The Pregnancy Proposition. Andrea Laurence

remember you. I know I’ll never forget the kind nurses that cared for me after my accident.”

      “I hope you’re right,” Paige said. She tried to make a difference in their lives, even when it didn’t seem like she was getting anywhere.

      Mano’s hand slid along the railing until he found hers. He covered her with his reassuring warmth. “And I’ll remember you, Paige Edwards.”

      Her breath caught in her throat at his words and his caress. Her skin seemed to sing beneath his touch. A thrill ran up her arm and jolted her heart to beat double time in her chest. She knew she shouldn’t get excited. Mano wasn’t putting the moves on her; he was being kind. And yet, her body didn’t seem to know the difference. “I’ll remember you, too. You are the first person in a long time that truly seems to see me.”

      “Sometimes people depend too much on their eyes,” Mano explained. “They make all their judgments based on what they see, ignoring everything else. I may not know what you look like, Paige, but I know a lot of other things about you that make you a person I want to know more about.”

      She really couldn’t understand why he felt that way. She was a nobody—certainly not the kind of woman who captured the attention of a rich, handsome man like Mano. “I don’t know what you see that others don’t. Frankly, I don’t even see it. I’ve never thought I was very special.”

      “That’s odd,” Mano said. “I find myself wanting to know everything about you. It seems I uncover a surprise with every layer I peel away. May I ask you something?”

      Paige shifted nervously, pulling back from his touch. Usually when someone prefaced a question like that, it was going to be bad. Like when her sister asked if Paige’s relationship with Wyatt was really serious. She was just testing the waters before she jumped in. “Why not?” she said at last. After what she’d been through lately, there wasn’t much he could ask that would make things worse.

      “May I touch your face?”

      Except for maybe that.

      “I know that sounds odd,” Mano continued, “but it’s how I see people. I’d like to see you better.”

      A part of Paige was happy that Mano couldn’t see her. He seemed so interested in her. Would finding out how she looked ruin their perfect night together? She supposed that telling him no would end it just as awkwardly. “Okay,” she agreed.

      Mano turned to face her, but his expression was as concerned as hers likely appeared. “You sound nervous. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

      “No, it’s okay,” she argued, placing a hand on his forearm. “If you had your sight, you would’ve known what I looked like from the first moment, so you’ve waited long enough to know. I just hope you’re not disappointed with what you find.”

      * * *

      Disappointed? Most of the women who had drifted in and out of Mano’s life had a healthy sense of self-esteem, but not Paige. Whether or not she was right, she seemed to think she was invisible or even unattractive. He didn’t think that was actually possible, but now he’d find out for himself.

      Taking her wrists in his hands, he let his palms glide up her arms to her neck. There, he cradled her face in his hands. Paige was tense and still beneath his fingertips as they traced the lines and angles of her face. She had a delicate brow, large, wide eyes and a sharp nose. Her face was thin, as was the rest of her, judging by her narrow wrists and protruding collar bones.

      He realized then that she was too still and too silent beneath his touch. “Breathe, Paige.”

      She moved slightly with a sudden exhale and intake of breath. Once she relaxed, his fingers ran over her hair. It was long, straight and silky. Paige hadn’t twisted it up or tortured it with curling irons and hair spray. It just flowed naturally down her back.

      “What color are your eyes?” he asked, trying to envision them in his mind.

      “They’re a hazel color. Not quite green and not quite brown.”

      Mano nodded, the picture coming together. “Now, tell me about what you’re wearing tonight so I can see it.”

      “I overdressed a little,” she confessed. “It’s a blue satin cocktail dress that I found on sale at the mall. I don’t even know why I bought it—I have nowhere to wear it normally—but I threw it into the suitcase when I was packing. I figured if I didn’t wear it tonight, I might as well donate it to charity.”

      He didn’t know why she had to cut herself down with every description of herself. “What shade of blue?”