Free One Christmas Wish by Sara Richardson Page B

be married.
    “It’s nice,” he commented casually.
    Without a response, she continued to look around as if she thought the place might be haunted: eyes wide, mouth pulled into a grim frown instead of the smile that made her face shine.
    “Relax.” God, did he really scare her that much? “I’ll sleep on the couch.” Though she obviously would prefer it if he camped out on the porch. Normally, he was a gentleman; he’d give a woman what she wanted, including space, if she asked. But not when there was a damn blizzard outside.
    “Okay. Right. The couch.” Julia gave the wheels of her chair a good jerk and faced him. “That’s a good plan.” Her face had hardened back into a mask of control. She wanted to call the shots.
    Some things never changed.
    “We can’t mess this up. They have to believe we’re married or I won’t get the dog,” she reminded him.
    “Why do you want the dog so bad, anyway?” As far as he knew, she’d never been a huge pet person. Gracie Hunter Noble wouldn’t allow any animals inside their house, which was why they’d had a barn. But her mother had always kept Julia so busy with “appropriate activities for a debutante” that she’d never spent any time in the barn. He knew that for a solid fact.
    “I’ve always wanted a dog,” she insisted coldly. “Besides, this dog is special. He’s trained.” She shot him a glare. “He’ll be able to help with simple things that aren’t easy for me to do by myself.”
    He almost laughed again. Hell, you coulda fooled him. Julia Noble seemed able to do just about anything all on her own. She sure seemed to want things that way. But he also knew Ben wouldn’t allow it. “Don’t you have an assistant?” Far as he knew, Ben had hired the best help for Julia.
    “Of course,” she snapped, that control slipping again. “But I don’t need someone babysitting me all the time. Do you have any idea how old that gets?”
    “No.” He couldn’t imagine the frustration of relying on someone else all of the time, of having some stranger follow you around and flip on the lights and put on your shoes. Regret dug itself in, burrowing in a tight ache in his gut. He walked over to her and knelt in front of her so he could lose himself in her eyes. “You’ll get the dog, Julia. I’ll make sure.” Leaning close, he tested her. Sure enough, she stiffened and shrank away from him, focusing on the wall over his shoulder.
    With a light touch on her chin, he directed her eyes back to his. “But you can’t keep doing that.”
    “Doing what?” she almost whispered.
    “Flinching when I get near you. Either they’ll figure out you’re not comfortable around me, or they’re gonna think I push you around.” And neither one would get her that dog.
    “Right. Sorry,” she murmured in that same soft, sweet tone he remembered from the night he’d kissed her twelve years ago. Her voice wobbled the same way it had then. And he felt it, too—the thickening in his throat, the slow burn of desire radiating in throbbing pulses down his body. God, he wanted her. Wanted to feel the silk of her skin beneath his lips. Wanted to prove to her that her scars, the chair, only made her captivating. It made her a survivor. And that made her beautiful.
    Uneven breaths flickered in and out between Julia’s parted lips.
    “I’ll have to touch you.” He slid his hand under hers, feeling the quick pulse of her heart in her palm. “As much as that seems to freak you out, they’re going to expect us to act like husband and wife for the next twenty-four hours.”
    She seemed to accept her fate with a silent nod, her eyes no longer shying away, but staring deep into his.
    Blood pounded through him, engorging his heart. This was exactly the way she’d looked at him before he’d kissed her…
    “Knock, knock!” Cecilia called from outside. Before he had time to get off his knees, the door flew open.
    “Oh dear!” She giggled, stomping snow off of her boots.