The Playboy's Baby by JM Stewart Page B

in Dillon’s direction “—because I thought he deserved to know. I could care less what you think. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”
    She turned to Mrs. James and asked the silent question. When Mrs. James gave a small nod, Emma pivoted on her heel and stormed from the room. She trusted Dillon’s mother. She’d make sure Annie was safe until she got back. Right now, she needed air and space, and she wanted it before the tears burning behind her eyelids made their way to the surface. She would not give that old buzzard the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
    Shaking with a mixture of nerves and pent-up anger and pain, she shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her coat, and left the house. She marched across the lawn and down the driveway, the knot of pain and anger in her stomach carrying her forward.
    “Em!”
    Dillon’s voice called out when she reached the small garden at the center of the driveway, but she didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t stop. Angry tears welled and overflowed. She’d go back when she could go in there and be polite to that old stick in the mud. If she went back now, she’d declare war on that man, take Annie back, and call a lawyer. Annie and Dillon deserved better than that.
    “Em, wait.” Dillon darted in front of her, forcing her to stop. He hadn’t put on a coat, hadn’t bothered to tie his boots. Concern etched his face, shone in his eyes, and the emotions she barely held back rose in her throat.
    She glared at him, hands clenched into fists. If he came to stand up for his father, he had another think coming. “I don’t have to stand there and let him talk about my sister that way.”
    “I know. I’m sorry I asked you to come.” He cupped her face in his warm palms, his voice gentle and annoyingly soothing to her ragged nerves. “I should have come alone. I didn’t think he’d direct his anger at you.”
    “Janey is my sister. I know darn well she wasn’t perfect, but she’s my sister. She was all I had.” The quiet understanding in his eyes conspired against her, and more angry tears welled to the surface, a couple slipping before she could stop them.
    His thumbs swept across her skin, wiping away the wetness. “My father’s a hard man. He has his own ideas about the world, and he’s very set in his ways. He’s a bit over protective of his family. Doesn’t mean he’s right.”
    “You accused me of the exact same thing.” Emma shook off his touch, turned away from him, and folded her arms. That hurt more than she cared to admit. She’d expected him to be on Janey’s side. Her side. Without him, she felt entirely too alone.
    “I know I did.” The snow crunched beneath his feet when Dillon took a step, his body pressing against her back, his voice a low, husky murmur in her ear. “I’m sorry. It was a knee-jerk reaction.”
    She stiffened her spine, determined not to let him get to her. “I came back to town because Janey should have told you. You’re Annie’s father. You deserve to know. I don’t want nor have I ever needed your money.”
    Dillon apparently had made up his mind to torment her, for his hands slid onto her upper arms, and he tugged her back against him. “I know. I’m sorry. I should never have accused you of being after money.”
    The soft sentiment in his voice seeped inside and she turned to face him, needing to see his eyes before she allowed herself to trust his words. The sheer honesty in those dark orbs, the almost palpable sorrow and regret, pulled at her and the pain rose to the surface.
    “I miss her so much.” Her voice shook with the emotion she couldn’t hold back anymore.
    “I do too.” His arms closed around her, pulled her flush against him.
    Emma gave in. She laid her head against his chest and allowed herself to accept the comfort. His heart pounded a soothing rhythm beneath her ear, his body warm against her cheek. She wanted to bury her nose in his chest and fill her lungs with his scent.
    Feelings she