His Pregnancy Bargain Read Free

door to the penthouse and heard the same impatient voice.
    â€˜Just bring it in—the money’s on the table. If there are no extra anchovies don’t take the tip.’
    Oh, God, he’s expecting a pizza and he’s got a woman who wants him to pretend to be desperately in love with her!
    Megan cleared her throat and looked curiously around the vast open-plan living space. With its steel support columns and lofty vaulted ceiling, it wasn’t what she considered homey. She couldn’t imagine coming here after a tough day, kicking off her shoes, pouring a glass of wine and switching on the telly. No, this was strictly bachelor territory and a rich bachelor at that, she thought, but then by all accounts the owner was worth a small fortune.
    It was hard to gauge his taste as what furniture there waswas covered in dust-sheets. Her nose wrinkled; the place was permeated with the smell of paint and turps.
    She cleared her throat and projected her voice to reach the invisible and grouchy presence. ‘Mr Patrick, I’m afraid…’ As the word left her mouth a lean, broad-shouldered figure materialised in a doorway.
    Megan was pretty hopeless when it came to ages but she put this hunk somewhere in his early thirties. He was also tall, well over six feet, and dressed in tatty paint-stained jeans and a tee shirt that was clean but looked as though it had shrunk in the wash. The shrinkage meant it was impossible not to notice how well-developed his lean torso was. The tee shirt also revealed an inch or so of lean, flat belly and gave a glimpse of the thin line of dark hair that disappeared suggestively beneath the loose waistband of his jeans.
    His dark flyaway brows drew together above a strong aquiline nose as he frowned suspiciously across at her.
    â€˜Who the hell are you?’ he demanded as he dragged a hand through his collar-length sable hair that gleamed with health and was liberally speckled with blue paint. The jagged ends that rested on the nape of his brown neck suggested he hadn’t seen the inside of a hair salon for some time.
    This was the sort of guy who had women falling out of upper-storey windows to get a better look at him.
    His presence undetected at first Luc had had an opportunity to study his intruder. Dressed casually as she was in jeans, there was nothing to distinguish this young woman from any number of others you saw in the street, except perhaps that this one appeared to carry herself with a certain air of quiet assurance.
    She was tall and slim with hair like warm honey and candid china-blue eyes, which widened as they met his. The colour was so dramatically intense it could almost constitute an assault on the senses, he decided. The eyes had the sortof impact that made you not notice at first that her nose was undistinguished and her jaw slightly too determined. As far as he could tell she wasn’t wearing any make-up, something she could get away with because her skin was smooth, the colour of milk and flawless.
    Despite the fact she wasn’t his type Luc felt his interest sharpen.
    Megan’s generous mouth tightened. Being a fairly direct person herself, she could appreciate the characteristic in others, but his question hadn’t been brusque, more downright rude!
    Clearly she had not made a favourable first impression on the decorator…she’d have to do a lot better with his employer if this wasn’t going to be a total waste of time and energy.
    â€˜I’m Dr Semple.’ Somehow what was meant to be a simple statement of fact emerged sounding pompous, but men this good-looking always made her feel slightly defensive…not that she had ever seen a man this good-looking.
    His dark brows soared and the corners of his wide mouth twisted…something definitely cruel about that mouth, Megan decided, raising her glance hurriedly to eye level as something deep in her stomach twisted.
    She sounded as cool and sure of herself as she