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allowed her to think more objectively, she mused. Or maybe she'd just finally been able to see past
Dillon's gruff exterior. Thinking back to the day he had taken care of her when she'd been sick, Emily
smiled. Or perhaps the real catalyst for change had been something as simple as a bowl of red gelatin left
in her refrigerator.
Whatever the reason, somewhere along the way she began to see him in a different light not as an
adversary, or an annoyance, or even a brother-in-law, but as a man. A caring, thoughtful, dependable
man.
Of course, not everything had changed. Dillon still made her uncomfortable and edgy, and his raw
masculinity still overwhelmed her, but at least she no longer had the urge to turn and flee whenever he
was near. Nor did the mere sight of him rub her the wrong way.
On the contrary, it wasn't Emily's temper that Dillon ignited these days, but something else altogether. To
her horror and chagrin, since he had become her Lamaze coach she found herself, not merely conscious
of him as a man, but actually attracted to him physically.
Emily blamed it on her pregnancy. She had read that in the last trimester some women experienced
heightened sexual desire. She supposed, when you considered that she'd been alone for seven months, it
wasn't so surprising that her hormones were running amok, but of all the men in the world, why did it
have to be Dillon who got her all hot and bothered?
She had only to catch sight of him moving through the construction site or huddled in a discussion with a
group of workers, for her brain to short-circuit and her libido to take over. One glimpse and she stopped
whatever she was doing and stared like a besotted teenager. As she was doing at that very moment, she
realized.
Annoyed with herself, she jerked her gaze away from Dillon's receding form, crammed the last folder
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into the cabinet and slammed the drawer shut.
"Something wrong?" Gert asked,looking up from her work as Emily waddled back to her desk.
"No. I just hate filing, that's all."
"Humph. Can't say as I blame you," the other woman muttered, and went back to entering data on the
computer.
Emily sat down at her desk and picked up the pile of invoices that had accumulated since that morning
and started sorting them. That she was experiencing this inappropriate attraction was awful enough, but
even more humiliating, it was completely one-sided.
Granted, Dillon seemed more relaxed around her now, and certainly he was more pleasant and friendly.
They were more at ease with each other and talked more comfortably together, and occasionally he even
laughed with her.
As her pregnancy progressed and she grew bigger and bigger he seemed mesmerized by the changes in
her body. In his gruff way he showered her with all the attention and caring that any woman could hope
for, even from a husband attention she knew in her heart that she would not have received from Keith.
However, that was as far as he went. Never, not once, not by so much as a look, did he give any
indication that he was interested in her as anything but a friend.
And that made her feel like a complete idiot.
Emily sighed. Ah, well. No matter how much she chastised herself, it did not help. There was just
something so earthy and appealing about Dillon whether he wore his usual heavy work boots, jeans
and casual shirt or a designer suit that she could not ignore.
In his work clothes he was the epitome of rugged masculine appeal six foot four inches of lean-hipped,
broad-shouldered brawn and brains that never failed to make her insides flutter. On those days when he
came directly from the main office looking as though he'd just stepped out ofGQ , his impact was equally
lethal.
Realizing where her thoughts had once again strayed, Emily groaned softly and ground her teeth. Dear
Lord, she was hopeless.
* * *
He was pathetic, Dillon thought. A pathetic coward. He should tell Emily the truth now, before the
baby arrived. It was the right thing to do. The honorable thing.
Deep in thought, he headed back to the office, his long stride eating up the ground. On his way he
passed a number of his crew, jovially calling out farewells and bawdy jeers to one another as they
headed for their cars. It was Friday, payday and quitting time, and they were looking forward to the
weekend. Eric and a few others called out to Dillon, as well, but the somber look on his face made them
do a double take and give him a wide berth.
Dillon was so preoccupied he didn't notice.
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The trouble was, after all these years, Emily was finally beginning to trust him, even to like him a little.
These past weeks, spending so much time in each other's company, doing ordinary, everyday things
together, had been wonderful. He sure as hell didn't want to ruin that, especially not now, when they
were developing a tentative friendship of sorts.
"Yeah, but the trouble is, you're cultivating that friendship under false pretenses," he muttered to himself.
"And you might as well face it,Maguire, the guilt is eating you alive."
He had to set the record straight. He knew that. It was only right. Emily deserved to know the truth. But
damn, how he dreaded doing it.
Dillon spat out a shocking curse and aimed a vicious kick at a crushed soft drink can that someone had
tossed on the ground, sending it sailing.
All right, dammit. He'd tell her tonight, he vowed as he neared the office trailer. He'd take her out to
dinner. Afterwards, when she was feeling relaxed and mellow, he'd tell her.
She was going to be upset. He had no doubt about that. Upset, hell. She'd probably hate him. And who
could blame her. He'd helped Keith deceive her. Then he'd lied to her by keeping quiet about the
deception. That made him just as guilty.
Dillon ground his teeth. So be it. If he had to go back to square one with her, then that's what he'd do.
But one way or another, even if it took another seven years, he would eventually make things right
between them somehow.
Outside the office he paused and drew a deep breath, then, hisface set with grim determination, he
jerked open the door and stepped inside.
Emily looked up and smiled. "You're back. And right on time, too."
"Yeah. You ready?"
"Just a sec." She cleared her desk and covered her computer, then got her purse out of the bottom
drawer and stood. "All set. Good night, Gert. Have a nice weekend," she called. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]