His Pregnancy Bargain Read Online Free PDF

him blankly he spelt it out. ‘How long did you imagine this fake romance had to last? Six months or so?’
    â€˜I hadn’t really thought that far ahead.’
    His disturbing eyes glittering from beneath the sweep of long, curling ebony lashes, he slanted her a sardonic look.
    â€˜Oh, I guess so,’ she conceded crossly. ‘If you’re suggesting anyone is going to believe you’re a famous author…’ She gave a forced laugh.
    â€˜Nobody has the faintest idea what Lucas Patrick looks like.’
    â€˜They may not know what he looks like—’ she deliberately trailed her eyes along the long, lean lines of his athletic frame; about midway she lost her scornful air ‘—but I think they might know what he doesn’t look like,’ she finished hoarsely.
    His self-satisfied air intensified as he surveyed her heated cheeks. ‘If I had claimed to be him when you walked in you’d have been none the wiser.’
    â€˜Nonsense! Of course I would,’ she instantly rebutted indignantly. ‘What do you take me for?’
    A look she couldn’t quite decipher flickered at the back of his steely, dark-lashed eyes. ‘Someone who thinks they can tell, just by looking at a person, who he is…or should I say what he does? The two seem to be the same thing as far as you’re concerned.’
    â€˜Of course I can’t.’
    â€˜And neither can anyone else. The fact is you assumed I was the hired help because of the way I’m dressed. If I came out of the bedroom with a stethoscope around my neck you’d have assumed I was a doctor. It’s all about props.’
    â€˜This is all academic…I’m not going to invite a total stranger into my home.’
    â€˜Afraid I’ll steal the silver?’
    She shook her head and refused to respond to this taunt. ‘This isn’t going to happen. Even if you did carry it off…’
    â€˜I will,’ he promised.
    His smug smile made her frown. ‘Even if you did my mother is never going to believe I’m attracted to you.’ Then she would be wrong wouldn’t she?
    â€˜What’s wrong with me?’
    â€˜You’re simply not my type.’
    â€˜What is your type?’
    â€˜Shall we drop this subject?’
    â€˜Because you find it uncomfortable?’ The idea seemed to amuse him.
    â€˜I find you uncomfortable.’ Too much information, Megan, she told herself not liking the thoughtful expression on his face. Recalling his earlier cynical comments, she asked, ‘What do you get out of it?’
    He smiled. ‘Your uncle Malcolm looks at my manuscript.’
    So that was it. ‘If you’ve written a load of rubbish, nothing I say is going to make Uncle Malcolm publish you.’
    â€˜It isn’t rubbish; it’s good.’
    â€˜You’re very confident.’
    He didn’t deny her accusation. ‘I just need a break and you need a lover.’
    â€˜A fake lover.’
    â€˜I’m applying for the job…?’
    Megan clutched her head and groaned. ‘I must be mad!’
    â€˜You won’t regret this,’ he promised, extending his hand.
    Megan, who was pretty sure she would regret it, allowed her fingers to be enclosed in his firm grip. A shot of heat zapped through her body.
    She was regretting it already. She carried on regretting it and questioning her sanity during the next twenty-four hours. In the end it didn’t matter.
    Her fake lover was a no-show.

CHAPTER FOUR
    T HE day was grey and drizzly, there had been no buyers for a brisk walk, so Megan hadn’t had company when she’d walked the dogs. She was still in her muddy shoes and outdoor clothes when a noisy Land Rover drew up onto the gravelled forecourt right beside a Porsche and a Mercedes. She stopped towelling the muddy terrier and got to her feet, her heart pounding— please let it not be him…!
    â€˜I wonder who that