The Pregnancy Discovery

by Barbara Hannay

  In the glow of a street light, her eyes shimmered as she looked cautiously up at him. Her slightly parted lips looked rounded, soft and sweet.

  He lowered his head.

  ‘Sam,’ Meg whispered, ‘there are people around!’

  Of course there were.

  With his lips millimetres from hers, he paused, then lifted his head again. What was he thinking of? There were car doors opening and shutting all around them. A dozen pairs of curious eyes had swivelled in their direction. He contented himself with sliding his thumb softly across her lower lip. She was petal soft…and she didn’t pull away.

  ‘Is it pregnancy that makes you softer and lovelier than ever?’ he asked.

  He heard her surprised gasp. She looked as if she wanted to cry.

  Hastily he dropped his hand and opened the passenger door for her. And, as he hurried around to the driver’s side, he cursed himself for a fool. His brains had dropped below his belt. If there was any way he was going to work out where he and Meg were heading, it wasn’t by trying to get her back into bed.

  Meg spent the next twenty minutes giving herself a long, silent lecture while Sam drove through the quiet back streets towards her home. Heavens, she was a lustful beast. And a foolish one. Sam had only to drop one little compliment— one tiny compliment—and she was ready to hurl herself into his arms.

  Hadn’t she learned anything since last May? Listening to his appealing sweet-talk had got her into this mess in the first place.

  If only she didn’t feel so physically attracted to him. She had expected that being pregnant would provide her with a measure of protection from his sex appeal. But she’d only had to compare him with every other man she’d seen in the past few days to know that he was one in a million. And that he still had the power to make her want him.

  She’d felt a curious pride in him tonight. A feeling, she realised now, that she wasn’t in any way entitled to enjoy. Sam might be the baby’s father, but he didn’t belong to her. Nor she to him. They had made a mistake, but they’d both agreed that, once the baby was born, they had to get on with their separate lives.

  They were a contemporary couple. They weren’t victims of the old rules that insisted that a couple expecting a baby should marry.

  She tried to picture their future.

  Ten years from now, Sam would pop over from the States for their son’s birthday. He would bring his charming American wife and their handsome, intelligent children. Meg would probably be married to someone else and she and her husband might have a child of their own.

  They would be the kind of patchwork family that existed quite happily all over the place these days. The various adults and children would all be thoroughly nice to each other.

  Everyone would marvel at how well they all got on.

  A new millennium family.

  It was only when the lights of the houses they passed began to grow fuzzy that Meg realised she was crying. Surreptitiously, she blotted her tears with her sleeve. Why did such a practical and sensible, realistic picture of the future make her feel so sad?

  She stole a sneak look at Sam. Illuminated by passing street lights, his profile wrenched her heart. Every little detail seemed utterly perfect—the jut of his nose, the sensual swell of his lips, the dark line of his jaw. Having him around—seeing him again—that was her problem. She’d never had an ounce of will-power where he was concerned.

  Once this baby was born and he was gone, she would be able to get on with her life once more. She held on to that thought.

  He brought the car to a stop outside her house and jumped out quickly, coming around to open her door. When he helped her out, she formed her lips to say the words good night. But she made the mistake of looking up.

  And the look in his eyes stilled the words.

  Meg’s heart raced. He was standing close to her, their gazes locked. Under her ribs, her baby sent out a ferocious kick.

  ‘What was that?’ Sam stepped back a little.

  ‘The baby.’

  ‘Wow! The little guy kicks that hard?’ He lifted his hand. ‘Would you—would it be all right if I felt him?’

  How could she refuse? Taking his hand in hers, she placed it high on her stomach, exactly on the spot where the baby’s foot always lay. Sensing the pressure, the little foot kicked again.

  ‘Way to go, kid!’ he exclaimed. ‘That’s a powerful kick. It’s incredible.’

  Meg’s breath felt trapped in her throat. It felt ridiculously right to have his warm, strong hand there, under hers, cradling their baby.

  His face was so close. Any minute, any second now, he might try to kiss her again. And if he didn’t, she realised with a shock, she might go ahead and kiss him anyhow. Oh, how she wanted one or two of his kisses—his long and slow, sexy kisses right now. She’d been on her own for so long.

  ‘Nutmeg,’ he growled.

  Strangely, it was the huskiness, the unmistakable shudder of desire in his voice that brought her to her senses, as sharply as a reprimand. The fact that he was wanting her as much as she longed for him, reminded her that this was a very dangerous game she was playing—getting close to Sam for just a little while.

  She mustn’t make the same mistake as last time.

  Stepping quickly to one side, she drew away from him. Desperately, she struggled to think of something to say that had nothing to do with mouths or kissing. ‘Would you like to see the ultrasound pictures of the baby?’ she blurted out.

  He stood, looking a little puzzled, his breathing a touch ragged. Sticking his thumbs into the loops of his jeans, he dropped his head to one side as he studied her carefully. ‘Why not?’ he asked at last. ‘As long as it comes with a cup of hot chocolate and some marshmallows.’

  Meg fumbled in her bag for her door key. ‘Hot chocolate and a baby video,’ she said with a shaky little laugh. ‘What an exciting life Seattle’s favourite bachelor leads these days.’

  Seattle’s favourite bachelor.

  As he followed Meg into her house, the words echoed in Sam’s head. If only she knew the half of it. The press’s image of him as a playboy bachelor had died a quick and painless death in the past six months. Journalists had hovered around him for a few weeks after his return from Australia. When they discovered that he spent all his days and a hefty chunk of his nights closeted in his office, they pestered him for an explanation, but he sent them packing with a few cutting comments and they soon gave up.

  He wondered how Meg would react if he told her the truth about his lack of social life since he’d seen her last. She probably wouldn’t believe it.

  It was rather unbelievable, he reflected now. If anyone asked him to explain why he’d given up dating other women since he returned to Seattle, he would be hard pressed to find a plausible answer. But the old appetite just wasn’t there any more. A pretty woman was just that—a pretty woman. She wasn’t—

  ‘Here’s the video,’ Meg said, thrusting a slim rectangular box into his hand. ‘You set it up, while I make the hot chocolate.’ She hurried away into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, ‘But don’t start without me. I’ll need to explain it to you.’

  He had everything ready when Meg reappeared carrying steaming mugs topped with fluffy pink marshmallows. They were almost overflowing. She set them down carefully on the coffee table beside some marine biology textbooks and then she fished two spoons out of her pocket.

  ‘For scooping up the yummy bits,’ she explained. She took a seat on the sofa beside him. ‘Can I have the remote? I’ll need to stop and start so I can explain.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Sam dragged his gaze from the enticing vision of her flushed cheeks, dancing eyes and golden curls to the fuzzy black-and-white screen. At first, the video made no sense to him at all.

  Meg pointed. ‘Look, that little row of things like tiny rectangles shows the baby’s spine. These are his fingers. Aren’t they cute?’ She gave a little giggle.

  Fascinated, Sam hunched forward with his e
lbows resting on his knees. This was his son. A miraculous fusion of his and Meg’s bodies.

  ‘And there’s his heart,’ Meg was saying, her voice vibrating with hushed, happy warmth. ‘You can see it beating.’

  He located the tiny pulsating blob. ‘It’s so strong,’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s beating at a hundred and thirty-six beats to the minute,’ Meg elaborated, totally unaware of how radiant and utterly delicious she looked. ‘Apparently that’s a great speed for babies.’

  ‘What about fathers?’

  Her eyes shot to link with his. Her mouth rounded and stayed open as if she was going to ask a question, but changed her mind. She dampened her lower lip with her tongue.

  Sam groaned.

  ‘What about fathers, Sam?’ she repeated his question.

  ‘This one’s heart has been galloping at a rate of knots all evening.’

  ‘Oh.’

  The urges that raged within him were frightening. He needed to pull Meg against him, to crush those soft pink lips against his and to plunder her beautiful, blossoming body. For most of the evening, he’d been envisaging a whole range of preposterous fantasies. All of them impossible.

  And Meg wasn’t helping things any. She was leaning towards him, looking flushed and making soft, breathy little sounds. Her eyes were grey pools with silver sparkles, like sunlight glinting off water.

  If he didn’t know better, he could swear she was inching closer, willing him to kiss her. But kissing Meg would be more temptation than he could handle right at this point in time. Like toppling dominoes, one thing would lead to another to…total disaster.

  Meg was trusting him to keep his distance. He had promised her…

  And he didn’t know anything about making love to a pregnant woman. He was scared witless that he might actually hurt her if he stayed a minute longer. He jumped to his feet. ‘That video was great…great to see the little guy. He looks in wonderful shape. But I’d better head off now. Let you get your beauty sleep.’

  ‘What about your chocolate?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Thanks.’ Scooping up the mug, he downed the drink in a long, scalding draught. Bits of marshmallow stuck to his lips and, chewing them off, he headed for the door.

  ‘Thanks for coming to the class,’ she called after him as he backed down her front steps.

  ‘My pleasure,’ he called back before vaulting her front gate and jogging to his car. Seconds later, he was accelerating down her street. In his rear-vision mirror he could see Meg standing in the yellow pool of light on her front porch, holding her front door open with one hand as she peered after him. The other hand was raised as if she’d been thinking about waving to him.

  She looked so all alone.

  He flicked his gaze back to the road and told himself that alone was exactly how Meg Bennet wanted to be.

  With flaming cheeks, Meg watched the twin red tail lights disappear around the street corner. What on earth had come over her? She’d been cosying up to Sam on the sofa and had been seriously thinking about seducing him.

  She’d wanted to get closer to the tantalising scent of him. She had visions of tracing her tongue over the dark shadow of his jaw, teasing him into kissing her. She had even imagined undoing the buttons of his denim shirt and sliding her hand over the hard planes of his chest.

  Thank goodness her whale-like figure had put him off. The way he’d made a beeline for her front door had hardly been flattering, but at least it had saved her from making a foolish mistake.

  If they had begun to kiss, or to do any of the dozen other things her febrile brain had been considering, all of her other carefully framed plans would have been ruined. She could hardly have her lustful way with Sam again and then insist on keeping him at arm’s length for the rest of her life.

  After standing, staring into the night for a long time, she wandered back into the house. Her cooled cup of chocolate was sitting on the coffee table. The pink marshmallows had melted and had begun to dissolve. They no longer looked tempting. The video had run through and her blank television screen cast a fuzzy light into the room.

  Damn Sam! Up until now, she’d been managing so well on her own. She’d pushed him right to the back of her mind over the past months and she had become completely absorbed with her baby. She hadn’t needed anyone else. All her emotions had been taken up by her growing son.

  Almost every magazine she picked up these days carried a story about single mothers—fiercely independent women, loving their lives, free of the need to divide their loyalty between their baby and a man.

  And now, here was Sam, back in her life, looking divine, charming her senseless, making her want him and totally messing her up again.

  Switching off the television, she gathered up the mugs and carried them through to the kitchen where she washed them and left them on the sink to drain. Then she drifted through the darkened house towards the room she’d prepared for the baby.

  She was proud of the mural of brightly coloured sea creatures she’d created along one wall and she’d continued the theme with a sea horse and starfish mobile. The remaining walls were sand-coloured, the carpet a soft blue like the sea on a summer’s day and the furnishings were the crisp white of foam-tipped waves.

  Running her hand along the glossy white rail of the cot, she tried to picture her baby curled up asleep.

  Thinking about her baby boy, rather than his father, Meg felt calmer again. Through the window, she could see the river, where the moonlight spread its luminescent glow across the silken black water. This was a nice little home for him to grow up in. They would be happy here.

  She and her little boy would be close, just as she’d been with her father. She blocked out other memories of her childhood: when she’d longed to be part of a larger family—with two parents and some brothers or sisters.

  Lifting her arms to her hair, she removed the elastic band and pins and shook her curls free. She turned to walk down the passage to her bedroom. But she had only taken three steps, when she felt a cramp, low in her belly.

  And the next minute her tights were all wet.

  Sam pushed open the heavy glass doors of his hotel and made his way across the foyer. In the time he’d taken to drive from Meg’s he hadn’t cooled down any, so he could look forward to another sleepless night.

  ‘Mr Kirby?’ A woman at the reception desk beckoned to him. ‘Someone’s on the line asking for you. Been trying to call you for the past ten minutes.’

  Sam nodded. ‘I’ll take the call in my room.’

  Frowning, the woman raised a frayed fingernail to her lips and gave it a hurried chew. ‘Actually, maybe you should take it here. She sounds kind of desperate.’

  ‘She?’ In two strides he was at the counter almost grabbing the receiver out of the woman’s hand. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Sam?’ Meg’s voice sounded tiny.

  ‘Meg, what is it?’

  ‘You turned off your mobile.’

  He grabbed the machine from his hip pocket. ‘I turned it off at the class. But anyway, why have you rung?’

  ‘My water’s broken.’

  A jolt of adrenaline rushed through him so fast he had to grab the desk for support. Slapping his hand over the mouthpiece, he whispered to the receptionist, ‘Her waters have broken.’

  The woman’s eyes bulged. ‘She’s needs to get to a hospital straight away.’

  ‘You need to get to a hospital straight away,’ he told Meg.

  ‘I know that, Sam.’

  ‘Can you hold on till I get back to your place?’

  ‘I—I guess so. Yes. I’m sure I can.’

  ‘OK. I’m coming, sweetheart. Listen, the mobile’s back on now. We can keep in contact while I’m on my way. Hang up and I’ll ring you back.’

  He almost threw the receiver at the receptionist and dashed back out through the hotel doors to the car park. Once he had his car heading back down the highway towards Meg’s place, he phoned her. ‘How you doing?’

  ‘OK. I�
�m getting contractions.’

  ‘Are they strong?’

  ‘Fairly. About three minutes apart.’

  ‘Three minutes!’ Sweat broke out all over Sam. ‘Maybe we should get an ambulance.’

  ‘I’d rather wait for you.’

  He accelerated. ‘Are you remembering to relax?’ he managed to ask. ‘Are you doing your deep breathing?’

  There was a silence at the other end.

  ‘Meg?’

  ‘No, I haven’t been very relaxed,’ she said and he thought she sounded weepy. ‘I guess I panicked.’

  ‘That’s OK, honey,’ he murmured, as he manoeuvred a sudden curve. ‘You can do it, now. Do it just like you did at the class tonight. You’re terrific at it.’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Thanks. I forgot. Oh, there’s another one coming.’

  He heard a little gasp and then the sound of deep, slow breathing. ‘That sounds real good, Nutmeg.’ He pulled up at traffic lights, his stomach a bunch of knots. This baby was coming a few weeks early. He hoped like crazy everything was all right. Pounding his fist against the steering wheel, he cursed the red light. ‘Change, damn you! I can’t hang around all night.’

  ‘Sam?’ Meg’s voice came through again.

  ‘I’m right here. How are you?’

  ‘A lot better. Thanks for reminding me to breathe. I forgot all about it, I was so scared.’

  The lights changed and he took off once more, taking full advantage of his sports car’s ability to duck and weave through the traffic, while cursing the fact that they drove on the wrong side of the road down under. ‘That’s what I’m here for,’ he replied, trying to sound a whole heap calmer than he felt. ‘Now, do you have your hospital bag packed and ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good girl.’

  ‘Are you comfortable?’

  ‘Hardly. I feel like I’ve got a coconut pressing down inside me.’

  ‘That’ll be the baby’s head. That’s good, Meg. It means everything is at it should be.’ Where he’d got that information from, Sam wasn’t sure, but it seemed to reassure Meg.