The Playboy's Baby Read Online Free PDF Page A

his stomach knot. She had a similar one right before she dropped the news about Janey. At that thought, his stomach sank. Pain washed through him.
    He still couldn’t believe Janey was dead. He’d never get another chance to make things right between them. Never get to hear her laugh or see her smile or even to see that wickedness dance in her eyes when she was up to no good.
    “God, I’m going to miss her.” The words left his mouth before he realized he’d spoken them out loud. He lifted his gaze to Emma. She stared at the floor, both arms now wrapped tightly around the baby, like the child provided a lifeline. “How are you holding up?"
    Emma turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears, but offered a brave smile.
    “I’m a survivor. It’s what I do. Besides, I have her now.” With a wistful smile, she laid her head against the baby’s. “She keeps me on this side of sanity.”
    That was definitely the Emma he grew up with. She was one of the strongest women he knew, and completely selfless. In fact, he couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t taking care of someone. The question was who took care of Emma ?
    “So.” Dillon stepped forward and eyed the sleepy baby. “What’s her name?”
    “This,” Emma beamed like a proud mother hen, “is Annabelle. Annabelle Amelia Stanton.”
    “After your mother.”
    She gave him a soft, wistful smile. “Yeah. Janey used to call her Bellie, because she has a nice round belly to match those cheeks of hers.” She laughed softly, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. “I call her Annie.”
    “She looks like you.” She had a full head of the thick red hair all the Stanton women had. Emma’s was more of an auburn, a deep reddish brown. Janey’s was strawberry blond. Annie was in the middle, with a wild blazing red ’do that stuck straight out from her head.
    Emma’s gaze snapped to his. Something he couldn’t identify flashed in her eyes, but she lowered her gaze again and shook her head.
    “I think Annie looks like Janey when she was a baby, but Janey used to say she looked like her father.” She looked at him and pinned him with an odd, penetrating stare. “The older she gets, the more I’m inclined to agree. She has his eyes, I think. Nose too.”
    “So if you’re not married, where exactly is her father?”
    Emma stared at him a moment, a blank expression on her face. “You didn’t read the letter.”
    It wasn’t a question.
    “No. The club got kind of crazy. I got sidetracked.” Dillon shrugged and tried to find something, anything, else to look at but Emma’s amber eyes. Their magnetic pull called to him and demanded he answer the way they always had growing up. With a sigh, he let his shoulders slump and gave in. “I couldn’t do it.”
    Call him a coward, but he hadn’t been able to make himself read what had likely been some of Janey’s last words. He ducked his head and dragged his hands through his hair, compelled to be honest by something that scared the hell out of him.
    “Something went wrong between us. I should have done something to fix it while I had the chance. I should have pushed. Now she’s gone and I’ll never get another chance.” The very thought had a heap of guilt rising to the surface, waiting to suffocate him.
    Emma’s expression softened, understanding pooling in her soft amber eyes that somehow soothed the pain in his chest.
    She nodded. “Guilt’s a killer, isn’t it? Going through Janey’s things hasn’t been easy for me either, but you should have read the letter. It would have explained a lot.” She closed her eyes, her chest rising then falling and drew in a deep breath, blowing it out. “Then this wouldn’t be so hard.”
    He frowned and shook his head. “You’re talking in circles and I’m afraid I’m not following.”
    She heaved a shaky sigh, opened her eyes and slowly turned to look at him. “Annie’s not mine.”
    He frowned. “I don’t understand. Then whose is she?”
    Emma