He wished he could make her smile. He’d been able to—once. He stood and pretended to survey the sofas. ‘You know what? The plastic-wrapped look was a smart choice. I think it could really take off.’ She didn’t smile. ‘I hear babies make a lot of mess. You might want to keep this look for the next three or four years.’ He couldn’t believe he’d said the word babies without flinching. ‘You know, we could plastic-wrap the whole interior of this room. You could just hose it down at the end of every day. It’d save you loads of time.’ He was glad he’d made the effort when her lips shifted upwards the tiniest fraction. He shook himself. Enough of this. ‘C’mon, let’s get you to the medical clinic.’ He reached down and helped her to her feet. He didn’t release her arm. ‘Are you feeling dizzy or faint?’ Should he carry her to the car? His skin pulled tight with need. It rocked him to find just how much he wanted to touch her, to have her in his arms. She shook her head.
