Free Miracle Baby (Harlequin American Romance) by Laura Bradford

reacted to her was any indication. Especially when he felt her skin beneath his palm, as he did while guiding her to the sofa.
    What was it about her that made him feel like an awkward teenager? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in the company of women in some crazy length of time. Because he had. And he’d been confident with every single one of them.
    Yet somehow Maggie was different. Sure, he imagined what it would be like to pull her close, to feel her body against his. He’d be a fool if he didn’t. But there was more, too.
    Like a desire to see her smile. And a need to keep her safe.
    He pointed toward the tree, his body keenly aware of her proximity on the sofa. “I filled out one of the slips.”
    She stilled her glass midway to her lips. “What slips?”
    â€œYou know, for the wishing ball. The little slips of paper that you’re supposed to write your wishes on. I even put it inside.”
    â€œDo you think it’ll come true?” she whispered as she set her water on the coffee table.
    â€œI guess we’ll find out next year when I open it again.” He studied her for a moment, enchanted by the way the colorful lights of the tree reflected in Maggie’s eyes. “Would you like to write one?”
    She held up her palms. “No. I don’t really have any wishes left.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    He reached for her hand as she turned to him with a frown. “Excuse me?”
    â€œWell, there was the one about knitting, right?”
    â€œWhich you granted, remember?”
    Nodding, he continued. “And then there was the one from earlier today.”
    â€œI don’t remember making a wish.”
    â€œYou did. In fact, we both did.”
    A smile played across her kissable mouth and he felt his chest tighten in response. “That’s right. You wished to fix things. Like tonight’s dinner.”
    â€œHow’d I do?”
    â€œAmazing. It was absolutely delicious.”
    He puffed out his chest with a playful air. “Just call me Chef Extraordinaire.”
    â€œBut that was your wish, Mr. Chef. I don’t remember having one for me.”
    â€œI do.” Reluctantly, he released her hand long enough to open the drawer of the coffee table and extract a gift-wrapped box. “Which is why you should open this,” he said as he placed the square object in her lap.
    â€œWhat did you do?” she whispered.
    â€œJust open it.”
    For a moment, as she stared down at the gift, he thought she was going to decline. But eventually she turned it over, her fingers finding the taped seams.
    He heard her startled gasp as the paper fell to the side. “What’s this?”
    Scooting closer on the sofa, he ran his hand along the cover of the leather-bound book he’d purchased after work. “It’s a journaling album—a place to keep your memories close and your fear of forgetting at bay.”

Chapter Seven
    She stared at the book in her lap, the fine golden trim sparkling in the glow from the firelight. For more moments than were polite she said nothing, the thudding of her heart drowning out all thoughts except one.
    Glancing up, she met Rory’s eyes, her trembling mouth making it difficult to form the words she wanted to speak.
    Slowly, his finger touched her lips. “You don’t have to say a word, Maggie. The look in your eyes says it all.” He let his hand fall to his lap, his gaze never leaving hers. “And you are so very, very welcome. I hope you like it.”
    â€œ Like it?” she whispered as she looked from him to the book and back again. “Like it? I—I love it.”
    The smile that swept across his face was impossible to miss. So, too, was the naked relief there. “How did you know?” she asked.
    â€œIt was the wish you shared this morning—about not wanting to forget.” He slung his arm over the back of the sofa, its proximity