shrugged out of her coat and turned to hang it on a hook beside the door. His eyes slid over her. Emma was dressed simply tonight, in black slacks and a white button-down blouse. A very conservative, almost business-like ensemble, but it suited her. The clothing skimmed her curves and made her legs look like they went on forever. The hair got him. The glorious auburn locks spilled down her back in soft waves his fingers itched to sift through.
    “Can you do that? Cook I mean. Or should I worry?” Emma turned her head, arching one fiery brow at him. Her amber eyes danced with a devilishness that made his heart pound against his ribcage. God he’d forgotten how beautiful she was when she smiled at him like that. It was a rare occurrence, but he’d gotten a few growing up.
    He returned the smile. “Come on now, you should know me better than that. You can’t live with my parents and not learn how to cook.”
    His grandmother had been born and raised in Sicily. Nana still chose to speak Italian and always had something brewing on the stove. Inspired by her, his family opened a small chain of Italian restaurants. Dillon and his older brother, Logan, helped out in the kitchen every night, from the time they were tall enough to reach the counters until they moved out. In his family, it was tradition.
    Emma laughed. It was a soft breathy sound he yearned to hear again. She picked up the car seat and moved past him. Following her into the living room, he tried his damnedest not to watch the gentle sway of her shapely rear end. It didn’t help matters any that once she reached the couch, she set the car seat on the floor and bent over it.
    He swallowed hard, trying not to stare when she unbuckled the child. Emma managed to get the baby out of the snowsuit she was bundled in, then scooped the child up into her arms and patted the baby’s back, murmuring soothingly. In a matter of moments, Emma had the child lolling to sleep on her shoulder.
    “You always did have a way with kids.”
    Watching her, long buried desires floated to the surface. He wanted the marriage and family thing once, thought he was ready to take that walk. He’d been so in love with Leila. The sun had risen and set in her eyes. Until he learned the hard way, Leila was yet another woman who saw him like a means to his bank account. These days he intended to avoid marriage altogether. He found life easier that way.
    Emma slowly turned to face him, her hips rocking from side to side.
    “Oh, babies are easy. All you have to do is love them.” She shrugged a shoulder and smiled at the baby. “You’d be surprised what you can do when you have to.”
    The odd tone of Emma’s voice made