Eagerly but gently, Michael pressed his fingers exactly as the doctor had as he glanced at Meghan’s face. There was no amusement in his expression now, only wonder and reverence at what was growing inside her body.
Minutes later they shared their feelings of overpowering awe as they sat and listened to the steady thumping of their baby’s heart once again.
“That’s incredible,” uttered Michael as a slow grin spread across his face.
“That it is,” agreed the doctor. “Even after all these years,” he said with an indulgent smile. “As far as I’m concerned, there’s still nothing in this world that beats a birthing. Now that’s what I’d call a natural high,” he said with a laugh. “You’ll be going to the Lamaze classes, won’t you?” he asked Michael.
“Of course,” agreed Michael readily, purposely avoiding Meghan’s angry glare.
“Good. Good. My youngest daughter-in-law teaches the class at the hospital. I think you’ll both enjoy it.”
“I’m sure we will,” answered Michael.
“Mr. Shay, nice meeting you. I’m always glad to see a father get involved in the birth of his child. There’s a special bond that develops in the first few seconds of life, and I’ve always thought the fathers ought to get in on it. Call if you have a problem, Meghan,” he said, and then he left.
“No!” Meghan said emphatically when the door closed. “I told you before, Lucy’s going to be my partner.”
“That’s fine,” he agreed. “But I’ll go to the classes with you so we can practice at home. The books I’ve read all say you have to practice, otherwise your concentration will be broken too easily. You want to do this right, don’t you?”
“Yes, but …”
“Well, how will I be able to help if I don’t know what to do?” he asked, breaking into her objection. “You want to be prepared when Lucy gets here and it’s time to deliver our baby, don’t you?” he questioned, letting her think whatever she wanted to, knowing that he would be her partner … in all things, including the birth of their baby.
She sighed her defeat loudly, while Michael smirked his victory.
That evening Aunt Kate called.
“Who is the young man that answered the phone, dear? His voice is divine. Where’s he from? Texas?” was her aunt’s salutation when Meghan came on the line.
“Yes, he is. His name is Michael Ramsey. He’s visiting,” she spoke loud enough for Michael to hear. “When are you coming home? How is Freddy doing?”
“Not well at all, dear,” her aunt said sympathetically. “Last week he caught pneumonia. He’s much better now, but it left him as weak as a kitten. I would hate to leave him like this, and of course, he’ll need help when he goes home. Are you all right, dear? Will your friend be in town a little longer? I don’t like thinking about you being alone. Your time is drawing near.”
“I’m fine, Aunt Kate,” Meghan assured her. “Please don’t worry about me.”
Michael passed by her on his way to the kitchen for more coffee and winked at her. He signaled that he was pleased her aunt wouldn’t be back too soon.
“Then your friend is staying a while?” her aunt pursued.
“Well, I don’t know,” she put her off vaguely.
“I’m sure he would if he knew the circumstances. He has such a nice, kind voice. Is he tall?”
“Yes, Aunt Kate, he is tall.” She heard a rumbling chuckle from the kitchen.
“Do you think he’ll stay with you until I get back?” Aunt Kate was nothing, if not persistent.
“I don’t know, Aunt Kate. I suppose so.” Meghan rolled her eyes skyward fatalistically.
“Would it be easier for you if I asked him to stay. I know how proudly independent you are, but you really should have someone with you, dear.”
Meghan turned to the wall and lowered her voice. “No. No. You don’t need to ask him. I’ll …”
“Ask me what?” whispered Michael in her other ear.
Startled, she swung around to look into his face. Their gazes held, hers cautious, his jovial, as he reached out and gently took the phone from her.
Michael exchanged pleasantries with Aunt Kate while watching Meghan. During the ensuing conversation the laughter in his eyes was joined by something more—a deep affection and possessiveness that sent tingles racing up and down Meghan’s spine. She had seen it often in the past few weeks and was leery of it. She knew she shouldn’t let him think their relationship was permanent, but she couldn’t seem to help herself as her eyes mirrored his emotions.
“Yes, she certainly is,” he was saying. “I agree completely. … No, no problem at all. I’ve a lot of spare time right now, and there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. … I’m a publisher. … Oh, yes. I make plenty of money. … I know she is. …” He nodded and winked at Meghan. “If that’s all right with you, Kate. … Oh, completely honorable. … Yes, I do. … I will. I promise. And you just relax and take good care of Freddy. Meghan’s in good hands. I’ll take good care of her.”
Michael hung up the phone, never once taking his gaze off Meghan’s face. He reached out one big hand and laid it on Meghan’s cheek. He tenderly caressed her skin with his thumb, savoring its warmth and softness. Meghan’s heart beat accelerated and she opened her mouth slightly to draw in extra air. She felt bound in gentle tethers as she stood looking up into his face. Against her better judgment, she wanted him to kiss her. She wanted him to take her in his strong arms and never let her go. She needed him to love her. She craved his touch and longed to touch him in return.
Michael stood looking down at Meghan, reading her like a book. He realized he wanted more than her body, he wanted her trust, her love. He would possess her soul as she did his.
“Your Aunt Kate is my kind of lady,” he said in a tight voice, breaking the spell. “She told me to feel free to move in here with you. As long as I’ll be watching out for you, it would be more convenient that way.”
“Ha,” she snorted, turning away in disappointment. “Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world is conspiring against me.”
“Maybe you should learn to trust the people who care for you. Our motives wouldn’t seem so suspicious then,” he said, following her into the living room.
She turned on him in surprise. “What makes you think I don’t trust you?” she blurted.
“You want a list?” he challenged.
She considered him for several seconds, then she warned him, “Has it ever occurred to you, Michael, that maybe I’m the one you can’t trust, but that I might care enough about you to want to save you from a great deal of pain?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. Her heart was filled with despair, and she could feel the tears welling in her eyes. She turned and beat a hasty retreat to her room, slamming the door behind her, a clear message that she didn’t want to see him.
True to form, Michael ignored her message. This was the closest she’d ever come to expressing her feelings verbally, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by. If making her angry was what it took, so be it.
The door crashed open, and Michael stomped into her room. Meghan lay on her back on the bed, one arm flung over her eyes to keep from looking at him.
“What the hell was that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
“Go away, Michael,” she pleaded.
“No,” he said vehemently. He came to the edge of the bed and bent down. Taking her by the upper arms, he lifted her off the bed and made her face him. “Tell me,” he shouted fiercely, as he gave her a little shake.
“It means I love you, you stupid buffoon,” she shouted back at him. “It means you’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me and I’ve ruined it. It means that if you knew more about me, you’d be hurt and hate me forever. And I couldn’t bear that,” she cried as she burst into tears.
“Ah, Meghan,” he whispered, taking her into his arms. “You’ll never have to. Nothing you could ever do would make me hate you. You can make me angry at the
drop of a hat, that’s for certain, but you can’t make me hate you. I love you too much.”
“You weren’t listening to me,” she sobbed her protest into his chest.
“Yes, I was. You love me. And I love you,” he said simply. “Nothing else you said matters.”
“But it does.” She looked into his exultant blue eyes. “I’ve done something that’s going to hurt you terribly. Why can’t you understand that if I let you stay with me, if we go on together, you’ll end up hating me?”
“We’ve covered that, darlin’! I love you. I’m not going to leave you. What we have comes once in a lifetime. Whatever terrible thing you’ve done, we can work out together,” he explained, his mind made up. “Shh. Let’s not worry about anything right now. Let’s just enjoy each other. Let’s just enjoy being in love.”
Meghan stared at him, then shook her head. “You’re going to be sorry, but I’m too tired to argue anymore,” she said wearily.
“Good. Now get undressed and we’ll go to bed.”
“What?” she squealed.
Michael grinned. “I’m going to hold you all night while you sleep. I’ve been cooped up in this house for weeks afraid to touch you for fear that you’d run off to Timbuktu. Now that I know I can, by God, I’m going to.”
“No,” Meghan stated firmly. She knew the risk of sleeping with him even if he didn’t. If he found out that she’d selected him purposely to impregnate her, like he’d pick a bull for his cows or a stud for his mares, he’d murder her. To let him love her and go on as if everything were normal would only compound his hurt in the end.
“Oh, yes,” he clarified, his speech thick with passion, as he slipped his arms around her ever-expanding waistline and pulled her close. “Tonight, all night. And tomorrow night and the night after that. Meghan, I love you. Not touching you, holding you, or being able to show my love for you has been killing me by inches.”
“But, …” she muttered, her heart painfully crashing against her ribs, her soul vacillating between ecstasy and despair.
“No buts about it, darlin’,” he murmured as he tried to sway her indecision with soft, feathery kisses.
He nibbled at the corner of her mouth and blazed a trail of heat down her neck before he felt her body begin to relax. He placed tender, adoring kisses on her forehead and eyes and both cheeks, before he took her mouth and masterfully extracted a moan of surrender from her.
Meghan halfheartedly attempted to fight him, but was lost with the first kiss. Every cell of her body, every vaporous thought in her mind, every beat of her heart belonged to Michael. She longed for his touch, craved his kisses, needed to have him near her.
Her guilt was shuffled to the recesses of her consciousness as sensation and desire took over. Promises of telling him the whole truth fluttered by briefly before Michael consumed her completely, and she could contain herself no longer.
Meghan’s world began to spin as Michael began to undress her with his big, warm hands. Slowly, as if in a dream, he peeled away her clothes, caressing and kissing every newly exposed inch of her as if paying homage to her beauty.
Of their own volition, her own hands removed Michael’s sweater and unbuttoned his shirt so that Meghan could take in the power of his broad shoulders, relish the sinew of his bare arms, and thrill to the erratic rhythm of his heart.
Their lovemaking was long, slow, and mutual. When Michael finally took her, he positioned her body astride his and eased himself into her. He watched her intently for any sign of pain or discomfort. What he saw was her flushed skin, her ragged breathing, her passion-glazed eyes. She moaned her pleasure from deep within her chest. Her pupils were dilated and greener than ever as her head lolled forward and she groaned, “Michael, please.”
Slowly, he began to thrust upward. When he was sure he caused pleasure, not pain, he relinquished his control and took his own delicious gratification.
Meghan’s world began to spin again until its revolutions became a black swirling mist through which she could see nothing, only feel. Bright lights within her reach beckoned her forward, closer and closer until she could experience their intense heat. For one brief moment of ecstasy, she became one with the light and it shone brighter than ever before. Then she fell away and floated peacefully back to life.
Strong, sure hands lowered her gently to the bed and folded her into a muscled embrace.
They lay silently for a long time, savoring their closeness, yet they were worlds apart. Michael was in heaven. Now that he’d broken through her wall and she had admitted to loving him, all he had to do was convince her to share the rest of her life with him. And he was an optimistic kind of guy, thinking the worst was over.
Meghan, on the other hand, had returned to her own private hell once the haze of passion had lifted. She couldn’t let him continue to think the baby was just some wonderful accident. After all, it wasn’t an out-and-out lie, simply a slight omission of the facts. All right, a gross omission, but did he have to know everything? Yes, he did, and she needed to tell him if they were ever to have a life together. But how would he react? Being used and lied to wasn’t exactly the compliment of the year. Could he understand her motives? Could he ever forgive her? She shivered at the thought of his hatred.
“Cold?” Michael asked as he pressed a warm kiss to her temple. He sat up to pull the covers over her naked body.
“A little,” she uttered, cuddling into the warmth of the blankets, suddenly exhausted from the mental and physical strain of their loving.
Michael got up and rummaged through her dresser drawers, finally returning with the flannel gown he’d discovered once before.
“Here, darlin’, put this on, and we’ll keep you cozy all night,” he said, as he helped her to sit up and get into the gown.
“Michael,” Meghan started, feeling compelled to speak by his gentleness and caring. “There’s more I need to tell you. I …”
“Shh,” he cautioned her. He could tell by her face that whatever she was about to say wasn’t good, and he didn’t want to hear it at this particular moment. He was too happy, too hopeful. There was time enough to deal with little problems now that their major obstacle had been overcome. A whole lifetime. “Go to sleep, darlin’. We’ll talk in the morning. Tonight I just want to hold you.”
And he did. Wrapped in a long flannel nightgown and Michael’s arms, Meghan slept like a baby. Michael didn’t succumb to his exhaustion for quite a while. Having her in his arms at last, he lay awake and planned a future for Meghan and the baby and himself.
A week later Connie showed up, unannounced, for a visit. Meghan hadn’t had a chance, as yet, to tell Michael about her deliberate seduction of him the night they first met. Every time she thought she had the nerve to tell him, he’d say or do something to interrupt her. Meghan was a little anxious at first when Connie showed up, hoping his disapproval of her actions wouldn’t tip Michael off to the truth somehow. She wanted to be the one to tell him in her own way.
Connie was his old, loving self again, and he didn’t seem at all surprised when he found out Michael had moved in with her. He later explained this to Meghan in the kitchen, while he got Michael and himself another beer and mentioned purposefully that he’d talked to Lucy recently. He even went so far as to tell her he was glad that Michael was the father of her baby.
In fact, she was a little jealous of the way Michael and Connie got along so well. They rooted for opposite teams in the football game on television that afternoon. In the evening they cheered together for the same basketball team. In between games they bragged about their own athletic prowess. They talked hunting and cars and hockey and rodeos.
Meghan was sure that when she went to her room for a nap, the first in a week without Michael, they didn’t even know she was gone.
“How’s she doing?” Connie leaned over to ask Michael the question in a low voice when he heard her bedroom door close.
Michael grinned. “I think she’s mad because you didn’t ask her tha
t question, but she’s fine. The doctor thinks it’s going to be a big baby, but with her build, she shouldn’t have any problems.”
Connie looked relieved, then sat back in his chair. He studied the air between him and the ceiling for several seconds, and as if speaking his thoughts out loud, he said, “Can you believe her doing that? I mean, wanting a baby is one thing, but to methodically interview and choose the perfect father, and then proceed to seduce a perfect stranger, takes a hell of a lot of nerve. To say nothing of how crazy a thing it was to do,” he finished, as if he still couldn’t believe it was true.
The silence grew ominous. Connie slowly turned to Michael and was astonished to see the thunderstruck look on his very pale face. He knew instantly he had blundered.
“Oh, Lord,” he said, and then, agitated beyond words, Connie repeated his prayer.
The two men stared at one another, one in horror, the other in disbelief. It was the former who found enough words in his head for a complete sentence.
“I thought she’d told you everything.” He paused. “You two seemed so tight, I thought she’d told you and you’d worked it all out,” he explained.
“No, she didn’t, so maybe you’d better,” Michael said sharply.
“She’ll kill me,” cried Connie.
“Then you’re in a no-win situation, my friend,” the dazed Texan promised dangerously.
Connie heaved the sigh of a doomed man and began telling Michael of Meghan’s ambition to have a baby. He told of how she had meticulously planned and executed her scheme. Connie went on to Michael about how she’d gone to the Essex House the summer before and systematically picked out men attending a physics symposium to interview. Meghan had disguised herself as a sociologist or psychologist or something, he said, and when she had finally found the man she thought would be perfect to father her child, she brazenly had set out to seduce him. Connie went so far as to detail her care to make sure the man was from out of town so that she’d never see him again. She hadn’t even asked his name. Finally, he tacked on the facts that once she was sure it had worked, she arranged to get time off from work and hired a housekeeper in preparation for the main event.
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