The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      THE FOLLOWING WEEK, Emmy had a phone call that left her shrieking and dancing round the house. She called her mother, and then Dylan.

      ‘Sorry to ring you at work,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t wait to tell you—the magazine just rang. They loved my designs and they’re going to run the feature with me in it. Apparently what swayed them was the seahorse—which was your suggestion, so it’s all thanks to you.’

      ‘No worries,’ he said, sounding pleased for her. ‘But it was just a suggestion. You’re the one who did all the hard work.’

      ‘I’m going to stand you a decent meal to say thank you.’ She laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not cooking it myself, so you’re in no danger of getting rubbery monkfish again. Mum says she can babysit Ty on Friday or Saturday, whichever suits you best.’

      ‘Emmy, you don’t need to take me out.’

      ‘Yes, I do. You more than earned it, taking over all my duties and giving me the time to work, so don’t argue. We’ll sort out the time when you get home tonight, and I’ll book somewhere.’ She paused. ‘One last thing. They want to take a few shots of me here, at my workbench. Um, this afternoon. Do you have a problem with that?’

      ‘No, it’s fine. Do you need me back early to look after Tyler?’

      ‘Hopefully the photographer will be here while Tyler’s taking a nap. Or, if he wakes, it won’t matter if he’s in the shots. If that’s OK with you, that is.’

      ‘It’s fine,’ he said again. ‘I’ll see you later.’

      * * *

      The journalist arrived while Tyler was still awake, so Emmy made her a coffee and played with the baby while she answered questions, hoping that she didn’t come across as too flaky or too distracted. And Tyler decided to forego his nap, so when the photographer arrived—two hours later than they’d arranged—he ended up being in the shots.

      They were halfway through the photo shoot when Dylan arrived.

      ‘Sorry—am I in the way?’ he asked, coming in to Emmy’s workroom.

      ‘No—we’re running late,’ Emmy said.

      Tyler held out his hands to Dylan, who smiled and scooped him into his arms, then kissed him roundly. ‘Hello, trouble. Aren’t you supposed to be having a nap right now?’ he asked.

      The baby gurgled and clapped his hands.

      ‘Come on. Let’s give Emmy some peace and quiet.’ He glanced over at Emmy, the journalist and the photographer. ‘I’m about to put the kettle on. Coffee?’

      ‘Thanks, that’d be great,’ Emmy said gratefully. ‘Oh, sorry, I haven’t introduced you. Dylan, this is Mike and Flo from the magazine. Flo, Mike, this is Dylan Harper.’

      ‘Nice to meet you,’ Dylan said. ‘Milk or sugar?’

      ‘Just milk for me,’ Flo said.

      ‘Black, two sugars,’ Mike said.

      ‘Back in a tick,’ Dylan said, winked at Emmy, and whisked Tyler out of the workroom.

      ‘Wow, he’s gorgeous and domesticated. The perfect man,’ Flo said wistfully.

      Just what Emmy was starting to think, though wild horses wouldn’t make her admit it, especially if there was a danger of Dylan overhearing her. ‘He has his moments,’ she said gruffly.

      ‘You’re just so lucky. This house, that cute baby, and that gorgeous man. And you’re talented as well. If you weren’t so nice, I’d have to hate you,’ Flo said.

      ‘Hang on—you’ve got the wrong end of the stick. Ty’s not ours. Well, he is ours,’ Emmy said, ‘but we’re not his parents.’

      ‘Adopted? That’s lovely.’

      ‘We’re his guardians. We were his parents’ best friends.’ Emmy explained the situation with Ally and Pete as succinctly as she could. ‘Dylan and I just share a house and Ty’s care.’

      Flo raised an eyebrow. ‘Just housemates—with the way you two look at each other? Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’

      Oh, help. Emmy didn’t dare ask Flo to expand on that. Obviously she thought Dylan looked at her as if he were in love with her—which Emmy knew wasn’t the case. But she really hoped that she didn’t look at him as if she were mooning over him. Because she wasn’t. Was she? ‘We’re just...’ Her voice faded.

      ‘Good friends?’ Flo asked.

      No. They weren’t. Though they were on the way to becoming friends. There was a real easiness between them nowadays. ‘Something like that,’ Emmy said carefully.

      ‘Gotcha.’ Flo tapped her nose. ‘So what does he do?’

      ‘He’s—well, I guess you’d call him a computer superguru,’ Emmy said.

      Flo scribbled something on her notepad. ‘Clever as well as easy on the eye. Nice.’

      ‘Mmm.’ Emmy wriggled uncomfortably, and was relieved when the photographer asked her to СКАЧАТЬ