Her Pregnancy Surprise: His Pregnancy Bargain / The Pregnancy Secret / Their Pregnancy Bombshell. Barbara McMahon
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work and home was going to be hard to get right, but she was determined to strike a balance that she could live with.
Luc gave a thin smile, he didn’t bother to hide his scepticism as he snorted, ‘Job-sharing! Is the real Megan in there—?’ He stretched his hand out, intending to touch the side of her head.
Megan, who knew exactly what the casual contact would do to her, flinched away before he made contact. She saw his jaw tighten and repressed a groan. Well, she told herself, if he thought she couldn’t bear to have him touch her, so much the better. If he knew how much she craved his touch it would only complicate things even more—it wouldn’t do her pride much good either.
‘What do you mean?’ As if she didn’t know.
‘Well, you have to admit job-sharing doesn’t sound like you.’
‘You don’t know me.’ Neither do I, these days. ‘And why do you assume that I’m going to be a disaster as a mother?’ she asked sharply. She might not have felt this angry if his dig hadn’t magnified her own fear that she would be inadequate for the daunting task of parenting.
‘Why do you assume that I’d be relieved to offload my responsibilities to this baby?’ he countered.
Protesting that it wasn’t the same thing at all would have laid her open to a legitimate accusation of sexism. Instead Megan shook her head and insisted, ‘I didn’t.’ Then added weakly, ‘Not exactly.’
‘I just don’t believe you sometimes. You think I’d let my child grow up not knowing who the hell I was!’
He shook his dark head and she thought, God, he’s furious.
‘As for all that rubbish about you being responsible, like they say it takes two…and I was most definitely there. Or had you forgotten?’
His response was the first indication she had had so far that he wanted anything to do with the baby and Megan wasn’t sure how she felt about it. What was he talking about anyway? Gifts and cards on birthdays and Christmas? Every other weekend and alternate summer holidays?
The image of a future where Luc turned up with his latest girlfriend in tow to take their child to the zoo filled her with horror.
‘I wish I could forget!’
A raw silence fell between them.
A cautious light entered her eyes as she looked across at him from under the protective shade of her lashes. She was almost sure he didn’t even know that he was grinding one clenched fist into the other open palm. It was very much the action of someone who was struggling to suppress strong emotions. She could see every sinew, every taut muscle of his lean body screaming with tension.
‘I’m going to be a father.’ He said it as it had just begun to sink in.
There was a blank look of incomprehension on his lean, devastatingly handsome features in the moment before he leapt to his feet in one lithe motion.
‘Luc…?’ He appeared not to hear her tentative voice as, with one fist clenched to his forehead in an attitude of deep thought, the other thrust in the pocket of his snug-fitting trousers, he began to pace from one end of the room to the other.
It was impossible, even in her present distraught frame of mind, not to look at him and experience a shivery frisson of sensation in the pit of her stomach while hearing the words lithe and luscious in her head.
‘If you need time to think about this, I understand…’ Coming here had been a mistake, a major mistake.
‘Shut up, I’m thinking.’
Megan’s eyes narrowed at his tone. ‘I’m being understanding,’ she told him wrathfully.
He looked over his shoulder and for a moment the intensity of his expression melted into a delicious grin. ‘Be understanding quietly, chérie,’ he instructed, pressing a finger to his lips.
Even without the grin the endearment would have got to her; with it she melted like butter on a hot knife.
He continued to pace for a few more minutes before moving back to the sofa. He sat on the edge, his body curving towards her so that their knees were almost touching. His body language created an illusion of intimacy that made it difficult for Megan to think straight. She had a horrible notion that her feelings were written in letters a mile high across her forehead as she gazed back at him, but she couldn’t do a thing about it.
‘I want…’ he studied her face for a moment before his sensual lips slowly curled upwards into a self-derisive smile while she tensed her body, almost quivering with anticipation ‘…Input.’
Colour flooded Megan’s pale face; the embarrassment and anticlimax was intense.
‘Megan…?’
Megan blinked before arranging her features into something approaching composure. Just what made you think he was going to say I want you? That was the last time she went into fantasy mode. The fact was if Luc had wanted her, he could have had her.
‘Fine.’
His eyes narrowed warily. ‘You don’t sound fine.’
‘Are you going to dissect every inflection in my voice?’ she demanded spikily.
He shrugged, and almost grinned. ‘Point taken.’ He leaned back into the squashy cushions of the sofa and, hands linked behind his head, looked at the ceiling.
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