Miracle Baby (Harlequin American Romance) (13 page)

She peered at her reflection in the mirror, finding that the hint of hope, as well as her plans for the evening, had brought an unfamiliar shine to her eyes. A shine that was more than a little welcome.

For hours after Delilah left, Maggie had sat at the kitchen table making lists—items she felt would do well in the shop, steps she needed to take to market the store, custom-order work she could offer to increase her appeal. The fact that she talked through some of her thoughts using things she'd learned from Jack only served as proof of his lasting place in her heart.

The baby items she'd allowed herself to consider had been a bit more difficult, but even with that she'd found a way to honor her daughter. Everlasting Smiles would be a line of custom-order frames created for the sole purpose of marking various milestones in a child's life—First Step, First Smile, First Birthday, etc. Each frame would have a tiny leaf emblem on the back as a reminder of Natalie's first smile.

It was as if Delilah's visit had unlocked a door in Maggie's heart, giving her access to a place where there were
no walls between the past and the present, and where the future could coexist with both of them.

Her
future.

Inhaling courage into her lungs, Maggie rummaged through her purse until she found the directions she'd used less than a week earlier. She knew there was no guarantee Rory would be home, but it was a chance she was willing to take. She owed him that much.

She stepped into the hall, stopping to retrieve the packages she and Delilah had left outside the door. The least Maggie could do was give him the opportunity to hand them to her as he'd intended.

After
she apologized. And after she said thank-you.

The drive to Rory's house was shorter than she remembered, despite the frequent stops she made to grab real-estate flyers along the way. A few of the places she checked out were mother-in-law quarters. Although not her ideal, it was certainly an option to consider, at least until Maggie knew whether her shop would succeed.

Her
shop.

It was hard to believe she'd been in Lake Shire less than a week. She'd arrived at her uncle's inn with a heart so heavy it threatened to stop beating. Yet now, it was lighter somehow.

She made the final turn onto Rory's street, finding his house easy to pick out thanks to the colorful lights from the Christmas tree that graced his front room. Slipping the car into Park, she turned off the engine and sat staring up at the place.

There was so much she wanted to say to him. So many
ideas about the shop she wanted to share. But there was a part of her that was afraid, too.

For days he'd gone out of his way to be nice. And when she hadn't been actively pushing him away, she'd been holding him at arm's length.

Except when they kissed.

She closed her eyes at the memory of his lips on hers, her heart rate accelerating on cue. She hadn't dreamed of anything like that when she came to Lake Shire. And wasn't sure she'd ever want it again.

But it had been special nonetheless.

Because
he
was special.

Rory O'Brien was the kind of person who made you feel good. His positive outlook, encouraging spirit and thoughtful ways were rare gifts. And he had them all. The fact that he wanted to share them with her was nothing short of a blessing.

She stepped from the car armed with the bags he'd left and a little something extra she'd tucked inside her purse. Slowly, she made her way up to the door, her determination to do the right thing overshadowed by a fear that seemed to grow with each step she took.

What if he was angry? What if he slammed the door and told her to go home? What if he simply didn't answer?

“He cares about you, Maggie. He really does.”

With any luck, Delilah was right. Just as she seemed to be about everything else…

Maggie knocked, and the footsteps she heard brought a smile to her lips that only grew wider when they came face-to-face.

“Maggie?”

“Hi. I hope you don't mind that I just stopped by.” She lifted the items he'd left. “But it looks as if you wanted to give me something.”

A dimple appeared in first one cheek and then the other. “And you—Little Miss I Don't Like Surprises—didn't peek?”

“Nope. So I figured I'd bring them over here along with something else.”

“Something else?” he asked.

A squadron of butterflies took flight in her stomach the moment he cocked his head to study her. She gulped. “Yes.”

“Do you plan on cluing me in?”

She considered making him wait, stringing him along the way he had done to her about the shop. But in the end she relented, her mouth desperate to do something other than find his. “I brought an apology.”

“You don't owe me any apologies.”

“I don't agree.” A gust of wind kicked up and skittered across the front porch, making her teeth chatter. “I—I was w-wrong—”

He reached for her and tugged her inside, closing the door against the cold. “If you insist on apologizing, I insist you come inside. Your uncle will have my hide if you get sick standing on my front porch.”

She couldn't help but laugh. Partially because Rory had such a sweet way of putting things and partially because she knew he was right.

“Can I take your coat?” he asked as he took the packages from her hands and set them on a hall table.

Nodding, she allowed him to slip it off her shoulders. “I don't want to barge in on your night, so I won't stay long. I just—”

“Barge in on my night? Are you kidding?” He hung her coat on a hook beside the door and then turned to face her. “Your being here
makes
my night.”

She felt her face warm at his words. “I just wanted to apologize for ignoring your knock last night and again this morning. It's just that…well, I was in a bad place and I didn't know how to get out.”

For a moment he said nothing, his gaze playing across her face before skimming slowly down her body, the gesture making her glad she'd taken the time to put on a nice pair of black corduroy pants and a white V-neck sweater. The boots had been an afterthought, one he seemed to like based on the appreciative double take they earned. When his visual inventory was done, he offered a smile that nearly melted her knees. “You're here now. That's all that matters.”

“No, it's not,” she protested. “You've been so nice to me since the beginning. You've listened to me. You've encouraged me. You've done so many sweet things. All of which leads me to the second reason for my visit.”

He brought his hand to the small of her back and guided her toward the hearth room. “Don't say another word. Not until you come in and sit down.”

She did as she was told, sinking onto the couch beside his muscular frame. When she'd caught her breath, she continued, though his sheer presence made it hard to focus on anything besides him. “I wanted to say thank-you. Everything you've done for me so far has been above
and beyond, but the box of craft supplies? Well, that was my puff of air.”

“Puff of air?”

“To get my wings up off the floor,” she explained, her voice growing quiet as she pondered the enormity of what she was saying—what she hoped to get across. “I've been so lost, Rory. Simply moving through a life I no longer wanted.”

He grimaced at her words. “Please don't say that.”

She brought the tips of her fingers to his lips even as she tried not to remember the way they'd felt against her own. “I still hurt at their loss. And I always will. But making a future for myself doesn't mean they disappear.”

The words were so much like the ones Delilah had spoken during their knitting lesson, words that had been hard to take in, yet were everything Maggie needed to hear. She was here because it wasn't her time.

“That shop you showed me? I want to give it a go. I want to chase that dream…see where it leads.” She felt him studying her closely, yet she didn't mind. “It's something I considered a long time ago before I had another—far more important—purpose to my days. Now that that purpose is no longer there—” her voice faltered “—I need to find something else to keep my feet moving. Something that will get me through life until I see them again. I think the shop will do that.”

His brow furrowed momentarily, a frown soon pushed away by a slow, thoughtful smile. “The supplies did that?”

“
You
did that.” Her breath hitched when she felt his
hand on her face, his thumb wiping away a lone tear. “You keep granting me these wishes I didn't even realize I had. And they're changing me…they're giving me—” She stopped, closed her eyes as his hand caressed her jaw.

“They're giving you what?”

“Hope,” she whispered.

When he didn't respond, she opened her eyes, saw him studying her with a look she couldn't identify. “What?”

“Wishes have a way of doing that, you know.”

“Do they now?” she teased.

“I happen to know you have a few more out there.”

“I do?”

Nodding, he stood and ventured into the hallway, returning with the two bags she'd brought over. He set the first one in her lap. “Open this first.”

She looked from the bag to him and back again. “What did you do?”

“I listened.”

“You're good at that.” She pulled the handles of the gift bag apart and peeked inside. The assortment of her favorite penny candies caught her by surprise. “Candy?”

“It's not exactly the lifetime supply you mentioned, but it'll keep you busy for a while.” He dropped onto the sofa beside her. “The chocolate caramel twists were some of my favorites growing up.”

She looked at him through the misty haze that suddenly filled her eyes. “How do you do it? How do you remember all of this?”

He shrugged, then pulled his hand out from behind his back to reveal the second bag. “Now open this one.”

“Rory, I can't. You've done too much already.”

He set it on her lap. “Please. This one is special.”

“They've all been special.” And she meant it. She pried the handles of the second bag apart, a familiar scent wafting through the opening as she did so. “Oh, my gosh…you didn't.”

Reaching into the bag, she retrieved the tissue-wrapped plant from inside, the mist in her eyes finding its way down her cheeks.

“There's no reason you can't hang it in your uncle's suite. It's a memory, you know?”

“A wonderful memory,” she whispered. Raising it above his head, she leaned in for a kiss, only to stop just short of his lips. “Thank you, Rory. Thank you for everything.”

 

H
E CUPPED THE BACK OF HER
head with his hand and pulled her close, the feel of her mouth on his obliterating any restraint he had left. When her lips parted ever so slightly, he pressed on, his tongue mingling with hers as his hands dropped to her waist.

His body hardened as she scooted closer, slipping her arms around his neck. Dropping his lips to her chin and then her neck, he found himself wishing it was summer. A camisole or halter top would give easier access to the skin he longed to touch, to memorize.

“Maggie,” he groaned as she wiggled closer, the swell of her breasts visible through her V-neck as she pressed
against him. “You have no idea how often I think about you. You're on my mind all the time.”

She put her hand against his chest and leaned back. “Why?”

It was a question he couldn't believe she could ask, when the answers seemed so obvious. “Because you're sweet. You're special. You're…” He pulled her onto his lap and nuzzled the side of her face with his nose. “You drive me wild.”

“Wild?” she echoed, the word morphing into a soft moan as his hands traveled to the bottom of her sweater and slipped beneath the hemline.

“Absolutely, positively wild.” Slowly, he moved his hands upward, savored the feel of her soft skin beneath his palms, the sensation broken only by the silky bra that blocked his path. Daunted for only a second, he unhooked the clasps, felt the material give way against the push of her rounded breasts.

He stopped, met her eyes with his own, wordlessly pleaded for permission to continue. She, too, spoke without words as she grabbed hold of her sweater and lifted it over her head.

 

S
HE WATCHED HIM FROM
beneath her lashes, his moan of appreciation giving her the courage to continue. If he noticed the angry scars on her arm, he didn't mention them. Instead he simply stared at her in awe.

“God, you are beautiful, Maggie,” he murmured as he jumped to his feet and clasped her hands in his. “Absolutely beautiful.” He leaned in and whispered against her ear, “Are you sure? I mean really, really sure?”

She nodded, savoring the sensation of his breath on her skin. “I'm sure.”

“Then let's go upstairs,” he said, his voice husky with desire. “I want this to be perfect.”

“It
is
perfect…right here.” She tipped her head toward the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, the nibble of his lips on her neck making her body tingle. “It's magical.”

“Being here with you is what makes it magical.” His lips dropped lower, trailing his hands as they moved from her shoulders to her breasts. With quiet urgency he teased each nipple with his tongue, arousing her more.

When he stopped to look at her, she reached for the buttons of his shirt and slowly undid each one, the feel of the cloth beneath her fingertips more than a little exciting. As she neared the bottom, the maroon-colored fabric fell open, affording an unobstructed view of his muscular chest….

She wanted him. And he, no doubt, wanted her. She could see it in his eyes every bit as much as she could feel it in his touch.

They made their way over to the tree, where he knelt on the rug and pulled her to him. Slowly, deliberately, he unfastened the buttons on her jeans, slid them down her thighs until they pooled at her feet. Then, reaching up, he inched her black lace panties down, a look of sheer admiration on his face.