Free Charmed by Nora Roberts

“She likes me!” The smile nearly split her face in two. “See, Daddy? She likes me.”
    “Yes, I see.”
    “Morgana usually keeps cold drinks back here.” Ana opened the small refrigerator. “Would you like something?”
    “Sure.” He really wasn’t thirsty, but the offer made it easy to linger. He leaned back against the counter of the kitchenette while Ana got out glasses. “The shop through there?”
    When he gestured at a door, Ana nodded. “Yes. And through there’s the storeroom. A great deal of what Morgana sells is one of a kind, so she doesn’t keep a large supply of inventory.”
    He reached over Ana’s shoulder to finger the thin leaves of a rosemary plant on the windowsill. “She into this kind of thing, too?”
    Ana tried to ignore the fact that his body was brushing hers. She could smell the sea on him, and imagined he and Jessie had gone down to feed the gulls. “What kind of thing?”
    “Herbs and stuff.”
    “In a manner of speaking.” She turned, knowing she’d be entirely too close, and pushed the glass into his chest. “Root beer.”
    “Terrific.” He knew it wasn’t particularly fair—and it was probably unwise as well—but he took the glass and stood precisely where he was. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “It might be a good hobby forJessie and me. Maybe you could show us how to grow some.”
    “It’s no different from growing any living thing.” It took a great deal of effort to keep her voice even when breathing was so difficult. “Care and attention, and affection. You’re very much in my way, Boone.”
    “I hope so.” With his eyes very intense, very focused, he lifted a hand to her cheek. “Anastasia, I really think we need to—”
    “A deal’s a deal, babe.” The smug voice carried through the door as it opened. “Fifteen minutes of sit-down time every two hours.”
    “You’re being ridiculous. For heaven’s sake, you act as though I’m the only pregnant woman in the world.” Heaving a sigh, Morgana walked into the back room. Her brows lifted when she saw the trio—and particularly when she saw the way Boone Sawyer was caging her cousin at the rear counter.
    “You’re the only pregnant woman in my world.” Nash stopped short. “Hey, Ana, you’re just the woman I need to convince Morgana to take it easy. Now that you’re here, I can …” He glanced once at the man beside her, then back again to focus. “Boone? Well, I’ll be damned. Boone Sawyer, you son of a—” He caught himself, mostly because Morgana shot an elbow into his ribs. There was a little girl, all eyes, standing at the table.
    “—gun,” he finished, and strode across the room to shake Boone’s hand and slap his back in a typical male greeting. “What are you doing here?”
    “Delivering stock, I think.” He grinned, gripping Nash’s hand hard in his. “How about you?”
    “Trying to keep my wife in line. Lord, what’s it been? Four years?”
    “Just about.”
    Morgana folded her hands on her belly. “I take it you two know each other?”
    “Sure, we do. Boone and I met at a writers’ conference. It has to be ten years ago, doesn’t it? I haven’t seen you since—” Since Alice’s funeral, Nash remembered abruptly. And he remembered, too, the devastation, the despair and the disbelief in Boone’s eyes as he’d stood beside his wife’s grave. “How are you?”
    “Okay.” Understanding, Boone smiled. “We’re okay.”
    “Good.” Nash put a hand on Boone’s shoulder and squeezed before he turned to Jessie. “And you’reJessica.”
    “Uh-huh.” She beamed up at him, always interested in meeting someone new. “Who are you?”
    “I’m Nash.” He crossed to her, crouched down. Except for the eyes, eyes that were all Boone, she was the image of Alice. Bright, pretty, pixielike. He offered her a formal handshake. “It’s nice to meet you.”
    She giggled and shook his hand. “Did you put the babies into Morgana?”
    To his