Still, he couldn’t leave just yet. Not when the chance to sit and stare at Sophie a little longer was too good to pass up.

“Sure. I’d love to see you in action.”

He was rewarded with another one of her radiant smiles. “Maybe you could even read to the kids?”

Panic hit him at her innocent suggestion. It wasn’t that he couldn’t make it through a kids’ book. Of course he could. But reading it aloud in front of people? What if he got stuck on a word? What if he stumbled over a sentence? What if he was so distracted by Sophie’s nearness that the letters took control of his brain the way they always used to instead of the way he’d forcefully trained them to behave?

No.

No way.

He shook his head, trying to act like it was no big deal that he didn’t want to help her out with story time. “They came to hear you.”

She frowned at his refusal. “Okay. But if you change your mind, just let me know.”

He nodded, even though the odds of that were about as good as being able to throw snowballs in hell.

She introduced him to a handful of people as they made their way across the large room. He heard the pride in her voice every time she introduced him as her boyfriend. Guilt slashed through him, stronger now than ever before. He should have gone with her to tell her family everything as soon as she’d informed him that she was pregnant.

But he’d been too much of a coward. Again. He’d been too afraid that they’d see just how unworthy he was of her and try to keep him from her before he had any chance at all to convince her to marry him.

Sophie drew him over to an open seat and leaned over to whisper, “Stop looking so hot. The moms are going to be too busy staring at you to hear a word of the stories.”

He knew just how that went, considering he could hardly make sense of what she’d just said to him with her soft hair brushing over him, her sweet scent washing over him, and her curves pressed lightly into him.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She pressed a soft kiss to his lips before turning to greet the children like old friends she’d been dying to see again.

Jake watched little boys and girls happily surround her, even the babies crawling from their mother’s laps to get closer to her, and his heart turned all the way over.

Everyone in his life was so predictable, but not this beautiful woman who was reading so animatedly from a book about an elephant and a pig who were playing with a ball. As the children laughed with her when the elephant lost the ball, he realized Sophie Sullivan was the only person who had ever kept him on his toes.

He couldn’t imagine anymore what life would be like without her. Without her spark. Without her laughter.

As a girl, she’d been sweet and he’d been charmed despite himself. As a woman, she was sensual and bright, sexy and sweet, a thousand contradictions wrapped up into one irresistible package.

He’d asked her for a chance, for seven days to prove that he had what it took to take care of her and their children. She’d given him that temporary gift and now he needed to give one back: the support of her family at a time when she needed it the most.

Jake took one last, long look at the beautiful woman who had gone from role-playing “naughty fantasy librarian” to “silly piggy” in the span of one short morning and knew there would never be a better reason for the hell he was about to willingly walk into.

* * *

Sophie looked up from the book she had just finished to see Jake blow her a kiss before walking away. The women at story time practically sighed in unison.

She couldn’t stop the smile from growing on her face as she admired his broad back, his narrow hips, the way the tips of his dark hair curled just the slightest bit over his collar. Things had changed between them in the past twenty-four hours.

He’d asked for a week, but it looked like he was going to beat it by a mile.

No doubt he’d enjoy rubbing that in, she thought with another grin.

She said goodbye to the little girls and boys and their parents, then went back to her desk just as a ten-year-old boy walked up. “I need to write a book report about Abraham Lincoln, but the only book I can find on him is this one.” He held up a thick, dusty tome that she doubted she’d want to read herself.

Something about the boy reminded her of Jake. Not because of any physical similarities, but more his manner, the way he held himself. She’d met Jake at this age and he’d been larger than life to a worshipful five-year-old.

“I don’t read all that fast, or that good,” the boy told her, his cheeks flushing slightly at the admission.

Again, she couldn’t help but be reminded of Jake. And the slightly panicked look in his eyes when she’d asked him to help read to the children.

“Do you know if there are any other ones that are smaller? With easier words?”

She smiled at him. “There sure are. Follow me.”

But as she helped the little boy find the books he needed, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jake and the fact that he hadn’t been in the library until today, and she hadn't found a stash of books anywhere in his house yet. She didn’t expect everyone to be as addicted to books as she was, but in her experience, unless someone had major reading disabilities, they usually could find something they enjoyed reading.

Just then, a wave of nausea hit her and she lost the train of her thoughts. Her muscles were suddenly achy and, for the first time since she’d gotten pregnant, she needed to sit down. She grabbed for the nearest step-stool and sank down onto it as she took a few deep breaths. Who knew morning sickness could hit so far into the first trimester?