Her Pregnancy Surprise: His Pregnancy Bargain / The Pregnancy Secret / Their Pregnancy Bombshell

‘How did you know?’ She stopped and shook her head blushing deeply. Far better, under the circumstances, not to know how he knew when a woman was wearing stockings and not tights.

‘Don’t worry, I don’t have X-ray vision.’

‘I wasn’t worried.’ The knot of heat low in her belly made it hard for her to concentrate on what she was doing and a second later she found herself standing in one shoe, teetering awkwardly to one side without having any clear recollection of how she had got to be in that position.

‘For God’s sake…’ His voice impatient, Luc caught her hands in his and placed them firmly on his own shoulders. ‘Hold onto me.’

It was either that or fall down in an ungainly heap.

‘Give me a minute,’ she heard him say. ‘That’s it.’ Hazily she saw him rise, her shoe minus the heel in his triumphant grasp. ‘The shoe’s a write-off, I’m afraid.’

She shook her head; the loss of a shoe was the least of her problems! Her response to this man was less easy to dismiss. In the gathering dusk it was impossible to read the expression on his lean, hard-boned face.

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Awkwardness made her voice abrupt. Minus her heels she only just topped his shoulders. The illusion of being small and dainty was one she shouldn’t in this enlightened age of equality have found attractive…Shouldn’t…!

The impressive shoulders on which her hands were still hanging, quite unnecessarily, flexed and she felt the powerful muscles clench.

She uncurled her fingers. As if reluctant to lose the contact, her fingertips trailed slowly down the front of his open necked shirt. She felt his lean, hard body tense before she lost contact. It made her cringe to imagine that her action might have been interpreted as deliberately provocative, because she had no control whatever over her actions.

‘I suppose we ought to go back.’ The thread of reluctance she heard in her own voice made Megan’s eyes widen in alarm. Anyone listening would have been excused for assuming she wanted her pulse to carry on racing too fast…that she wanted to prolong the moment.

And you don’t…?

‘You could be right.’ she heard him concede. ‘Do you always do the right thing, ma chérie…?’

Just this once Megan let the endearment pass, when he said it in that deep smoky voice of his it sounded like a caress.

With a sigh she lifted her head, her eyes meshed with enigmatic silvered orbs that made her heart pound slow and strong…Luc; the name might be no more real than his supposed attraction for her, but strangely fitted him.

He really was the most incredible-looking man!

‘I try to.’ She gave a shaky little laugh as her eyes slid from his. ‘I won’t waste my breath asking you the same thing.’

Luc looked like a man for whom not doing the right thing was one of life’s guiding principles. Was the danger part of his attraction? Had she been playing it safe for so long that she couldn’t resist what was dark, dangerous and available?

‘I try to do what comes naturally.’ His explanation was not soothing. ‘We should definitely go back, only first…’ Luc’s dark head bent as he framed her face between his hands. She felt his breath fan her cheek as he fitted his mouth to hers. Megan’s eyelashes fluttered against her cheek as her hand came up to cover one of his.

She murmured his name; the sound was lost against his mouth. The pressure of his lips was gentle but insistent; his mouth was cool and firm against her own.

Luc drew back, his lashes lifted from the angle of his knife-edged cheekbones as he examined the passion-flushed features of the woman who stood in the circle of his arms. He gave an almost imperceptible nod of satisfaction.

‘Now you look like a woman who’s shared a few illicit kisses in the moonlight.’

She was floating; she was on fire, every inch of her skin was prickling with the heat of desire. His words had the same effect as an icy shower.

‘There is no moon and I will not be used by you or anyone else!’ she declared in a low, passionate voice.

‘I wasn’t using you; I was kissing you and,’ he added with a slow, contemplative smile, ‘I was enjoying it.’

‘How nice for you that you’re happy in your work. Next time maybe you might like to ask whether I want to be kissed,’ she told him, dragging a hand across her mouth. The symbolic gesture just reminded her of how sensitised and tender her lips felt.

Luc, no longer languid, looked suddenly incredibly furious. ‘Are you suggesting I kissed you against your will?’

‘Not exactly,’ she conceded, her glance dropping guiltily from his outraged face.

‘Good,’ he bit back, not sounding much mollified. ‘Because I don’t need a signed affidavit to know when a woman wants to be kissed. I know and you wanted it.’

The shocking sound of her hand connecting with his cheek resounded across the courtyard. Megan’s hand went to her mouth as her eyes travelled from the livid mark developing on his lean cheek to his eyes, they told her nothing more than his blank expression.

‘That was unforgivable,’ she said, totally contrite. The fact that physically she was much weaker than him was in her eyes no excuse for her loss of control. She felt deeply ashamed. ‘You’re right.’ Humiliation sat like a leaden weight in her stomach. ‘I did want you to kiss me.’

‘You did?’

She nodded; his expression was as unrevealing as his tone. ‘That’s why I was so angry…not with you,’ she hastened to assure him. ‘With me.’

It was ironic—she had been busy getting het up worrying that Luc was getting too immersed in his role, when in reality he wasn’t the one getting reality mixed up with fiction; she was the one letting her fantasies take control!

Luc watched as her slender shoulders sagged.

‘Obviously this thing is not going to work; it’s not your fault.’ Luc, after all, had done everything she had asked of him. ‘It’s me.’

‘You wanted me to kiss you…?’ A muscle in his hollow cheek clenched.

Megan looked at him, her frustration showing. Had he not heard anything she had said after that? She hoped he had; she didn’t much fancy grovelling all over again. In fact she refused to, she decided with a spurt of defiance.

‘Well, I wasn’t exactly averse to it,’ she admitted gruffly. ‘I appreciate you were doing what you thought I wanted.’

‘I was doing what I hoped you wanted,’ he contradicted, sliding his hands down her slender back until they came to rest on the firm curve of her bottom. His grin flashed out minus the edge of cool dispassion and mockery she had grown accustomed to. ‘Now I know…’

‘Know what?’ She gave a startled gasp as he drew her towards him until their hips collided. She inhaled sharply as hot desire zapped through her body; he was rock-hard against the softness of her belly. An energising wave zapped through her body, her knees sagged and Luc took up the slack ably, wrapping one strong arm around her ribcage.

‘Know you want this.’ He ground his hips gently against her abdomen. Megan’s head fell back bonelessly as the silent groan locked in her tight throat struggled to escape. Mutely, she nodded. Not pretending any more, felt strangely liberating.

His big hand cupped the back of her skull, drawing her face up to his. Looking into his platinum-grey eyes made her dizzy.

‘This is quite spectacularly crazy.’

She tried to swallow but couldn’t. She couldn’t stop shaking, tremors that ran like febrile shudders through her entire body. Insane it might be, but she could actually feel his voice. No man had ever excited her this way…up until now she had thought she wasn’t capable of feeling this way. What if it never happened again?

The thought spurred her into direct action. ‘I don’t do crazy, Luc.’ Her lashes lifted and she looked him straight in the eyes. ‘But I could learn.’

Luc’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a startled gasp.

CHAPTER SEVEN

MEGAN’S head dropped. God, she’d been too direct…she’d shocked Luc and small wonder! Her comment had been only slightly less subtle than screaming, Take me! Just because you fancy the socks off him doesn’t mean he feels the same way!

Teeth clenched, she resisted the hand that curved under her chin and his soft but firm instruction, ‘Look at me, Megan.’ Until finally with an exasperated sigh she allowed her face to be tilted up to his.

The mixture of embarrassment and defiance faded from her face as she looked at him. He was smiling a smile so fierce so sweet that she felt as if she’d melt. His fingertips ran along the curve of her jaw and she turned her head into his hand and kissed his palm.

‘I’ll teach you,’ he rasped.

This time there was nothing vaguely tentative or gentle about his lips or the probing tongue that slid between her parted lips. Electrified, Megan kissed him back with a driven desperation. Whimpering softly into his mouth, she wound her arms tightly around his neck.

Her mind had stopped functioning. She was simply responding to the primitive need that made her plaster her aching breasts against his chest, pressing her hips into his. She couldn’t get close enough to him. She had no idea of how long they stood there kissing with a frenzied, frantic desperation.

At some point they must have stopped kissing long enough to end up standing beneath the porch of one of the stable workshops.

‘My God, don’t stop!’ she pleaded, her self-control a dim and distant memory by the time his mouth lifted from her own. She lifted her dazed, passion-glazed eyes to his dark face. ‘You’re…I feel…’ She struggled to articulate the hunger that coursed like a forest fire through her body.

‘My God, but you’re incredible,’ he breathed, scanning her face with blazing eyes.

Megan felt his hand slide under her skirt at the same time her back made contact with the ivy-covered wall. His heavy, warm body pressed her into the hard surface.

‘Oh, my God!’ she groaned, biting her lip.

She felt the pressure ease. ‘Am I hurting you?’ he asked thickly.

Megan slid her hands under his shirt across his satiny hard skin. She released a shuddering sigh as the muscles contracted under her questing fingers. She felt him suck in a deep breath as the fabric parted. Squirming, she pressed her aching breasts against his bare flesh.

She ran the tip of her tongue over the outline of her swollen lips. ‘You’re killing me.’

A low feral groan that made her hot skin break out in a rash of goosebumps emerged from Luc’s throat as he responded to the sexual challenge glittering in her eyes. ‘That’s not what I want to do to you.’

‘What do you want to do?’ she asked in a throaty whisper.

‘This, for starters.’ His fingers reached the bare skin above the lacy tops of her hold-ups and she let out a deep moan as her stomach muscles contracted violently.

‘You’re…you’re…’

‘What am I?’ he prompted throatily.

Impossible to resist. Megan shook her head, the ache between her legs intensifying as her eyes dropped down the length of his incredible body. She was aware of every hard inch of him. She wanted every hard inch of him.

Megan blinked to bring his face into focus; her breath was coming in shallow, uneven gasps. The skin was drawn tight across his high cheekbones. His dark lashes lifted, revealing an almost feral glitter of raw hunger in his eyes.

‘You’re to die for.’

A grin of savage male triumph spread across his face. ‘Not just yet, Megan,’ he responded, loosing the tie of her halter top with one hand while touching the dampness between her legs with the other.

He was breathing hard and fast but Megan, who was doing the same, didn’t notice. She was conscious only of the heat in her blood and Luc stroking her, driving her crazy in a beautiful, mindless way.

Yanking down the neck of her halter top to her waist, he dropped his molten gaze to the pouting contours of her small pink-tipped breasts. The cool air felt like velvet against her sensitised skin. His tongue as he moved it across each erect nipple felt like fire.

She felt like fire.

She reached for him, touching the hardness through the material of his trousers. Luc’s breath started to come even faster. Megan moaned softly as she felt his hard male body surge against her hand.

After a few seconds he took her hands in his and holding them above her head, pressed her into the wall. ‘I can’t give you slow and sweet,’ he admitted, sliding a finger inside her. Megan’s body arched as she gasped and sobbed his name. The muscles in her thighs were trembling violently.

‘I’ll take whatever you have. So long as I feel you inside me in the next ten seconds I don’t care…I don’t care about anything!’ she declared wildly.

‘Hush,’ he soothed, kissing her mouth. ‘I will…I will,’ he promised throatily. Megan was vaguely conscious of the sound of him adjusting his clothing as she kissed him back and told him she loved everything about him.

She felt him against her soft belly, hard and aroused; she had no time to feel concerned about how aroused before he thrust up into her, filling her with his thickness.

‘My God,’ he rasped, his breath hot against her neck. ‘You’re so tight.’

She was in a state of mindless pleasure as he moved inside her, slowly at first, then faster and harder the way she wanted, the way she told him she wanted. The tremors began to build inside then burst into an incredible orgasmic release just seconds before she felt Luc’s hot release inside her.

They sagged to the floor together in an exhausted tangle of limbs. Utterly spent, her knees still trembling, Megan let her cheek rest against his bare chest. The whorls of dark hair tickled her nose. Luc’s arms were around her, and she closed her eyes and listened to the thud of his heartbeat…Gradually it slowed to a steady thud. His skin was hot and slightly damp; the faint scent of the cologne he had used earlier mixed with the musky male scent of his body.

The intimacy was like nothing she had ever experienced in her life.

Luc placed his hand under her chin and lifted her face. Megan waited for the embarrassment she had expected to feel to surface; it didn’t. The most conventional of sex with Brian had left her feeling embarrassed and always self-conscious.

‘I’ve dreamed about doing that since the first moment I saw you,’ he told her. ‘But then,’ he said, stroking her hair back from her face, I expect you already knew that.’

‘No,’ she said honestly. ‘I didn’t even know I wanted to do it until just now.’

Luc laughed at this disingenuous confession and got to his feet.

Shyly she took the hand he offered and let him heave her to her feet. She tilted her head back to look into his dark features. ‘Is it possible to fall in love with someone you don’t know?’

Immediately Luc’s dark features clenched. He looked as though she had just slapped his face.

Megan gave a shaky laugh. If you could die from sheer embarrassment she would be stretched out right now. ‘That was rhetorical, no answer expected or required…in case you were wondering…’

‘Turn around,’ he said abruptly.

Megan did as he asked and felt his fingers brush against the bare skin of her back as he fastened her halter top. She shivered and he swore softly and fumbled the knot.

‘What’s wrong? I didn’t mean me…I…oh, God…!’

He kissed the nape of her neck, then, hands on her shoulders, spun her around. His eyes burned as though lit from within.

‘What’s wrong is you make me…’ He made a visible effort to control himself, then with a sigh of frustration dragged a hand through his hair. ‘I think it would be a good idea if we got back to the house.’

‘Of course.’

As they neared the house she could hear the sound of laughter and voices; someone was playing the piano, and not very well. There was woodsmoke in the air so she assumed that the fire in the enormous grate had been lit. The drawing room with its panelled walls and views out over the lake was her favourite room but the thought of going into it now made her cringe inside. There was simply no way she could act as if nothing had happened between her and Luc.

Megan shook her head and started to back away. ‘I can’t go in there.’

Luc overruled her. ‘Of course you can,’ he said, grabbing her hand. As he was pulling her towards him the automatic sensors on the exterior light kicked in.

She began to smooth down her clothes nervously. ‘I look a mess,’ she fretted. ‘This skirt…’

‘You look gorgeous.’ Megan knew she had never looked gorgeous in her life. She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t need to hear pretty lies when her eyes collided with his.

‘And don’t worry about the skirt—I’ll be taking it off for you as soon as we can decently make our excuses,’ he promised throatily.

A shiver ran through her from the top of her head to her curling toes. Megan doubted decency had ever been used to describe a more indecent plan. ‘You think you’re going to spend the night with me?’ At least her embarrassing introduction of love had not put him off totally.

‘Don’t you?’

She felt his hand on her cheek and her head lifted. Their eyes met, and Megan was overwhelmed, not just by the stab of sexual desire that nailed her to the spot, but by the totally unexpected tenderness in his eyes.

She felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes and blinked rapidly; her throat literally ached with emotion. This is crazy—I don’t even know the man! Actually the only thing she knew for sure about him was he was a good liar…and an even better lover.

‘I wasn’t sure you’d want to…?’

‘I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you.’ He wound a damp honey coloured curl around one long brown finger. ‘I wanted to pull you down onto the sofa and make love to you right then.’

Megan began to shake. She was still blinking in a bemused fashion when a loud, familiar voice suddenly rang out.

‘There they are…’

Luc lifted his hand and waved to the figure standing at the window. ‘No escape now,’ he said without looking at Megan.

Her mother had obviously been waiting for them. ‘Where did you two get to?’ she demanded as they stepped into the hallway. She focused on her daughter and gave a wince. ‘Your hair, Megan…’ she rebuked with a despairing shake of her head.

‘I like it that way.’

The comment brought both women’s attention to Luc’s face.

‘You do?’ Laura said in a startled voice.

Megan assumed that Luc did something to confirm his strange taste to her mother, but she didn’t trust herself to check it out for herself. How could anyone look at her and not know? She felt as though her shame were written all over her face except that, bizarrely, she didn’t feel any shame at all.

‘What happened to you?’

Good question. Megan took a deep breath.

‘And where are your shoes?’

‘Slight mishap—we got caught in the rain,’ she said, lifting a self-conscious hand to her tousled head. ‘I’ll go and fix this.’ If only other things could be fixed with a brush and hairdryer. What had happened to caution, and why…how did she feel so elated?

‘Never mind about that now, it’s fine, come along in,’ Laura urged, shepherding them across the hall. ‘You’ll never guess who is here…’

‘Who?’ Megan didn’t much feel like playing guessing games or being polite to guests, but she managed to feign interest.’

Her heart just about stopped when Luc suggested silkily, ‘The real Lucas…?’ His hand shot out to steady Megan as she stumbled. ‘Oops! Watch your step there, Megan.’

‘He has such a delightfully dry sense of humour,’ Laura observed.

‘He is so, so dead,’ Megan added with a fixed smile. Her reproachful eyes lifted to his face. The innocent expression she encountered was about as believable as a sincere politician. ‘You won’t be laughing then,’ she predicted grimly as she brushed the restraining fingers from her arm.

‘What did you say, darling?’

Megan lifted her voice and said in a flat monotone, ‘I said he’s a laugh a minute.’ She ignored the rumble of soft laughter at her elbow and deliberately didn’t look at him.

A second later as Laura pushed open the drawing-room door she learnt who the mystery guest was. Horror immediately froze her to the spot. Megan was no coward, but suddenly she wanted to take to her heels and run!

Her scam was about to be exposed in the most horrifying way. Would she be facing public humiliation and litigation or was the author going to see the funny side of this? Did he possess a sense of humour? It wasn’t as if they had harmed his reputation—maybe he might even be flattered, as someone who looked fairly ordinary might be if they found themselves being played by Brad Pitt in the film of their life story.

It was, admittedly quite a maybe.

Megan wasn’t sure if she was going to throw up or faint. She angled a quick glance at the tall man beside her. He was looking at her uncle Mal, effortlessly projecting his usual unbelievable level of cool and charisma. If she had been the author with a taste for privacy she might have considered paying Luc to be her public face, but the real Lucas Patrick might not see it quite the same way.

‘Uncle Mal, this is quite a surprise.’ Megan wondered why the presence of her uncle should explain her mother’s suddenly bright eyes, and air of barely suppressed excitement.

The figure who had risen from his seat at the piano as they’d entered came towards her. Handsome despite his thickening middle and thinning hairline, Malcolm…looked very like his younger sister.

‘Oh, yes, your uncle turned up,’ her mother said, dismissing her brother with a slightly irritated shrug. ‘But it was Jean Paul that I was talking about.’ She drew forward with a flourish the old family friend Megan had known since she was a child.

The distinguished, silver-haired Frenchman smiled at Megan. ‘You look very lovely tonight, Megan,’ he said with smooth Gallic charm.

Her uncle was less smooth but also complimentary. ‘Megan, my dear girl, you do look well,’ he told his stricken-faced niece before his glance moved past her to the tall figure who stood with one hand lightly touching her shoulder. His smile was replaced by a look of puzzlement.

‘I didn’t believe it when Laura said my most famous client had turned up on her doorstep,’ Malcolm remarked, shaking his head.

Megan, feeling physically sick, interposed herself between the two men in an instinctively protective gesture. She couldn’t let Luc take the blame, not when this had been her idea. Two bright patches of colour appeared on her cheeks.

‘I can explain…’ She paused, hoping for some inspired explanation, one that would let her emerge not looking like a duplicitous idiot who had to bribe someone to pretend to be her boyfriend.

There was no inspiration.

‘It was my idea…’

‘To show me the art workshops,’ Luc completed smoothly for her. Hands thrust casually in his pockets, he stepped forward.

At a time like this I can admire his bottom…I’ve clearly become a candidate for intensive therapy, she decided despairingly.

‘The flu turned out to be just a head cold, Mal. I popped a bit of vitamin C and here I am. I’ve been made to feel every bit as welcome as you said I would be. All that was missing was you.’

To Luc’s amusement Malcolm shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, looking more like a guilty schoolboy than head of one of the most successful publishing houses in the country.

‘Sorry, I was…urgently, called away…business…only got back this morning. Naturally when I heard you were here…’ He leaned towards the younger man and murmured, ‘What the hell are you up to, Luc?’

‘A very good question, Mal.’ His attention drifted momentarily towards Megan. He didn’t elaborate.

Megan looked from one man to the other, she pressed her fingers to her temples to relieve the growing pressure. This didn’t make sense.