Because of the Baby by Debbie Macomber

obviously agrees with you.”
    Compliments made Karen uncomfortable. “I can’t button my jeans. And I’m only three months along,” she complained. “At this rate, I’ll end up resembling a battleship.”
    He stepped away from the stove and made a show of studying her. He twisted his head one way and then the other. When he’d finished, he said in a thoughtful tone, “Maybe, but you’ll be the prettiest battleship around.”
    Matt always knew how to cheer her up. But she didn’t want to laugh and joke with him; that kind of camaraderie was dangerous. She had to remind herself repeatedly that after the baby was born, she was returning to California. It was becoming more and more difficult to think about her life away from Matt.
    â€œLet me help you with dinner,” she insisted.
    â€œNo way.” He was prepared to chase her out of the kitchen, but she stood her ground.
    â€œMatt, I want to help. If you don’t let me, I’ll go crazy with nothing to do.”
    He gave in. “Fine. You can set the table for our guests.”
    Then, because she was pleased to see him, and because she forgot for a moment that they were divorced and sleeping in separate rooms, she stood on tiptoe and briefly brushed his mouth with hers.
    Matt stared at her as though she’d suddenly sprouted wings. Or antennae. His expression said he didn’t understand why she’d done this. She wasn’t sure herself. But it felt right. It felt more than right—it felt good.
    Â 
    The folks in Hard Luck were getting to be experts at celebrating weddings, Ben Hamilton mused contentedly. He worked in the kitchen beside the school gymnasium, assembling horsd’oeuvres for Bethany and Mitch. First there’d been a wedding and reception for Sawyer and Abbey, and almost directly afterward another one for Pete and Dotty. Come spring, there was Charles and Lanni’s, and now a reception for Bethany and Mitch.
    His gaze followed the couple as they circulated among their guests. Pride filled him as he regarded Bethany—his daughter. The realization still took some getting used to. He actually had a daughter. One he’d never known about until she’d arrived in Hard Luck last year.
    It saddened Ben to acknowledge that he hadn’t been there for either Bethany or her mother, Marilyn. Instead, he’d spent twenty-odd years in the United States Navy, first in Vietnam and later on in various ports around the world. When he’d retired ten years ago, only in his forties, he’d come here to Alaska and opened his café. He hadn’t married; his affair with Marilyn was a brief episode he’d never forgotten. One that, it turned out, had left him with a daughter.
    And my, oh my, Bethany was pretty. Looking at her now with her husband and stepdaughter, Chrissie, Ben wondered how he could have produced such a charming, caring, lovely young woman.
    With more than a touch of regret, he realized he hadn’t. Her mother and Peter Ross, the man who’d loved Marilyn, had raised Bethany; they were the ones responsible for the woman she’d become. His contribution to the effort had been strictly genetic. Still, he took a good deal of pleasure in his daughter—in the kind of person she was. It thrilled him no end that Bethany and Mitch had decided to continue living in Hard Luck. He hadn’t figured out what role he’d play in her life—that was up to Bethany—but he was grateful for the opportunity to know her.
    â€œWhat are you doing in the kitchen?” Christian O’Halloran demanded. “You should be out there with everyone else, enjoying the party.”
    Ben wasn’t comfortable outside of a kitchen. He found he related to folks far more easily when he had something to occupy his hands, when he had coffee to pour and food to serve. He’d never been one to mingle and mix at parties.
    â€œI’ve got plenty to do