I Love How You Love Me

“I know exactly how he feels,” Dylan said as Mason nuzzled his head closer against his shoulder and closed his eyes. He looked up from her son, his gaze quickly shifting from affection for the baby to heat for her. “It’s been a good night, hasn’t it?”

“It has.” She made herself pick up her fork and twirl spaghetti onto it even though she didn’t think she’d be able to eat much with Dylan so close…and so male. “It’s nice having a friend to spend time with.”

She half-expected him to point out that by now they had clearly transitioned from just friends. But Dylan, she was learning, rarely did what people expected him to. So after telling her that her spaghetti dinner might very well rival his Aunt Mary’s, he said, “Tell me about your folks.”

She couldn’t stop the rush of anguish. “They’re both gone.”

He put his fork down and reached across the table to cover her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I am, too.” The warmth, the strength of his hand over hers helped to ground her. “My mother got sick with lung cancer when I was in elementary school. She had never smoked, but her father had been a heavy smoker during her childhood. My father and I, we were both devastated, but he never missed a beat. He was there for me every single second. We had always been close, but we became an even tighter unit after my mom died.” She turned her hand palm up so that she could grip Dylan’s. “Two years ago, he was coming home from a baseball game when someone who had been drinking heavily at the same game drove through a red light. The paramedics said he died instantly, that he probably felt no pain.” But she had. Pain that could still spear her from out of the blue. “I miss him every day, so much, just the way I still miss my mom. But never more than when Mason does something new, like his first smile, or when he started to crawl. My father, my mother—they will never get to see those things. And Mason will never get to know his grandparents.”

She didn’t know when Dylan moved close enough to pull her against him so that the baby was leaning against one broad shoulder and she was in the crook of the other.

“They raised one hell of a woman, Grace. And you’re doing just as great a job with Mason.”

“He looks like my father. The same eyes. The same silly grin.”

Mason blinked bleary eyes open and reached for her then, and she knew she was going to pay the next morning for keeping him up so far past his bedtime, but she hadn’t wanted the evening with Dylan to end, either. Not when it truly had been a perfect night.

So perfect that she didn’t think she could live with herself if she didn’t explain precisely why she was so intent on them being “just friends” after a kiss that had proved they could be so much more.

“I know we’ve only just started to eat, but I need to put Mason to bed. But, please, stay and finish dinner. And if you wouldn’t mind staying a little longer, I’d like to answer the question you asked me last night.”

“Of course I’ll wait, Grace. As long as you need me to.” He gave Mason a kiss on the forehead. “Good night, little guy. Sweet dreams.”

Mason’s eyes fluttered open again, and when he puckered up his lips to give Dylan a good-night kiss—something he’d only ever given her before tonight—Grace’s heart flip-flopped inside her chest.

From the look on Dylan’s face, she knew his had, too.

CHAPTER TEN

Regardless of how difficult or crazy a day Grace might have had, Mason’s bedtime ritual always settled her down. Tonight, however, she had a feeling nothing was going to stop the flutters in her belly. Because even though she was about to tell Dylan about her past so that he’d understand why she couldn’t date him, it didn’t change the fact that she was still going to be alone in her living room with the sexiest man alive.

She resisted the urge to fix her hair or makeup before going back out to see him, just as she hadn’t allowed herself to stress over her outfit. Jeans and a T-shirt had been perfect for a visit to the aquarium, and they would still be perfect for an honest discussion between friends.

She was surprised to find that Dylan had cleaned up the dining room and kitchen. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’ve met my mother, so you should know that no Sullivan ever shirks on cleanup. Are you sure you don’t want me to heat yours back up?”

She shook her head, but picked up her glass of wine before going to sit on the couch. As soon as he sat beside her, she said, “Last night, you asked me why I didn’t want to date you. I know it sounds like a cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I met Mason’s—” She shook her head, unable to use the word father. Not when Richard had never been, not for one single second. “I was researching a story about charitable foundations. He is one of the leading experts in family-run charities because he comes from an influential Washington family with legacy money.” The irony still killed her that the family everyone thought was so good, so charitable, had been anything but when they’d learned she was pregnant. “I thought that just because he spent his days giving away money, it meant he was a good person, too. So even though I know how to do really good background research on people, I let the fact that he worked for an organization that helps people in need take the place of actually looking deeper.” She wasn’t proud of it, but she needed Dylan to know something else. “He was so good at sweeping me off my feet, taking me on his private plane and to rooftop dinners just for the two of us that after things ended with him, I swore I wouldn’t let that happen to me again—falling for a pretty face and slick words just because I might be feeling lonely.”