to give of themselves. We’re hoping to shine a light on Children’s West Hospital today. Visit their website to see how you can help these brave children. Thank you.”
With that, Dylan ushered Emma into the limo and it sped off before she could get her seat belt on.
“Whoa,” he said, and for the first time today, she glimpsed beads of sweat on his brow.
“Dylan, are you okay?”
He sank down, shrugged into his seat belt and tossed his head against the headrest. “I’ve been better.”
“Dizzy spell?” She clamped her own seat belt on.
“Nope, it’s just a little bit...crazy, isn’t it? I’m not feeling myself just yet.”
“That’s understandable, Dylan. You’ve been through a lot. But you handled them like a pro.”
He turned to her, shaking his head. “Maybe I should’ve kept you out of it. Your picture might just make the front page of some of those rags.”
“I did hear several questions shouted about the redhead.” A giggle sounding more like a hiccup escaped her mouth. She’d lived in Los Angeles long enough to know how desperate the paparazzi could be. “I noticed you ignored those.”
“Think they’d believe me if I said you were a friend of the family? Not on your life. Let ’em guess.”
“Yeah, let them guess.” Bet they’d never guess she’d been the one-night stand Dylan McKay had no memory of. Now, that was a story for the tabloids.
“Thank you for coming with me today. It made a difference having you here.”
She was his surrogate sister. She didn’t mind. Not today. “You know, I’m glad I came, too, and if I helped you in the process, that’s a bonus.”
“You did.” Dylan leaned over, gave her a sweet kiss that seemed to linger on her lips, then retreated to his seat and closed his eyes. “Thanks.”
She was pretty sure surrogate sisters didn’t get kisses like that.
In fact, she didn’t remember much about his kisses at all.
And that stumped her. A man like Dylan...well, a girl shouldn’t forget something like that, drunk on mojitos and in a blackout or not.
* * *
The Montalvo party went off without a hitch, except for one boisterous guest who’d gotten smashed on martinis and fallen off the top tier of the multilevel grounds. Luckily for him, it was only a five-foot drop and he’d fallen on a shelf of border boxwoods that pinched like the dickens but broke his fall and prevented major damage. After causing a momentary ruckus, the man sobered up real fast, skulked off like a pup with his tail between his legs, and the party picked up again from there.
Emma was proud of the display they’d put on for the fifties party and their company was hired on the spot by a theatre producer in attendance to host a similar event. It had been a win-win night.
She’d worked her butt off these past few weeks. Brooke had her head in the clouds after her date with Royce and they’d seen each other three times since. Emma didn’t mind picking up the slack, except that she’d been extremely tired and with her resistance down she managed to catch Brooke’s cold. Now both of them weren’t feeling well. But while Brooke had only sniffles and sneezes, Emma had an upset stomach, as well. She couldn’t look at food for days and even now the thought of eating anything but a piece of fruit made her tummy grumble. And the big golf tournament event was in just four days.
“Emma, get your ducks in a row,” she muttered. She lay on her bed praying for strength. A commercial for a big sloppy hamburger came on the television screen and she didn’t turn her head away in time. “Oh, God.” Her stomach soured instantly and her legs tangled in the sheets as she fumbled from bed and raced to the bathroom. She landed on her knees and made it to the toilet just as her stomach contracted.
Wonderful...just wonderful. After she flushed the toilet she sat back on her knees. The little energy she’d had this morning had seeped out of her. But the flu bug would not get her down. She wouldn’t miss their big charity event coming up. She grasped the bathroom counter for support and lifted herself up. Her head spun for a second, until finally her eyes focused and she mustered every ounce of strength to stay upright.
“Okay, Emma,” she whispered. “You can do this.”
Carefully, she stepped away from the sink. The merry-go-round in her head was gone. Thank you, Flu Gods. But just a second later gripping pain attacked her stomach. “Oh.” She held her belly and flew toward the toilet again. Sinking down onto the floor, she emptied everything into the porcelain bowl, until there was nothing left.
An hour later, after managing to climb her way back into bed, her body shaking, her bones weak, she clutched her cell and pushed Brooke’s number. “Hi,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong?”
Brooke knew her so well.
“I’m down, Brooke. Can’t make it out of bed right now. The flu.”
“Oh, Em. I’m so sorry. I got you sick and now you’re getting the brunt of it. You sound terrible.”
“My stomach’s finally eased off, but it wasn’t pretty an hour ago. I’m so...tired. I’m gonna try to make it into the office later today.”
“No, you’re not. You need to stay in bed all day and rest. I’ve got things handled here. You know we’ve been right on schedule with this charity event. I just have a few last-minute things to take care of. You rest up and get better so you can make it on Friday.”
“Okay, I think you’re right.”
“Sleep. It’s the best thing for you.”
“Thanks, and, Brooke, no way am I missing this weekend.”
“I’ll come over later and bring you some soup.”
“Ugh, no. Just the thought of food right now turns my stomach.”
“All right. I’ll call you later.”
When the call ended, Emma turned her head into her pillow, closed her eyes and slept the entire day. She woke up bathed in a stream of dim light coming from the night-light on the opposite wall. She blinked herself awake. Outside, darkness had descended, but she was safe, protected. Since the night of the blackout, she kept night-lights on day and night in her apartment to keep from ever being alone in total darkness. She also now had an entire bedroom shelf devoted to pillar candles, scented and unscented. It didn’t matter, as long as they did the trick. She took them with her when she traveled, too, just in case, and had also started carrying a mini flashlight in her purse. Not that she couldn’t use her cell phone—someone had turned her onto a flashlight app, which came in handy—but cell phone batteries died on occasion and she couldn’t chance it.
A look at her cell phone now revealed that it was seven twenty-five. Wow, she’d slept for nine hours. Funny, but she didn’t feel rested at all. Or hungry. Just the thought of food made her queasy all over again.
Brooke
