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

‘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.

‘You know one another…?’ she said blankly.

‘Of course they know one another,’ said her mother, who was standing a little apart from them. She scanned her daughter’s pale face with a frown. ‘Are you feeling all right? Heavens you’ve not caught this wretched cold bug, have you?’

Megan wasn’t feeling all right. She doubted she had ever felt less all right in her life! She lifted her gaze to Luc. ‘So you are Lucas Patrick, the writer…?’

He nodded.

‘Who else would he be?’ Laura asked.

The man I just made love to?

‘A man who needs warming up,’ responded Hilary huskily. Her hungry eyes announced to everyone that it was a task she was only too willing to take on! ‘You look frozen, Luc!’ she purred.

Megan watched in seething silence as the voluptuous woman trailed her scarlet-painted fingers slowly down Luc’s chest. She felt sick.

‘You feel cold too, darling.’