Divine Design (16 page)

Michael discovered Meghan was indeed only human. Although not the complete slob she had painted herself to be, she was untidy. She made her bed and washed dishes, she even vacuumed and dusted, but she scattered things from one end of the house to the other. Her shoes and clothes were dropped and left at will, as were books and magazines; teacups, and lunch plates never seemed to wind up in the sink. At first she’d made a valiant effort to pick up after herself, but as she relaxed and became more comfortable with him, the debris began to gather.

She was completely inept in the kitchen. She tried, but it didn’t come easily for her. First he taught her to brew coffee. She did that well when she remembered to plug in the percolator. After three tries at teaching her to poach eggs, he’d gone out and bought her an electric egg poacher, so all she had to do was wait for the little red light to go out. Her aunt had used her oven to make toast, which was too much for Meghan, who needed to keep her eyes glued to the egg poacher. So he bought a toaster.

“Look at this,” she called triumphantly one morning as she entered the room. She was carrying his breakfast on a tray. “Coffee hot, O.J. from a can, a beautifully poached egg, and toast. My first meal.”

Through sleep-blurred eyes, he noted the toast was cold, because the butter hadn’t melted, and the egg was slightly overdone on the inside, but he grinned and ate everything with relish.

The days slid by and the time for her seventh-month checkup arrived. She wanted to go alone, but he insisted on taking her, saying he had to do a couple of errands downtown anyway. In the end he got his way. In answer to his questions, she had explained that the actual time she would spend with the doctor was short. All he did was listen to the baby, measure her abdomen, and ask her how she was feeling. But when she was called into an examining room, Michael simply got up and followed her.

“Michael,” she whispered angrily, when the nurse had left them alone, “you’ve got a lot of nerve. You …”

“Shh,” he broke in. “Indulge me. I’ve been feeding you and that baby for weeks. I just want to hear it.”

Dr. Madisen was a kindly old gentleman who encouraged the husband to take part in his wife’s pregnancy and the birth of their child, much to Meghan’s chagrin and Michael’s delight. He apparently had a very short memory, because she had told him a month ago she wasn’t married.

He made a special trip to get a dopscope so Michael could hear the fetal heart. The faint, rapid beat filled the room as Meghan lay on her back with her huge belly exposed.

At first she was mortified for Michael to see her uncovered, but he only winked at her, amused by her embarrassment.

“Come here and feel this, Mr. Shay,” the eager doctor instructed. Without hesitation, Michael joined him on the opposite side of the examination table.

“If you put your thumb and fingers here, you’ll be able to feel your baby’s head,” the doctor said, demonstrating the technique low on Meghan’s pelvis for the would-be father.

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.”