Her Pregnancy Surprise Read Free Page B

lawsuit for assault before he could blink!
    ‘Suit yourself,’ he drawled. ‘But then I’m sure you generallydo.’ This woman had spoilt and privileged written all over her, from her smooth voice to her assured manner.
    Just as Megan’s bottom made contact with the dust-sheet-covered chair there was a sudden upheaval beneath her that sent her with a startled shriek to her feet.
    A bundle of spitting fury struck out at her with sharp claws as it hurtled across the room like a ginger flash of lightning.
    ‘Ouch!’ she yelled. ‘That thing scratched me.’ Rolling up the right leg of her jeans revealed a long, though admittedly shallow, scratch along her calf.
    ‘That thing is called Sybil and you did sit on her. Poor cat,’ he crooned to the cat from the flat downstairs.
    Megan wasn’t surprised to see the animal respond to his velvety croon, and in lightning transformation. That voice…! She could imagine any number of women who were old enough to know better purring if he used that voice on them.
    ‘Is the skin broken?’
    ‘I’ll live,’ she replied, rolling down her trouser leg. Superficial or not, the scratch stung. ‘Do you have any idea when he’ll be back?’
    ‘Who?’
    Megan gave an impatient grimace. ‘Mr Patrick.’
    ‘Oh, him…he’ll be back in the country some time next month, I understand.’
    Megan, her high hopes dashed by the casual revelation, felt her face fall. ‘But he has to be back before then,’ she protested.
    ‘Really…?’
    ‘He’s spending next weekend in the country with us.’
    ‘Maybe it slipped his mind…?’
    Megan, who had flopped disconsolately into the cat-free chair, cast him a look of scorn. ‘Or maybe Uncle Malcolm lied through his teeth,’ she muttered half to herself.
    Look on the bright side, she told herself, no eligible suitorequalled not being paired off with anyone, and it always had been a long shot.
    The bad news was there would be other weekends!
    ‘Malcolm Hall is your uncle?’
    Megan shot him a startled glance and began to sneeze. ‘You know him?’ She felt another sneeze building and began to ransack her bag for tissues, she found the packet just in time.
    ‘We’re not members of the same club,’ she heard him drawling scornfully when her sneezes subsided. ‘And I don’t play golf…but they let us unskilled labourers into quite a few places these days.’
    Megan gave her pink nose a last angry scrub, her china-blue eyes snapping with anger. Where did this man get off automatically assuming she was some sort of snob? There was only one person here guilty of judging by appearances and it wasn’t Megan!
    ‘In my book decorators aren’t unskilled, although…’ she allowed her gaze to travel significantly over his paint-stained person ‘…in your case…’
    ‘I’m helping out a friend.’
    ‘So what is your actual day job?’
    ‘I do a bit of this, a bit of that,’ he revealed casually.’
    ‘You don’t have a regular job?’ Megan’s voice lifted in amazement—like most of her friends, her life revolved around the demands of work.
    Luc found the fact she was looking at him as though he were a rare specimen amusing. ‘I don’t starve and I don’t sponge.’
    Megan was immediately embarrassed. ‘I never imagined that you…it really isn’t any of my business how you live your life, Mr…’
    ‘Not being tied down to a nine-to-five routine gives me time to write. Some of my work is even now sitting on your uncle’s desk.’
    ‘You want to be a writer?’ That would explain his instantrecognition of her uncle’s name. Though he had to be incredibly naive if he thought the work of every unknown who sent in an unsolicited manuscript ended up on her uncle’s desk. You had to produce something very special indeed to get that far.
    Much more likely his work was languishing at the bottom of a pile on some junior’s desk. Being a naturally kind person, Megan didn’t have the heart to explain the brutal facts of the