Pleasure, Pregnancy and a Proposition. Heidi Rice

he glanced at his watch ‘—ten minutes,’ he announced, as if that explained everything.

      She peered past him and read the street sign on the corner. ‘What are we doing in Harley Street?’

      The house he’d stopped in front of had an ornate brass plaque listing two doctors’ names. That made sense. Harley Street was the domain of London’s most exclusive private medical practitioners. But nothing else did. Why had he brought her here?

      He took his sunglasses off, flung them into the back seat. ‘Answer me one question,’ he said, his voice tight with annoyance. ‘Were you ever going to tell me about it?’

      ‘Tell you about what?’ Why was he looking at her as if she’d tried to steal the crown jewels and he’d caught her red-handed?

      His gaze wandered down to her abdomen. She folded her arms, feeling oddly defensive.

      Fierce grey eyes met hers. They looked colder than ever.

      ‘About my child, of course. What else?’

      CHAPTER THREE

      ‘YOUR what? What child?’ Had she just entered The Twilight Zone? ‘Have you gone mad?’

      Louisa turned to grab the door handle, determined to get out of the car before he started speaking in tongues or something.

      His fingers clamped on her wrist. ‘Don’t act the innocent. I know about the pregnancy. I know about your mood swings, the supposed stomach bug you had a month ago, and the fact that you haven’t had a period in months.’ His eyes dipped to her breasts. ‘And there’s a few other giveaways I can see for myself.’

      She wrestled her hand out of his grasp. ‘What have you been doing? Staking out my toilet?’

      ‘Jack told me.’

      ‘Jack Devlin told you I was pregnant?’ she shouted, past caring if the whole of Harley Street heard her.

      The mention of her best friend Mel’s husband was the last straw. She’d forgotten that Jack and Devereaux were friends. It was how she and Devereaux had met—at a dinner party at Mel’s house. And now Jack had told Devereaux she was pregnant. Next time she saw Jack she would have to kill him.

      ‘Not in so many words,’ Devereaux said, impatience sharpening his voice. ‘We were talking about Mel’s pregnancy and he mentioned you. Seems Mel thinks you’re pregnant but that you’re keeping it a secret for some reason.’

      Okay, now she would have to kill Mel too. ‘Please tell me you didn’t tell Jack about us.’

      She’d been so humiliated she hadn’t told anyone. Not even Mel, and she usually told Mel everything.

      But how did you tell your best friend that you’d slept with a man on a first date, that you’d discovered how incredible, how amazing sex could really be, that for ten rosy minutes of afterglow you’d deluded yourself into thinking you’d found the love of your life—and then been brought crashing down to earth when you discovered the truth. That Mr Right was actually Mr Dead Wrong in disguise. That he wasn’t the sexy, flirtatious, easy-going ordinary guy he’d pretended to be all evening, but rather a cold, manipulative, controlling member of the aristocracy, who’d seduced you for writing an article about him he didn’t like.

      Humiliation didn’t even begin to cover it.

      ‘I didn’t talk to Jack about us,’ he snarled. ‘I was much more interested in hearing what he had to say about you.’ He was looking at her as if he had a right to his anger.

      Suddenly sick of him, and his attitude, and the whole stupid mess, Louisa knew she just wanted to get away from him. ‘I’m not pregnant. Now, I’ve had enough of this idiotic conversation. I’m going back to work.’ She tried to turn away from him, but he grasped her wrist again. ‘Let go of me.’

      ‘When did you have your last period?’

      ‘I’m not answering that.’

      She struggled. His fingers tightened on her wrist.

      ‘You’re not going anywhere until you do,’ he said firmly.

      She stopped struggling. This was ridiculous. What were they arguing about?

      Dropping her head back on the seat, she let her hand go limp and closed her eyes against the bright cloudless August afternoon. She wasn’t pregnant. All she had to do was convince him and he’d let her go. And then this whole horrible scene would be over. She’d never have to see him again.

      Shielding her eyes, she rolled her head towards him. He looked as implacable and determined as ever. She tried to remember when her last period had been. A flush crept up her neck. Okay, maybe it had been a while ago. But she’d always had wildly irregular periods. It didn’t mean a thing. And anyway, she had definitely had one since they’d made love. Plus she’d taken a home pregnancy test. She wasn’t that stupid.

      ‘I took a home pregnancy test. Just in case. And it was negative.’ To her astonishment, instead of looking repentant, he narrowed his eyes.

      ‘When did you take it?’

      ‘I don’t know. A few days afterwards.’

      ‘And did you bother to read the instructions properly?’

      ‘Enough to know it was negative,’ she said firmly, the guilty blush spreading across her cheeks. Okay, she hadn’t read all the small print—but did anyone?

      ‘I thought not,’ he said.

      Indignation seared through her and she stiffened in her seat. ‘Don’t talk to me as if I’m an imbecile. I took the test. It was negative. Plus I’ve had a period since that night, so it’s all academic anyway.’ Even if her period had been a light one, it had been enough to put her mind at rest.

      She tried to wrestle her wrist free again.

      He held fast and his brows lowered ominously. ‘That night was over three months ago, and you’re telling me you’ve only had one period since?’ Exasperation sharpened every word.

      ‘So what? I have irregular periods.’ The blush intensified. Why was she talking to this man about her menstrual cycle? And why was she going on the defensive? ‘Read my lips,’ she said. ‘There is no child.’ The possibility didn’t even bear thinking about.

      He looked at the silver Rolex on his wrist again. ‘I’ve made you an appointment with the top obstetrician in the UK. She can start by doing a pregnancy test.’

      ‘Who on earth do you think you are?’

      ‘Quite possibly the father of your child,’ he shot back without even blinking. ‘The condom broke, Louisa,’ he said. ‘You know that.’ He let go of her wrist at last and proceeded to count off his points on the fingers of one hand. ‘You haven’t had a period in months. You had what could easily have been a bout of morning sickness a few weeks back, and your breasts are definitely fuller. You’re taking another pregnancy test. A proper one that you can’t muck up.’

      The comment about her breasts had the flush blazing across her chest like a brush fire. ‘I’m not pregnant. And even if I were…’ which she most definitely was not ‘…what makes you so sure you’re the father? For all you know I could be a complete slapper. I could have slept with ten other guys since that night. I could have slept with twenty,’ she finished on a note of bravado.

      ‘Yeah, but you didn’t,’ he said, with such certainty she wanted to slap him.

      ‘Oh, I see.’ Did the man’s ego know no bounds? ‘You think you were so memorable you spoiled me for other guys. Is that it?’ She was prepared to lie through her teeth rather than let him know the truth. ‘Believe me, you weren’t.’

      He huffed out a breath and stared out through the windshield. ‘Stop pretending you’re something you’re not.’ He turned back to her. Was that pity or regret