The Pregnancy Discovery. Barbara Hannay
‘This is it? This is the bottle?’ He turned to Meg.
She nodded.
The bottle was empty and Meg stood quietly as he examined the ancient, once clear, green glass carefully, turning it over and over, slowly. He seemed to be studying the surface, which was worn to an opaque haze by sand and salt and endless, endless water.
Her mouth quivered into a funny little trembling smile as she watched him and she wondered if he felt as choked up as she did. This was the bottle that had been held by Tom Kirby, his grandfather. All those years ago.
For days now, she’d been thinking about this moment when it was handed over to its rightful owner. She looked at Sam through moist eyes. ‘It’s good to know you have it at last,’ she said in a voice choked with emotion.
Once more, cameras clicked and whirred as photographers crouched and hovered around them. ‘That’s lovely, sweetheart.’ Click! ‘Keep looking at him like that.’ Click! Click! ‘Beautiful.’
As soon as there was a break, Sam’s face pulled into a wry grimace as he looked at her. ‘I’ll be happier when I get the letter as well as this bottle.’
Meg stiffened. All he cared about was the letter and the will and securing his family’s business. She should have known a playboy bachelor from Seattle wouldn’t have a sentimental bone in his body.
‘Now, put your arm around her, mate,’ another voice instructed.
Before she could prepare herself, Sam’s strong arm settled around Meg’s shoulders. She was gathered against him and of course her curves fitted perfectly against the hard planes of his muscular physique. This close, she could smell his skin, clean with a hint of expensive aftershave…and annoying, undeniable ripples of awareness heated her.
This was way too close for comfort.
‘Put your hand on the bottle, too,’ someone instructed. ‘That’s it—both of you holding it together.’
‘Now, look deep into each other’s eyes.’
Reluctantly, Meg dragged her eyes up to meet Sam’s. This wasn’t fair! Her resistance was wearing off. Suddenly, looking into those blue depths was like taking off from a high diving board. Her foolish heart leapt in her chest.
She tried for a joke—anything to take her mind off her body’s embarrassing reactions. ‘I guess we can regard this as practice for when we get married.’ Then she cringed. Idiot! Had she really said that? ‘I mean married to—whoever we marry,’ she stammered, suddenly terribly flustered. ‘If we get ever married.’ How did she get into this mess? ‘Either of us, that is—’ she added, floundering hopelessly. ‘Either of us get married to anyone,’ she finished lamely.
Looking into Sam’s sexy eyes had emptied her mind of all cohesive thoughts.
‘I get the picture, Meg.’ He smiled.
‘Have I gone bright red?’ she asked him, as the cameras clicked away.
‘Just a very becoming pink.’ His amused eyes looked deep into hers as he tugged her a little closer.
His lips were so temptingly close. Meg had the distinct impression that he would have liked to kiss her again. She felt her own lips part and a little tremor of anticipation danced across them.
Thank goodness for Fred and the photographers! She was safe from Sam’s kisses while they were around. How could any part of her feeble brain be contemplating kissing this man hot on the heels of yesterday’s fiasco? Today she was supposed to be working doubly hard at keeping Sam at bay.
To her relief, the photo session was over at last. Someone mentioned that the next ferry would arrive soon, and the media dispersed, scrambling to leave for another assignment.
Meg squinted at the sky, taking deep breaths to regain her equilibrium. ‘Time to get out of the sun.’
‘You have a busy schedule today?’ Sam asked as they passed under criss-crossing fronds of coconut palms on the way back to the resort.
She wasn’t going to fall for any more of his come-on lines. ‘I’m exceedingly busy,’ she answered emphatically. ‘I have meetings…’
He nodded. ‘But would you have dinner with me tonight?’
She pressed her lips tightly together. Not only did she have to ward off this man’s charm, now she had to deal with his persistence as well.
Sam added softly, ‘It can be my way of paying you back for the dirty hand I dealt you yesterday.’
Meg was proud of her crisp reply. ‘You don’t owe me anything.’
‘I owe you a great deal.’ He stopped walking and looked down at the bottle he was still holding. Then he tossed it lightly from one hand to the other. ‘Whatever happens, my family will be grateful to you for my grandfather’s letter.’
‘Whatever happens?’ Meg repeated. ‘You sound like you’re really worried about how this will turn out.’
His face tightened and he looked away at some spot down the beach. ‘I’ll feel a lot better when that will is safely in the hands of my lawyers.’
‘You said there’s a lot at stake.’
‘Yeah.’ His fingers toyed with the bottle’s mouth. ‘Meg—about my grandfather’s letter—you’ve read it, haven’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can you tell me more about it? Are you sure there’s no way of telling who it was addressed to?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. As I told you, the top of the page was damaged.’
‘And there was no other reference to his wife’s name?’
‘No. The rest of the time he referred to “my wife” or “darling” or “sweetheart”—that kind of thing.’
Sam sighed heavily. ‘But there was definitely a will?’
‘It definitely made mention of Tom leaving all his worldly goods to his wife.’
‘Yeah, well, Fred had better hand it over soon.’ He gripped the bottle tightly with both hands for a moment, then suddenly smiled at her.
If only he would stop doing that!
‘Why don’t you forgive me for yesterday? I hear there’s a very good outdoor restaurant over in one of the other bays.’
Fighting back the wild urge to accept was like trying to put out a bushfire with a mere tumbler of water. For Pete’s sake, Sam was by far the best-looking fellow who’d ever asked Meg out. But, she had to be sensible about this. He’d be gone in a day or two. She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘Thanks for the invite, Sam, but I’ll have to decline.’
Before she changed her mind, she turned and walked quickly away.
Sam watched her go, a wry, admiring smile tugging his lips. When she’d rejected his invitation, she hadn’t added, I can’t trust you, but that was what she’d meant.
Of course, he couldn’t blame Meg for running. He’d given her every reason to be wary. Yesterday, she’d been totally upfront and honest with him and he hadn’t returned the compliment.
Her disdain was exactly what he deserved.
But Meg Bennet was having a strange effect on him. Just thinking about her…about her eyes…her hair…her mouth made him…restless. Was it because she was different? Because she refused to be impressed by the thing that impressed most women—his money? Because she refused to be impressed by anything about him?
His gaze dropped again to the bottle in his hands and he reminded himself that he hadn’t come to Australia looking for romance. He had a business to run and he had to get back to it as soon as possible.
By tomorrow, he’d be grateful