The Pregnancy Discovery

Meg made a choking sound. Where on earth had this stupid question come from? What did it have to do with the letter in the bottle? Didn’t the ditsy journalist know about sticking to the hard facts?

Sam looked a little startled by the question, too, but he quickly recovered. He favoured the journalist with a full-scale model of his sexiest smile. ‘Aussie girls are enchanting.’

The journalist simpered and Meg might have scowled if the camera hadn’t swung to focus on her. The interviewer spoke again, ‘And, Meg, what’s it like to have the attention of Seattle’s favourite bachelor?’

‘It’s been an enlightening experience,’ she replied coolly.

The journalist’s eyebrow arched. ‘Can you tell us exactly how you’ve been enlightened?’

Meg smiled slowly. ‘No.’

Taken aback, the journalist stared at Meg for several long seconds before trying Sam again. ‘We’re told that this story isn’t just about a romance that happened sixty years ago.’ Her eyes slid meaningfully from Meg to Sam. ‘I understand there’s a little chemistry happening right now?’

Meg glared over her shoulder at her boss, who was slinking behind a clump of golden cane palms. She heard the angry hiss of Sam’s breath. When she glanced his way, she saw that his smile had been replaced by a displeased, stony stare.

‘You heard Miss Bennet,’ he said. ‘No comment.’

The journalist shrugged and rolled her eyes.

To Meg’s relief, someone else called, ‘OK, now we’ll take some beach shots! Everyone down at the water’s edge.’

On the beach, the morning sun hung above them, a dazzling white-gold blaze in the sky. Beneath it, the bay stretched like a shimmering sheet of liquid gold.

A cameraman hurried to set up his tripod.

And a bottle was thrust into Sam’s hands. ‘This is it? This is the bottle?’ He turned to Meg.

She nodded.

The bottle was empty and Meg stood quietly as he examined the ancient, once clear, green glass carefully, turning it over and over, slowly. He seemed to be studying the surface, which was worn to an opaque haze by sand and salt and endless, endless water.

Her mouth quivered into a funny little trembling smile as she watched him and she wondered if he felt as choked up as she did. This was the bottle that had been held by Tom Kirby, his grandfather. All those years ago.

For days now, she’d been thinking about this moment when it was handed over to its rightful owner. She looked at Sam through moist eyes. ‘It’s good to know you have it at last,’ she said in a voice choked with emotion.

Once more, cameras clicked and whirred as photographers crouched and hovered around them. ‘That’s lovely, sweetheart.’ Click! ‘Keep looking at him like that.’ Click! Click! ‘Beautiful.’

As soon as there was a break, Sam’s face pulled into a wry grimace as he looked at her. ‘I’ll be happier when I get the letter as well as this bottle.’

Meg stiffened. All he cared about was the letter and the will and securing his family’s business. She should have known a playboy bachelor from Seattle wouldn’t have a sentimental bone in his body.

‘Now, put your arm around her, mate,’ another voice instructed.

Before she could prepare herself, Sam’s strong arm settled around Meg’s shoulders. She was gathered against him and of course her curves fitted perfectly against the hard planes of his muscular physique. This close, she could smell his skin, clean with a hint of expensive aftershave…and annoying, undeniable ripples of awareness heated her.

This was way too close for comfort.

‘Put your hand on the bottle, too,’ someone instructed. ‘That’s it—both of you holding it together.’

‘Now, look deep into each other’s eyes.’

Reluctantly, Meg dragged her eyes up to meet Sam’s. This wasn’t fair! Her resistance was wearing off. Suddenly, looking into those blue depths was like taking off from a high diving board. Her foolish heart leapt in her chest.

She tried for a joke—anything to take her mind off her body’s embarrassing reactions. ‘I guess we can regard this as practice for when we get married.’ Then she cringed. Idiot! Had she really said that? ‘I mean married to—whoever we marry,’ she stammered, suddenly terribly flustered. ‘If we get ever married.’ How did she get into this mess? ‘Either of us, that is—’ she added, floundering hopelessly. ‘Either of us get married to anyone,’ she finished lamely.

Looking into Sam’s sexy eyes had emptied her mind of all cohesive thoughts.

‘I get the picture, Meg.’ He smiled.

‘Have I gone bright red?’ she asked him, as the cameras clicked away.

‘Just a very becoming pink.’ His amused eyes looked deep into hers as he tugged her a little closer.

His lips were so temptingly close. Meg had the distinct impression that he would have liked to kiss her again. She felt her own lips part and a little tremor of anticipation danced across them.

Thank goodness for Fred and the photographers! She was safe from Sam’s kisses while they were around. How could any part of her feeble brain be contemplating kissing this man hot on the heels of yesterday’s fiasco? Today she was supposed to be working doubly hard at keeping Sam at bay.

To her relief, the photo session was over at last. Someone mentioned that the next ferry would arrive soon, and the media dispersed, scrambling to leave for another assignment.

Meg squinted at the sky, taking deep breaths to regain her equilibrium. ‘Time to get out of the sun.’

‘You have a busy schedule today?’ Sam asked as they passed under criss-crossing fronds of coconut palms on the way back to the resort.

She wasn’t going to fall for any more of his come-on lines. ‘I’m exceedingly busy,’ she answered emphatically. ‘I have meetings…’

He nodded. ‘But would you have dinner with me tonight?’

She pressed her lips tightly together. Not only did she have to ward off this man’s charm, now she had to deal with his persistence as well.

Sam added softly, ‘It can be my way of paying you back for the dirty hand I dealt you yesterday.’

Meg was proud of her crisp reply. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’

‘I owe you a great deal.’ He stopped walking and looked down at the bottle he was still holding. Then he tossed it lightly from one hand to the other. ‘Whatever happens, my family will be grateful to you for my grandfather’s letter.’

‘Whatever happens?’ Meg repeated. ‘You sound like you’re really worried about how this will turn out.’

His face tightened and he looked away at some spot down the beach. ‘I’ll feel a lot better when that will is safely in the hands of my lawyers.’

‘You said there’s a lot at stake.’

‘Yeah.’ His fingers toyed with the bottle’s mouth. ‘Meg—about my grandfather’s letter—you’ve read it, haven’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can you tell me more about it? Are you sure there’s no way of telling who it was addressed to?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. As I told you, the top of the page was damaged.’