by Ginna Gray
"Yeah. I'd be interested to know that myself," Reiliy had muttered, studying her with concern.
"I think we all would." Ryan's stern gaze sought their father, Uncle Joe and David, and all three men nodded.
Meghan was braced for the question. With the men in her family it had been inevitable.
Slick ladies' man, indeed. Blessed hell, she didn't know how Travis and Reilly had the gall to act so self-righteous, considering they had both had an eye for the ladies themselves before their marriages.
"You're awfully quiet, Meghan." Her father's frown grew darker. "Did that Morgan fella force himself on you, honey? By heaven, if he did, the bastard will answer to us!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, what're you all getting so bent out of shape about?" Amanda demanded. "Meghan's not a child, after all. Besides, I think the whole thing is romantic."
"So do I. Imagine being stranded all alone on a deserted island for months with Rhys Morgan." Abbey gave a delicious little shudder and rubbed her arms. "I get goose bumps just thinking about it."
Amanda's comment caused Reilly to pull his hand down over his face and sigh, but David shot Abbey an outraged look and barked, "Hey! This is Meghan we're talking about. And is that any way for a brand-new mother to talk?"
"Oh, pooh. I'm not dead you know. And stop growling."
Sitting on the arm of the chair occupied by his wife, Travis stroked her hair. "Thank heaven you've got more taste than to get all fluttery over some pretty-boy singer."
Rebecca tipped her head to one side and slanted him an amused look. "Actually, I agree with Amanda and Abbey."
That set off a heated discussion which pitted the daughters-in-law, Abbey, Rebecca, Tess and Amanda against the rest of the family. With the exception of Meghan, the only ones who tried to stay out of the fray were Max and Sam, Erin and Elise's husbands, but their attempt at neutrality merely earned them sharp criticism from their mates.
In typical Blaine/McCall family fashion, the argument was loud and spirited. As they all tried to outshout one another, Meghan shook her head and waited.
Finally, during a lull, she got her chance. "You can all quit fighting. Rhys did not force himself on me."
It wasn't a lie, she told herself, remembering that day at the waterfall. What had occurred between her and Rhys had been the result of mutual desire. It had been beautiful and thrilling, and no matter what happened, Meghan knew she would never regret their time together.
Reilly was still absorbed in the newspaper, and Meghan darted him an annoyed look. Why had he bothered to read the stupid article, anyway? By now he ought to be sick of them. She was.
She was fed up with all the publicity and hoopla and constant phone calls. Newspeople had beaten them home from Houston and had been swarming all over her parents' property when they had turned into the driveway. This past week the reporters and photographers had camped out in the yard until her brothers had run them off with a few shotgun blasts of rock salt. Even now the diehards were hovering around the perimeter of the property. Meghan hated to even go outside.
The very night of their return, videotape and photographs taken at the docks of Rhys and Larette Farraday had begun appearing on practically every television news program and in all the papers. Meghan's brothers, blast their hides, had noted each one with relish.
She told herself that the photos meant nothing. No doubt the whole thing was Quincy's doing, another of his relentless bids for publicity. Nevertheless, every time Meghan saw one of the photos she felt sick.
"It says here rumor has it there will soon be an engagement announced," Reilly went on.
Meghan wanted to scream at them not to believe it, that it was all publicity, but she bit her tongue.
"Really? Between Rhys and Larette?" Abbey asked in a surprised voice. Much to the displeasure of her two-and-a-half-month-old daughter Adrienne, she withdrew the bottle and lifted the infant up to her shoulder for a burp. Across the room, Rebecca, who was feeding Ariel, did the same. "That's funny. He didn't seem all that enamored of her to me."
"Don't believe everything you read in the paper," Amanda advised. "A lot of times that stuffs just publicity hype."
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Meghan chanted fervently in silence. She hadn't had time to get to know her newest sister-in-law very well yet, but at that moment she could have cheerfully kissed her.
A reporter and anchorwoman on the six o'clock news at a Houston TV station, Amanda was in a position to know such things, and Meghan hoped her comment would put a stop to the discussion. Her husband, however, wasn't that easily convinced.
"Oh yeah? Well, they sure look cozy to me. Here, take a look." Reilly gave the newspaper a flick and turned it for the others in the room to see.
Meghan expected to see the photo that had been flashed all over the world on the news-service wires, the one in which Larette was kissing Rhys as if she were trying to suck off his face. It was a disgusting shot, and every time Meghan saw it she felt a stab in her heart, but at least she knew that Rhys had not been a willing participant.
However, the blurry black-and-white photo in the newspaper had not been taken at the dock in Houston. Both Larette and Rhys were wearing formal clothes, and the caption beneath the picture read: Newly returned castaway, Rhys Morgan, and constant companion, supermodel Larette Farraday, arrive at the opening of the new Renwick Theater last night.
"My goodness," her Aunt Dorothy said from the sofa, where she and Meghan's mother were unwinding a skein of yarn. "You'd think by now the press would let the whole thing drop. It's been a week, after all."
"Naw, they'll milk it for all it's worth."
"In defense of my colleagues," Amanda said, shooting David an arch look, "Rhys Morgan is an international star. When a man that famous gets kidnapped, disappears for months, then reappears, it's a big deal."
"Only because it sells newspapers," Ryan taunted.
Meghan wanted to scream at them all to shut up. She couldn't take much more of this.
Everyone had been there the entire week, hovering over her, fussing over her. It was beginning to get on her nerves. She loved her family dearly, but it was time they all went home, herself included. Meghan knew they were trying to give her support and help her over the trauma of being kidnapped, and she appreciated their love and concern. She truly did. But they all had their own lives, and it was time to get back to them.
Most especially her. She needed to get away before someone guessed her secret. There was no longer any doubt; she was definitely pregnant.
Unconsciously, Meghan's hand splayed over her flat belly. She couldn't hide her condition forever, of course, but until she knew what the future held for her and Rhys, she did not want anyone to know. Not even him.
Especially not him. Rhys took responsibilities seriously. If he discovered she was carrying his child he would insist on marriage, whether or not he loved her.
"Hey, Aunt Meghan." Ryan's son, Mike, stuck his head around the parlor door. "Telephone for you." The sixteen-year-old waggled his eyebrows and grinned devilishly. "It's long-distance. And it's a man."
That got everyone's attention, and with a sigh Meghan rose. "It's probably my boss wanting to know when I'm coming back to work," she said, sweeping the curious faces with an exasperated look. "Either that or another pesky reporter."
She took the call in the little nook beneath the stairs, aware that every ear in the parlor was cocked to listen. Despite what she had told her family and the agreement she had coerced out of Rhys, a part of her hoped it would be him.
A moment later disappointment hit her when she heard Quincy's voice on the other end of the line.
"How are you, Meghan? I trust you've recovered from your ordeal?"
"Yes. I'm fine," she replied cautiously. She did not trust Quincy Westfield one bit, regardless of his cordial tone. Not for a minute did she believe he had called to inquire about her welfare.
Apparently Quincy sensed her leeriness. After a few seconds of silence she h
eard him sigh. "Look, Meghan, why don't I get right to the point?"
"I wish you would."
He gave a mirthless little chuckle. "Still as prickly and direct as ever, aren't you?"
"Shouldn't I be?"
"Probably. Although... I'm hoping we can have a temporary truce, since I'm calling on Rhys's behalf."
Her heart skipped a beat. "Rhys asked you to call me?"
"No. In fact, he'd probably take a swing at me if he knew about this conversation. Look, Meghan, I know we've had our differences in the past, but I think there is one thing we can agree on and that's that we both care about Rhys and want him to be happy. Am I right?"
"Yes," she agreed warily. "Go on."
"Well, the thing is.. .Rhys told me what happened between you two on the island."
"He told you?" Meghan closed her eyes and pressed her clenched fist against her abdomen. She felt sick.
'Yes. He told me everything. Under the circumstances it was inevitable that the two of you would become lovers, of course. And I suppose, given die romantic atmosphere and all, it was easy to convince yourselves that you were in love, but..."
"But?"
"Well...the thing is...since he's been back in New York and his life is back on track Rhys has realized that what happened between you two wasn't the real thing."
It was what she had feared all along, what she had suspected would happen. So why did it hurt so much? "I see."
"Mind you, he feels bad about it. Real bad. Actually, that's why I called. You see, Rhys cares deeply for Larette, but you know how he is. He's not a man to go back on his word. He feels so damn guilty about what happened with you on that island he's determined to do what he thinks is right. Even though it means giving up any hope of happiness with the woman he really loves, he plans to fly to Dallas soon and ask you to marry him."
The slicing pain was excruciating. Every word he spoke lacerated Meghan. Pressing her lips together, she tipped her head back and tried to blink back the tears, but they trickled from the corners of her eyes anyway. Speech was impossible, but Quincy did not seem to notice the painful silence on her end of the line. He went on in the same confiding tone.
"Poor Rhys. I've never seen him so miserable. It breaks my heart. I've tried to talk some sense into him, of course. We've had some real rows over this, but he won't budge, no matter what it costs him. Frankly, I'm at my wits' end. That's why I called you. I know you don't want to be responsible for ruining Rhys's life."
"You...you want me to refuse his proposal, don't you?" She had no idea how she got the question out. The tightness in her chest was so painful she could barely breathe. She felt as though she had an anvil stuck in her throat.
"Well, yes, but I doubt he will accept that you've simply changed your mind. I think you should tell him you've found someone else. And the sooner, the bettor. The poor guy's miserable. And I really don't think you should wait for him to come to you. It would be best if you called him."
"You want me to end it over the phone? Th-that seems so cold."
"Believe me, you'll be doing him a favor."
The words cut her to ribbons. She leaned her forehead against the wall and wished that she could die. "All.. .all right."
"You'll call him?"
"Yes."
"Tonight?"
She bit her lip to hold back a moan. No, not tonight. She couldn't do it tonight. She had to have time to pull herself together or he'd know she was lying. She needed privacy to make the call, so no one would hear or see her pain, and privacy was one thing that was in short supply among her family. "No, uh, I'm going home tomorrow. I'll call him then."
"Good, good. Believe me, you're doing the right thing, Meghan. And I just want you to know that you've earned my everlasting gratitude and respect. If there's ever anything I can do for you—"
"Goodbye, Quincy." Meghan hung up the telephone without waiting for the rest.
* * *
The next afternoon, after shoving her way through the small knot of paparazzi who had staked out her building, Meghan dragged herself up the steps to her apartment.
She let herself in, then dropped her briefcase on the floor and leaned back against the closed door. She swallowed hard and absorbed the emptiness, the hollow silence. Her throat ached and tears threatened, but she willed them back.
During the long night just past she had cried buckets of tears, but she had vowed that she would shed no more.
After being closed up for months, her apartment smelled like the inside of a vacuum cleaner. Meghan pushed away from the door. The curtains were all drawn, but she did not bother to open them. Wandering through the gloom, she went into the living room and sank down onto the sofa and rested her nape and shoulders against the cushioned back. She felt weary and heartsick and so tired she could barely move.
No small wonder, after a sleepless night of crying and a battle with her entire family this morning. They hadn't taken well the news that she was returning home.
"But you can't. It's too soon," her mother had wailed.
"Damn right, she can't."
"I won't hear of it."
"Not on your life!"
"No way!"
Her father and brothers had blurted out their objections in unison, all glowering at her as though she were a naughty child. Even her sisters-in-law sided with them this time.
"Meghan, do you have to go back?" Rebecca asked gently.
"Why don't you give yourself more time?" Tess urged, placing her hand over Meghan's where it lay curled on the breakfast-room table. "You've been through a traumatic ordeal and you need the rest."
"If it's your job you're worried about, I'm sure your boss will understand if you stay longer." This from Amanda, the dedicated career woman.
"I'm fine. Honestly, I am." Meghan had felt as if she'd been run over by a Mac truck, but she'd forced a smile. "Actually, life on the island was simple and quite enjoyable. I've felt like a fraud lolling about all week, as it is. Besides, if I don't get back to work soon I'll go nuts."
They had argued more, but Meghan had refused to budge.
The drive from Crockett to Dallas in the rental car had been made in a blur of anguish and pain, her heart so heavy she barely noticed the miles slipping by.
Meghan glanced at the telephone on her desk. Dread overwhelmed her, but she steeled herself and rose to retrieve the notebook that contained Rhys's private number from her briefcase. Waiting wouldn't make the task any easier.
He answered on the third ring, and though his barked "Hello" was filled with impatience, her heart squeezed at the sound of his voice.
"Rhys... I..." Her aching throat closed up on her, and she gripped the receiver tighter and closed her eyes.
"Meghan? Is that you?" All trace of gruffness vanished.
"Y-yes. It's me," she finally managed to whisper.
"Ah, sweetheart, it's good to hear your voice. But to tell you the truth, I'm surprised, since the month's not up yet. Does this mean you've changed your mind about that silly agreement?"
"Yes, I guess you could say that." Drawing a deep bream, she steeled herself for what she had to say. "I called to tell you that there's really no point in waiting a month to see how we fed. As I suspected, once we were bade in the real world it didn't take long for me to realize that I was mistaken about my feelings for you. The truth is, I don't love you, Rhys. I guess it was just the circumstances and the isolation that made me think I did."
There was a heartbeat of taut silence. Then his angry, "I don't believe you. I know damned well you love me.
"There's something going on that you're not telling me. Isn't there?"
"No. Really."
"Oh, yes, there is. I'm coming down there right now and we're going to settle this face-to-face."
"Rhys, no! Please don't do that" If Rhys confronted her in person she'd never be able to bide her true feelings. . For an instant she considered taking Quincy's advice, but she could not bring herself to tell him that she loved someone else
. Instead, she squared her shoulders and forced a clipped iciness to her voice. "Believe me, you would be wasting your time, Rhys. I'm sorry, but I simply don't love you. What we felt was merely an illusion, but it's over now. It's best that we just leave it at that."
"Meghan-"
"If you come, I won't see you, Rhys. I mean it."
For several seconds all she heard was his harsh breathing. "I see. If that's how you really feel, I guess—"
"It is."
Another pause followed. "Very well. I won't bother you again. Goodbye, Meghan."
"Goodbye, Rhys."