Divine Design (15 page)

She threw her package on the coffee table and flopped down into an armchair.

“You know,” she said observantly, “you are an incredible man. Not only do you sic a bloodhound on my tail in New York, but you follow me here after I went to a lot of trouble to keep my whereabouts from you. What does it take to give you the brush-off?” she asked curtly. “I’ll kill Lucy for telling you.”

“Lucy didn’t have any choice. I’m twice her height and outweigh her five or six times over. Besides, she loves you. She wants what’s best for you too,” he said. Ignoring her very unladylike snort of distaste, he went on, “As to my inability to get a message, it would depend on the reason the woman had for brushing me off. If I am repulsive to her, which I don’t think is the case here, I’d pick up on it right away and leave. However, if she’s trying to get rid of me so she can wallow in self-pity over some little problem she’s got, that’s something else. I’m a firm believer in the adage that two heads are better than one when it comes to problem solving,” he told her in a firm but gentle tone.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Michael,” she told him tersely. “The only thing you can do for my little problem now, is make it worse.”

He just grinned at her, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Go get out of that getup and into something comfortable, and well have a nice, long talk.”

Meghan stared at him for several seconds. Why was she continually besieged by optimistic people? Was she the only one who could recognize hopelessness when it came up and slapped her in the face?

Although the outfit she had on was perfectly comfortable, albeit a little too warm, she could see she was going to have to deal with this situation once and for all. And Michael wasn’t going to make it easy for her.

She sighed loudly and heaved herself out of the chair. “You want some tea?” she asked offhandedly.

“I’d rather have coffee, if it’s no trouble,” he said politely.

“It’s no trouble,” she said with an indifferent wave of her hand. “Because you’ll have to make it yourself. I don’t cook coffee yet.”

“You don’t cook?” he asked, his surprise obvious. “Is that why you have the housekeeper?”

Meghan had disappeared down a hallway. Her muffled voice could barely be heard. “No, I don’t cook. Not yet, anyway. And I have a housekeeper to keep house. Lucy says I remind her of Pigpen, the comic strip character? She says that there’s a little cloud of dirt and debris that follows me everywhere I go.” There was a pause, followed by some muted noises from the bedroom.

Michael had made his way to the kitchen and had found the percolator when he heard her say, “I don’t usually buy anything white because it gets dirty before I get it home. I’ve always been sort of amazed at how messy I am. I don’t feel like a slob.”

Mentally, Michael scratched “domestic” off his list. He finally found the coffee and began making the much needed brew.

“Would you still like some tea?” he called.

“No.”

“Where’s your aunt?” he inquired loudly.

“She’s in Bristol, taking care of a sick friend,” Meghan answered with humor in her voice.

A good sign, Michael thought hopefully. She was warming up.

“How long will she be gone?” He tried keeping the conversation light.

“I’m not sure; a month, maybe two.”

Meghan was sitting on the edge of her bed, procrastinating. Having Michael there in the house was like a wonderful nightmare. She savored the sound of his voice and the thrill of having him so close by. The longer she put off her appearance in the kitchen, the longer he’d be there. … Or so she thought.

“Hey! You need some help back there?” Michael bellowed, his voice full of meaning.

“This is it, Meghan,” she whispered, bolstering herself. “Deep breath. Head high. Stay cool, and for Pete’s sake, don’t cry.” Dressed in maternity jeans and a green, blue, and gold knit shirt, she rounded the corner into the kitchen, saying, “That smells great! I’ll have to learn to make coffee after I master poached eggs.”

“It’s easy. Just add coffee and water … and … plug it … in,” he faltered, as he turned to find Meghan in the doorway, looking gorgeous … and very pregnant. His eyes rounded in shock as he fixed his gaze on her belly.

“Holy cow!” he yelped, his voice several octaves higher than normal. “You’re really pregnant!”

“Yes, I know,” she said in a calm, quiet voice, as she walked past him to pour herself a cup of coffee.

“But … how? … when?” he stammered, stunned. “We just … it hasn’t been …”

“In the usual way, Michael, almost six months ago,” she informed him serenely, adding milk to her coffee.

“The first time,” he uttered dumbfoundedly, as the picture cleared. “Then you were … when … and I …” He was completely overwhelmed. He’d made love to a pregnant woman a little over a month ago and hadn’t had a clue as to her condition.

“Try and relax, Michael. As your attorney, I can tell you it’s not against the law,” she informed him blandly. She commanded her legs to walk past him and into the living room and was deeply gratified when they didn’t buckle.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” he roared in anger and confusion. “I could have hurt you.”

Meghan knew a moment of real fear at the tone of his voice, but his eyes held not only fury, but his own real pain at her deception. Yet, somehow she knew he wouldn’t hurt her physically. He was simply reacting to his emotions, just as she was trying to hide hers.

Maybe an offensive defense would cool him down and turn him off. Maybe then he’d go away and leave her alone. Maybe it would be best for him to go away with a bad memory of her. Maybe …

“Because I didn’t think it was any of your business,” she stated. “At first, anyway. Later on I figured you’d act this way. Dreaming of marriage and picket fences. The only reason I told you at all was because Lucy felt sorry for you, and I decided to tell you myself before she had a chance to. I’ve already said you can see the baby after it’s born. As for the rest of my life, it isn’t any of your business.”

“Not my business?” he exclaimed loudly, his jaw set rigidly in rage and frustration. “You think I hired detectives before, and ran you down here myself for fun? It just so happens I’m in love with you! Does that make it my business?”

“No,” she uttered, as her heart shattered into thousands of pieces, each with its own painfully raw edge.

He came to her and grabbed her arms in a tight grip. His face was a collage of mixed emotions. He examined her soul through her eyes but didn’t seem to be able to get any clear answers. The conflict within him increased until all he could do was give her one head-jerking shake.

“I have to go,” he said, still holding her arms. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. “I need to think, but I’ll be back.”

He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her forehead before turning to the door. On his way out, he turned back to Meghan.

“You’re wrong, Meghan Shay. You involved yourself in my life six months ago when you walked up to my table,” he said softly, as the steely edge in his voice cut deep into Meghan’s heart with each word. “I’m not going to let you back out of it just because we’ve had a little accident. The plain fact is, darlin’, that you’re as much mine as the baby is, and I’ll prove it to you.”

And then he was gone.

Michael lay awake on his hotel bed, churning it all over and over in his head. Obstinate red-headed witch. How was he going to make her see reason? How many times had he wanted to hit her in the head with a club and drag her off to his cave? He should have done it. If he had, things would be a lot simpler now.

All her talk about not wanting him in her life was a smoke screen to save her pride, at least that’s what he was desperately hoping. Lucy knew Meghan cared for him, otherwise she wouldn’t have helped him. Even Henry suspected something was happening, and he hadn’t gotten all his hints from Michael.

No, she wasn’t as apathetic toward him as she wanted to think. She had cared enough to tell him about the baby. If he could get her to admit she cared about him, they could move on from there.

How had Lucy described her? “Impulsive, mule-headed, and terribly impertinent.” It would take someone even more so to get her to see reason, and Michael knew Mary Meghan Shay had met her match.

M
EGHAN HAD MENTALLY
chastised herself between bouts of tears throughout the night. An exhausted sleep had finally taken her, but not until she had seen the first light of dawn. She slept deeply and had to fight her way back to the land of the living to put an end to an annoying noise.

“Buzz.”

There it was again. The alarm clock hit the floor and bounced several times, landing on its side in silence.

“Buzz!”

Meghan stuck her head under the pillow, only to discover muffled buzzes were more aggravating than clear ones.

“Damn,” she mumbled.

“Buzz.”

“I’m coming,” she said, groaning as she dragged herself out of bed. With eyes bleary from sleep and swollen from crying, she had to feel her way to the source of her irritation. She stubbed her toe on the coffee table and let loose a string of expletives that always seemed to make her father and brothers feel better in times of stress.

Finally, wearing nothing but a pair of oversized men’s pajamas and a scowl, she flung open the front door to find a grinning Michael waiting on the stoop.

“Good morning. Love the pajamas,” he greeted her cheerfully. He picked up a suitcase and started into the house.

“Hold it,” she said, the fog in her mind lifting enough to realize that Michael wasn’t supposed to be there. “Why are you back?”

“That’s obvious. I’m moving in here,” he told her matter-of-factly.

She glared at his suitcase, then back to him. Running one hand through her hair to get it out of her face, she said, “I can see that you think you are, but I want to know why. I neither need, nor want you here.”

“Tough,” he said, pushing past her into the living room.

“Now look here,” she started angrily. She closed the door to keep the cold air out and turned to face her intruder.

“No, you look here,” he said in an equally angry tone, his size and strength lending it more weight. “You can’t cook. You can’t take care of this house. And you’re in no condition to be alone. What if something happened and you couldn’t get to a phone for help? You owe it to the baby at least to eat right and be careful. I’m here to see you do both.”

“I don’t need your pity, and I can manage very well without you. I did for years before you ever came along,” she shouted.

“Look where that got you,” he noted softly but pointedly.

“Low blow,” she called. She couldn’t throw him out physically and she wouldn’t go as far as calling the police. And although she shouldn’t, she wanted him to stay.

“My aunt will be back soon. I’ll be fine until then,” she said more reasonably.

“Okay, we’ll decide what we’ll do next when the time comes, but for now I’m staying.”

“You really don’t need to,” she continued to argue halfheartedly.

“I’m staying.” His position was firm.

“Suit yourself,” she said with feigned indifference. Then as an afterthought, she added, “On one condition.”

“What’s that?” he asked, curious.

“You have to teach me how to make everything you cook while you’re here,” she bargained.

Grinning broadly, the thrill of victory in his eyes, he nodded. “It’s a deal.”

“Don’t sound so cheerful,” she warned. “It took Lucy’s mother two years to teach me how to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”

It didn’t take long for Michael to take over and make himself comfortable, and Meghan didn’t offer much resistance. All her life she had been left alone to do for herself. Oh, she knew her father and Connie loved her, but the Shays led an unorthodox life. Her father had always called her to get up for school in the morning, and he would scramble an egg for her while he made his own, and Connie had always made her a sandwich for lunch because he said it would make him late for school to clean up the mess she’d make. But the rest of the time she’d had to manage on her own. She had been responsible for making sure her clothes were clean. She had watched the clock so she wouldn’t miss her bus, because she knew she’d have a long walk ahead of her if she did. The only time her family had questioned her about school was when she brought home a poor mark on her report card. The only time they had asked what she did with her free time was when she’d been in trouble. During the periods she’d maintained high grades, she was able to involve herself in some well-planned mischief as she floated along through life, taking care of herself.

It had been the same in high school and college. Maybe more so, because by then she was skipping breakfast, buying her lunch, and had her own alarm clock.

Oddly, she had never resented her life. She’d grown up to be a strong and independent woman. She hadn’t felt neglected because Connie and Donald had been raised the same way. It was just the way things were at her house. She always knew, deep inside her, that if she’d ever truly needed them, her father and brothers were there for her, and they loved her very much in their own way.

Meghan had to admit, though, having Michael around to take care of her was pure luxury. She was certain the feeling was pregnancy-related, but it was wonderful nonetheless.

He showed his concern and caring in little ways that Meghan found quite endearing. “Have you taken your vitamin? … How many cups of coffee have you had today? … Here’s your third glass of milk. … Time for your walk. … Put on a hat.”

Meekly, she put up with it all, loving his attention, happy to be able to listen to his voice and see him whenever she wanted to, thrilling to the very core of her being whenever he happened to touch her, and thankful that he did so often.

An easy camaraderie developed between them. It was a time spent learning about and getting to know each other. A time in which their love grew stronger through friendship, understanding, and acceptance. A time during which their passion for one another grew stronger, but both of them suppressed it for fear of upsetting the new-found balance in their relationship.