Divine Design Read Free

skin was creamy white, her high cheekbones flushed with a rosy glow. She had a pert, little nose that turned up slightly, and the way her chin was set at a stubbornly determined angle very much appealed to Michael.
    Her eyes startled him. She looked at him straight on, and he was amazed that even through the glasses he could see how purely green they were. Her eyes were as green as her hair was red, not hazel or a mossy green, but almost a true kelly green. It fleetingly crossed his mind that she was indeed a “bonny Irish lass.”
    “Excuse me,” she said softly. “Could I bother you by asking you a few questions?”
    Michael had stood when she arrived at his table. She couldn’t be more than six inches shorter than I am, he thought with pleasure. At least if I kissed her, I wouldn’t have to get down on my knees to do it. The idea brought his gaze to her lips, which were soft and luscious looking. Pulling himself together as much as possible, he smiled at her.
    “Certainly. What sort of questions?” he asked, offering her the chair opposite him.
    “Well, it’s a survey actually,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. The man was magnificent. Meghan couldn’t remember ever feeling so nervous or self-conscious around a man. She didn’t care if he was from out of town or not at this point. If he was, he’d fit into her plan perfectly. If he was a full-blooded New Yorker … well, so what. Her first choice would have been to have a legal daddy for her baby, anyway; that he was big and gorgeous and sent her heart racing wouldn’t hurt, either.
    He looked at her with a bold honesty that made her feel as though she had “phony” written across her forehead. His face was tanned and he had little laugh lines around his eyes, eyes which were an unusual steel gray, almost teal color. Knowing instinctively that, barring venereal disease or mental illness, he was the one, she gave him extra credit for his eyes. Meghan wouldn’t mind at all if her baby had his eyes and hair—it was time for a little color variation in the Shay family.
    The woman was staring at him again. Poor thing. Wanting to help her, Michael prompted, “What sort of survey?”
    “Oh, sorry. I’m working on a sociology thesis. There aren’t very many questions; it won’t take long,” she recited from habit.
    “Okay. Ask away. Would you like a drink?” he added, trying to make her comfortable.
    “No. No, thank you.” She cleared her throat gently and launched into the interview. “Your age, please?”
    “Thirty-six,” he stated.
    Meghan was writing feverishly on the clipboard and didn’t look up when she asked, “Your general health?”
    “Healthy,” he replied. He watched as she continued to write. “Is it taking you all that time to put down thirty-six and healthy?”
    “No. Oh, no,” she stammered. “I’m also writing down your general physical description.”
    “Why?”
    He was the first man to ask her a question, and Meghan was not prepared. She suddenly became more anxious. She touched her forehead and glanced at her fingertips to see if the paint was still wet on her “phony” sign.
    “I don’t know,” she said as frankly as she could, not understanding why herself. She wasn’t likely to forget him. “Do you mind?”
    “No, I don’t mind, if you’ll read your description to me.”
    Meghan had written “gorgeous hunk of man, tall, wonderful big gray eyes, long black lashes, dark wavy hair.”
    Truly flustered now, she responded, “I … I wrote tall, large frame, dark coloring, gray eyes. … Is that okay?”
    “Will you relax? I’m not going to attack you, I promise.” He chuckled at her in a friendly manner. “It’s fine. Ask your next question.”
    “How tall are you, and what is your weight?” she went on, giving him a brief smile.
    “Six-four. Two hundred and forty-five, usually,” he retorted briefly. “How about you?”
    “How about me what?” she asked, her green eyes round in startlement.