From Doctor...to Daddy (7 page)

Now he cracked a grin. “You
could
be.”

“That's not in my life plan.”

He turned serious now. “Just what
is
your life plan, other than becoming a resort manager someday?”

“It's not complicated. I just want to be a good mother to Emilia and help her grow into an independent young woman.”

“But what do you want for yourself?”

“I haven't had time to think about that.”

“I think you've thought about it, but you were so hurt by your last relationship you've closed off the possibility of another one.”

At his all-too-perceptive comment, Erika suddenly realized how badly she wanted to avoid this subject. For the past three years, she'd shut down desires and dreams. Dillon confused her and almost made her want to resurrect them again. But that risk was just too great.

Moving around his desk, she automatically picked up his empty coffee cup and tossed it into the waste can. “I'll be away from my desk for a little while. I'm meeting a friend in town for lunch, then taking care of last-minute ads with downtown businesses.”

After a few silent beats, he said huskily, “You're evading again.”

Turning on her heel to face him, she said, “I'm just evading for
now.
”

“All right.”

“I can bring you a sandwich from the deli before I leave.”

“I'm not hungry. If I want something later, I'll go get it.”

“You're acting like a macho male.”

He gave a shrug. “What makes you think I'm not?
You're my receptionist, Erika, not my nurse. You're not getting paid to hover.”

She knew the expression on her face gave away the hurt she felt at his words, and she knew what she had to do. Leave.

Turning away quickly so he couldn't see her expression, she said, “I'll buzz you when I'm back.”

On her way out of his office, she thought he called her name.

She just kept walking.

 

After Erika returned from her appointments in town, the late afternoon turned busy. The phone rang, with one of the guests calling in to say she thought she had the stomach flu. Erika told her to come right down. While Dillon was examining her, another guest called. He'd sprained his ankle while golfing. A newly checked-in patron had wrenched her back while pulling her suitcase. And so it went. It was just one of those days and as Dillon came to the reception area after his last appointment, he looked pale. From his furrowed brow and the lines around his eyes, Erika could tell he was in pain. She hated seeing him like this. But he'd made clear that he didn't want her help.

Ruthann had arrived so Dillon didn't linger, just left the infirmary, telling Erika he'd see her tomorrow.

He should stay in bed tomorrow and let himself heal,
she thought to herself. But Dillon obviously didn't want advice on what was good for him and what wasn't.

Erika's own work kept her tied to her computer for a while longer. Yet she couldn't take her mind off of Dillon—the way he'd looked when he left, how he'd hidden his symptoms from his patients all afternoon.

Since she was planning Frontier Days, she'd been
given a card key to take the elevator to the penthouse floor, in addition to all the other floors. Closer to the event, she'd be posting signs and erecting billboards advertising all aspects of the festival. The resort's aim wasn't only to attract tourists to Thunder Canyon and the lodge, but to encourage their guests to attend all the activities in town, supporting businesses there, encouraging guests to return the following year.

Erika thought about the card key. She could just go up to Dillon's suite and knock on his door. If he didn't answer, he was probably resting and she'd just leave again. Or maybe not. She might try to phone him from outside the suite just to make sure he was okay.

Her mother was used to her working late so a few more minutes wouldn't matter. Dillon's health was important to her, though she didn't examine all the reasons why too closely.

The plush carpeting in the hall muffled her footsteps as she approached his door. Wrought-iron sconces with their candlelight bulbs on the wall lit her way. Outside his door, she hesitated and knocked.

When she heard a muffled, “Just a minute,” from inside, she was relieved.

He opened the door and looked astonished to see her. “Erika! I was expecting room service.”

“Sorry, I'm empty-handed,” she joked.

He was wearing a gray sweatshirt and sweatpants and didn't look much better than when he'd left downstairs. “Is something wrong? Did you need something?”

“I was worried about you,” she blurted out. “You looked terrible when you left. The truth is you don't look much better right now.”

“Oh, thanks. That's great for the ego.” Amusement danced in his eyes, along with the pain he must be
feeling. “Come on in. I really do need to sit down,” he said with a loud exhale of breath.

He crossed to the living room and sank down onto the sofa.

She hurried to him and sat beside him. “You really should go to the emergency room, Dillon.”

“Let's not go over this again. As soon as room service comes, I'll eat dinner, get a shower, ice my ribs and go to sleep for the night.”

She should leave. She really should. But sitting next to him on the sofa like this, her arm lodged against his, her knee almost brushing his, she felt the urge to stay, even though she knew she couldn't.

“How long ago did you call room service?”

“Only about ten minutes. It could be a little while until they arrive if they're busy.”

Their gazes connected…held. Erika could see Dillon's beard stubble. She wanted to smooth her hand over his jaw and comfort him in some way.

“Tell me about Scott Spencerman,” he requested.

That was the last thing she'd expected him to say. “Why?”

“Because your experience with him affected your life and I'd like to understand.”

“I don't talk about Scott. He's in my past.”

“Is he? Or is he the reason you don't want to think about getting closer to me?”

Her heart ticked off a few vibrating seconds until she replied, “There are lots of reasons why I shouldn't get closer to you.”

“I know. There are a lot of reasons why
I
shouldn't get close to
you,
too. But here we are. So tell me about him.”

Sitting beside Dillon like this on his sofa felt intimate,
though Erika wasn't sure why. They were just sitting there talking, fully dressed, with no intention of doing anything else. Maybe it was the subject matter. Maybe it was Dillon's voice, gravelly and gentle and encouraging.

After taking in a deep breath, she blew it out and stared straight head. “I was young and naive,” she murmured. “After high school, I waitressed, took a couple of business courses and finally ended up in that real-estate office. I was itchy for something else, not sure what I wanted, still living with my mother. I wasn't… I didn't…” She cast Dillon a sideways glance, intending to look away again. But his gaze locked to hers.

“I didn't sleep around,” she finally said bluntly. “I dated, but not for sex. I was looking for somebody special. When I met the right person and we fell in love, then sex would mean something. Scott seemed to be everything I'd ever wanted. I wasn't experienced enough to understand he never intended to stay in Thunder Canyon. More importantly, he never intended to take me with him if he didn't. When he talked about Rome and Singapore and Cancun, I thought in the future we'd go there together as a couple…as a married couple. I didn't see the warning signs. He'd only see me on certain nights at certain times. I just figured he had calls to make and business to take care of. It wasn't until afterward I found out he was also dating someone in Bozeman. Everyone gossiped about me, but no one told me the truth.”

Dillon took her hand in his. “Would you have wanted to see the truth? Would you have listened?”

No one had ever asked her that question. She gave it a long moment of thought. “Maybe not. But when I became pregnant and Scott told me he never wanted to get serious, that he wasn't just dating
me,
that he'd be
leaving soon, I didn't see it coming. I was so foolish,” she said shaking her head.

“You were young without much experience with men.”

“I was stupid. But Emilia is the wonderful result. She's helped me grow up and I love her to pieces. Now I'm just grateful I have her and I try to forget the rest.”

“How often do you hear from him?”

“Never. He's not in our lives. When he left, he made it clear he wanted nothing else to do with me, or a baby.”

“He doesn't pay child support?”

“When I was out of work after Emilia's delivery, I considered trying to find him. But if he paid child support, I'm afraid he'd want something in return. If he doesn't care about his daughter, I don't want him anywhere near her. I'll raise her on my own.”

“Does he know he has a daughter?”

“No. But if she wants to search for him one day, I'll help her. For now, it's just the two of us and that's okay. We've got a good life.”

“I can't imagine a man wanting nothing to do with his child,” Dillon murmured.

“That's because you're a different kind of man,” Erika said, part of her knowing it, part of her afraid to believe it. That pained expression was back in Dillon's eyes…as if he didn't agree with her assessment. But he lifted their hands, studied their entwined fingers and leaned a little closer to her.

She lifted her chin, anticipating his kiss, ready to feel his arms around her again.

He enfolded her in his arms, began a heart-tripping kiss, but then pulled away. “You've had a raw deal once
and I don't want that to happen again. In a few weeks, I'll be leaving. We both need to remember that.”

The problem was she still wanted him to kiss her, even though she knew he'd be leaving. Was she willing to risk falling in love with Dillon Traub—and having her heart broken all over again if she did?

F
ifteen minutes later, Erika paced Dillon's living room. She'd agreed to stay until he was finished in the shower. What if the pain in his ribs suddenly got worse?

Dillon had left his cell phone on the occasional table next to the sofa. Just as she heard the shower turn off in the bathroom, his phone chimed. Crossing to it, she picked it up and saw Dr. Babchek's number in the caller ID.

Hurrying to Dillon's bedroom, she peeked inside the open door. Apparently Dillon was still in the bathroom. “Dr. Babchek's on your cell,” she called. “Should I answer?”

The bathroom door opened a crack. “Yes. Thanks. I'll be out in two minutes.”

She opened the phone and greeted the caller, just as she would if she were sitting outside Dillon's office. “Good evening, Dr. Babchek. This is Erika Rodriguez,
Dr. Traub's receptionist. Can you hold for about two minutes?”

“I can hold,” Dr. Babchek told her in a deep voice that wasn't the least bit impatient.

Erika retreated to the hall outside of Dillon's bedroom. It didn't seem right to be inside.

When he finally emerged, her breath caught. His hair was still damp from his shower and looked tousled, as though he'd run a towel over it. He was wearing black jogging shorts but there were still beads of water in his chest hair and on his very muscled upper arms. He might as well have been naked the way her heart was racing.

When his gaze landed on her, she blushed and handed him the phone. Although she'd been overwhelmed by the virility emanating from Dillon, she'd still caught sight of the bruising on his left side, which looked bad even to her untrained eye.

She walked beside him into the living room as he said into his phone, “Ron. It's good to talk to you again. I wondered if you could cover for me tomorrow morning at the resort. I have an appointment at Thunder Canyon General Hospital.”

The doctor must have answered him in the affirmative because Dillon stopped before heading into the living room and nodded. “That's great. I'll let Ruthann know you'll be there until noon.”

When Dillon closed his phone, Erika couldn't help but ask, “Are you getting checked out at the hospital?”

He shook his head. “You worry too much. No, this is business. I have an appointment with the Chief of Staff.”

She supposed it wasn't unusual for doctors to consult with each other and she had no right to delve into Dillon's business.

“If you didn't have to get home to Emilia, I'd ask you to have dinner with me tonight,” he said casually.

Her gaze lingered on his eyes and then his lips and then his upper body. She swallowed hard. “I do have to get home.”

When he set his hands on her shoulders, her stomach somersaulted. He asked, “Why did you come up to my suite tonight?”

She licked suddenly dry lips. “I told you I was worried about you.”

Silence wound about them, intensifying pheromones, need and awareness. Whatever bond they were forming drew them closer together. Erika breathed in Dillon's freshly showered scent, longed to feel his skin against hers.

When Dillon wrapped his arms around her, she wound hers around his neck. His body was hard against hers. His mouth took its time with her as he nibbled at her upper lip and lined it with his tongue. She touched his upper lip with hers, thinking that would be the tinder that burst their kiss into flame. But he apparently had more self-control than she did because his lips trailed kisses across her cheek and down her neck. She moaned, feeling weightless in his arms.

Every thought skittered away into pure physical sensation. Then his hands were in her hair, his lips sealed to hers, and the taut pressure gave way to erotic invasion. His kiss seemed to go on forever. She responded to every thrust of his tongue, playing a game of tease and retreat. She felt the shudder that ran through his body and knew they were both dabbling with desire that could explode and hurt them both. Still she couldn't seem to get enough and neither could he. If his ribs were bothering him, desire must have overridden any discomfort he felt.

The kiss might have urged them to his couch. They might have ended up in his bedroom. But she'd never know because there was a knock at his door.

They both froze.

Dillon pulled away from her just a few inches, called, “Just a minute,” and kept her in his embrace.

She had to find her composure and quickly. This had been a test and she'd failed it miserably. If that knock hadn't sounded on the door—

She backed away from Dillon…a good foot away. With a deep breath, she let her gaze trail down his upper body again, and it settled on his bruises. She brushed them lightly with the back of her hand, and he winced, obviously in greater pain than he was willing to admit. “While you're at the hospital tomorrow, please get this checked out.”

She felt his hot gaze on her as she crossed to the table and picked up her purse. Then she went to the door and opened it, welcoming the waiter and Dillon's supper…escaping back to a life that was safe.

 

The following evening, Dillon walked up to Erika's house and pressed her doorbell. Today he had been suddenly aware of time ticking away. He was dissatisfied with allowing his career to become his life. Considering the past few years, he was downright fatigued by beating himself up about his failed marriage…about the god-complex he and other doctors had that they could cure a child in spite of the odds. He also realized he needed to remember Toby
well
—not sick—and the good times they'd experienced, rather than all the moments he'd missed.

He'd spent the morning at the hospital, thinking about his future, discussing options with the Chief of Staff
who understood the needs of Thunder Canyon residents. By the time he'd returned to his office, Erika had gone for the afternoon, working to finalize events for Frontier Days. He'd missed her. He didn't know what this feeling of connection to her was, but he needed to pursue it.

So here he was, standing at her front door, rationalizing why he'd come, why he was carrying a present for her daughter.

Before he'd left the resort, he'd been steeped in decisions about what came after September. Should he accept the offer to join the concierge practice in Texas? Should he stay near his family? Should he make a move and maybe find a new life in Montana? He was grateful he had choices, but the choice right now didn't seem clear. This evening, getting away from the resort and his suite had just seemed like a good idea.

The chime from Erika's doorbell echoed inside. He felt a rush of adrenaline when she answered the door wearing a thigh-length red sweater and black leggings. Her mass of loose waves tumbled around her shoulders and all Dillon wanted to do was run his fingers through them.

Her brown eyes were huge with questions. “This is a surprise.”

Her gaze ran over his black sweater and khakis, and he liked the fact that she looked at him the way he looked at her. “I should have called.”

“But you didn't.”

She was the kind of woman who wouldn't let him get away with anything. “If I had called, you could have easily given me an excuse not to see me. Are you busy?”

As if on cue, Emilia's voice came from inside. “Mommy, pway.”

“I'm a mom,” she reminded him. “I'm always busy.
But I've fed Emilia supper and this is our winding-down time. Come on in. How are your ribs?”

“They're better. Nothing is broken.” He'd had them x-rayed while he was at the hospital.

“Did you have supper?”

“Yes. Sue dropped off some of her soup and homemade bread.”

“She's a good cook.”

Whereas Erika's living room had been straightened up the last time he was here, now it had a different look because it had been a two-year-old's play area for the past couple of hours. Sofa cushions stood cockeyed against the furniture with a blanket draped over the top. Stuffed animals, dolls and doll clothes lay scattered across the rug. Children's books covered the top of the coffee table, while a coloring book and crayons were left abandoned on the easy chair. The whole atmosphere gave his heart a pang that was warning him he'd made a mistake by coming.

Erika scooped up a few toys and cut him a sideways glance. “Be careful not to trip over anything.”

Emilia was on her hands and knees peeking out of her hideaway at him.

“Hi, there,” he said, crouching down. “Remember me?”

She grinned and crawled out a little farther. “Doctor, doctor.”

“She remembers,” he murmured, stunned by the wonderful-terrible recall of a child. Toby had been like that, too—quick to remember, quick to make friends.

“She remembers what she wants to remember, so you must have made an impression,” Erika joked.

“That could be good or bad,” he said drily. “Come
here, Emilia, I have something for you.” He wiggled the box.

Emilia scrambled out from under the cushions and blanket, pushed herself to her feet and ran over to him. One of her little overall straps was falling over her shoulder. She bumped against Dillon's knees, holding on to them to balance herself.

He pushed her shoulder strap up where it belonged on top of the little white blouse covered with dancing dogs. “Would you like to open this?”

He set the box on the floor because it was too big for her to handle. Emilia squatted down beside it.

Erika said, “What do you say, baby?”

“Tank you,” Emilia told Dillon with a little smile.

“You're very welcome. I hope you like it.”

Dillon helped Emilia with the package, which pictured a busy box with lights and music on the box.

“I already put the batteries in,” he told Erika.

“You've thought of everything.” Her eyes were full of questions, questions he didn't know if he could answer.

After Dillon helped Emilia open the box and extract the toy, he pressed one of the buttons. A tiger popped up, music played and a blue light flashed.

“Oh, she's going to love this,” Erika murmured. “Lights and music fascinate her right now.” She dropped to the floor beside her daughter and sat cross-legged, grinning as Emilia pushed the next button and an elephant popped up with a green light flashing.

Emilia giggled. Pointing to the elephant, she said, “Dumbo.”

“That's the elephant in one of her books,” Erika explained, with a mother's pride that her daughter was learning.

As Dillon watched mother and daughter, as he joined in laughing with them, seeing Emilia learn, his heart burned with remembered warmth. The feeling was bittersweet. Pictures of hugging Toby, reading to him and kissing him good-night played across a screen in his mind. Then it was swiftly followed by a feeling of powerlessness because he hadn't been able to keep his son from slipping away.

Suddenly Emilia stopped playing with the toy. She climbed to her feet, ran to Dillon and held her little arms up to him. “Huggy, huggy,” she said as if he should know what that meant.

Dillon sought Erika's gaze for translation.

“She wants a hug, and she wants to hug you.”

With a lump in his throat, Dillon wrapped his arms around Emilia and, ignoring the pain in his side, lifted her onto his lap. He gave her a hug and she hugged him back, burying her face in his sweater.

He ran his hand over her wavy hair, feeling his throat tighten.

“I think she's getting sleepy.” Erika's voice was low and husky and he wondered what she was thinking. But she didn't tell him as she gathered Emilia from his arms. “Come on, honey.”

But Emilia began fussing and pointing to the toy Dillon had given her.

“All right. We can take it to your room. But you can't have it in bed with you.”

“I'll bring it,” Dillon said.

Erika's gaze sought his. “This could take a little while. Sometimes the last thing she wants to do is go to sleep.”

“D.J.'s wife, Allaire, told me the same thing about their little boy.”

“You said he's two, right?” Erika asked as they climbed the staircase to Emilia's room.

“Yes. A couple of months older than Emilia.”

“And your cousin Dax has children, too?”

“His wife, Shandie, had a little girl when they married, but Dax is as bonded to her as he is to his son.”

Emilia was babbling now to herself and Erika kissed her little girl's cheek.

Dillon felt a band of painful longing tighten around his heart.

Emilia's room was painted yellow. There were cutouts of Winnie the Pooh, Tigger and Eeyore on the walls. Dillon felt as if he had no right to be part of this nightly ritual, but the urge to watch mother and daughter was strong and he leaned against the doorway.

Erika was totally caught up in changing Emilia…and slipping her little nightshirt decorated with lollipops over her head. All the while, she spoke to her. “Soon we'll have to find you some pj's with footsies.”

“She'll probably enjoy the snow this year,” Dillon offered, suddenly needing to be part of the conversation, not wanting to feel like an outsider.

Erika tossed a look over her shoulder as she sat Emilia on the changing table, holding onto her at her waist. “She'll be fascinated by it,” Erika agreed. “And I can't wait for the holidays. She'll be able to dip her hands in the cookie dough, notice the angel on top of the tree and maybe understand a little of the magic of the season.”

“You still find it magical?”

Erika nodded, then added, “And holy.”

The true meaning of Christmas had fallen by the wayside for Dillon. Since Toby had died and Megan had left, all the holiday meant was a dinner with his
mother and Peter and his brothers and sister. But suddenly, standing here with Erika and her little girl, he saw even
that
dinner in a different light. A family was bigger than the sum of its individual parts, much bigger. Maybe his resentful feelings about Peter had been one more element that had marred his marriage and his feelings about his family for too many years.