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Though if he’d had a little less in the charm and looks department maybe he’d have learned to treat those women with more sensitivity.
Then she considered his mother and thought maybe not.
‘When was the last time you felt joyful?’ she asked on impulse.
He scratched his chin. He still hadn’t shaved. He should look scruffy, but the texture of his shadowed jaw spoke to some yearning deep inside her. The tips of her fingers tingled. She opened and closed her hands. If she reached out and—
She shook herself. Ben did look scruffy. Completely and utterly. He most certainly didn’t look temptingly disreputable with all that bad-boy promise of his.
Her hands continued to open and close. She heaved back a sigh. Okay, we’ll maybe he did. But that certainly wasn’t the look she was into.
Normally.
She scowled. Darn pregnancy hormones. And then the memory of that long ago kiss hit her and all the hairs on her arms stood to attention.
Stop it! She and Ben would never travel down that road again. There was simply too much at stake to risk it. Ever.
She folded her arms and swallowed. ‘It can’t be that hard, can it?’ she demanded when he remained silent. Ben was the last person who’d need lessons in joy, surely?
‘There are just so many to choose from,’ he drawled, with that lazy hit-you-in-the-knees grin.
The grin was too slow coming to make her heart beat faster. Her heart had already started to sink. Ben was lying and it knocked her sideways. She’d always thought his exciting, devil-may-care life of freedom gave him endless pleasure and joy.
‘The most recent instance that comes to mind is when I bun-gee-jumped over the Zambezi River from the Victoria Falls Bridge. Amazing rush of adrenaline. I felt like a superhero.’
She scratched a hand back through her hair. What was she thinking? Of course Ben’s life gave him pleasure. He did so many exciting things. Did he really think he could give that all up for bottles and nappies?
‘What about you? When was the last time you felt joyful?’
She didn’t even need to think. She placed a hand across her stomach. And even amid all her current confusion and, yes, fear a shaft of joy lifted her up. She smiled. ‘The moment I found out I was pregnant.’
She was going to have a baby!
‘And every single day after, just knowing I’m pregnant.’ Ben had made that possible. She would never be able to thank him enough. Ever.
She set her shoulders. When he came to the conclusion she knew he would—that he wasn’t cut out for domesticity—she would do everything in her power to make sure he felt neither guilty nor miserable about it.
Ben shaded his eyes and stared out at the perfect crescent of the bay. ‘So you want to spread the joy, huh?’
‘Absolutely.’ Being pregnant had changed her perspective. In comparison to so many other people she was lucky. Very lucky. ‘We know how to do joy, Ben, but my father and Elsie—well, they’ve either forgotten how or they never knew the secret in the first place.’
‘It’s not a secret, Meg.’
Tell her father and Elsie that.
‘And if this scheme of yours doesn’t work and they remain as sour and distant as ever?’
‘I’m not going to break my heart over it, if that’s what you’re worried about. But at least I’ll know I tried.’
He shifted his weight and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, making them ride even lower on his hips. The scent of leather slugged her in the stomach—which was odd, because Ben wasn’t wearing his leather jacket.
‘And what if it does work? Have you considered that?’
She dragged her gaze from his hips and tried to focus. ‘That scenario could be the most challenging of all,’ she agreed. ‘The four of us…five,’ she amended, glancing down at her stomach, ‘all trying to become a family after all this time. It’ll be tricky.’
She wanted to add, but not impossible, but her throat had closed over at the way he surveyed her stomach. Her chest tightened at the intensity of his focus. The light in his eyes made her thighs shake.
She cleared her throat and dragged in a breath. ‘If it works I’ll get a warm and fuzzy feeling,’ she declared. Warm and fuzzy was preferable to hot and prickly. She rolled her shoulders. ‘And perhaps you will too.’
Finally—finally—his gaze lifted to hers. ‘More fairytales, Meg?’
Did he still hold that much resentment about their less than ideal childhood? ‘You still want to punish them?’
‘No.’ Very slowly he shook his head. ‘But I don’t think they deserve all your good efforts either. Especially when I’m far from convinced anything either one of us does will make a difference where they’re concerned.’
‘But what is it going to hurt to try?’
‘I’m afraid it’ll hurt you.’
He’d always looked out for her. She couldn’t help but smile at him. ‘I have a baby on the way. I’m on top of the world.’
He smiled suddenly too. A real smile—not one to trick or beguile. ‘All right, Meg, I’m in. I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
She let out a breath she hadn’t even known she’d held.
‘On one condition.’
She should’ve known. She folded her arms. ‘Which is…?’
She was not letting him sleep in her spare bedroom. He belonged next door. Besides…She swallowed. She needed her own space.
‘You’ll let me touch the baby.’
CHAPTER FIVE
MEG COULDN’T HELP her sudden grin. Lots of people had touched her baby bump—happy for her and awed by the miracle growing inside her. Why should Ben be any different?
Of course he’d be curious.
Of course he’d be invested.
He might never be Daddy but he’d always be Uncle Ben. Favourite Uncle Ben. Wanting to touch her baby bump was the most natural thing in the world.
She didn’t try to temper her grin. ‘Of course you can, Ben.’
She turned so she faced him front-on, offering her stomach to him, so to speak. His hands reached out, both of them strong and sure. They didn’t waver. His hands curved around her abdomen—and just like that it stopped being the most natural thing in the world.
The pulse jammed in Meg’s throat and she had to fight the urge to jolt away from him. Ben’s hands suddenly didn’t look like the hands of her best friend. They looked sensual and sure and knowing. They didn’t feel like the hands of her best friend either.
Her breath hitched and her pulse skipped and spun like a kite-surfer in gale force winds. With excruciating thoroughness he explored every inch of her stomach through the thin cotton of her shirt. His fingers were hot and strong and surprisingly gentle.
And every part of her he touched he flooded with warmth and vigour.
She clenched her eyes shut. Her best friend had never looked at her with that possessive light in his eyes before. Not that it was aimed at her per se. Still, the baby was inside her abdomen.
He moved in closer and his heat swamped her. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on the quality of the light hitting the water of the bay below. But then his scent swirled around her—a mix of soap and leather and something darker and more illicit, like a fine Scotch whisky. She dragged in a shaky breath. Scotch wasn’t Ben’s drink. It was a crazy association. That thought, though, didn’t make the scent go away.
Her heart all but stopped when he knelt down in front of her and pressed the left side of his face to her stomach, his arm going about her waist. She found her hand hovering above his head. She wanted to rest it there, but that would make them seem too much of a trio. Her throat thickened and tears stung her eyes. They weren’t a trio. Even if by some miracle Ben stayed, they still wouldn’t be a trio.
But he wouldn’t stay.
And so her hand continued to hover awkwardly above his head.
‘Hey, little baby,’ he crooned. ‘I’m your—’
‘No!’ She tried to move away but his grip about her tightened.
‘I’m…I’m pleased to meet you,’ he whispered against her stomach instead.
She closed her eyes and breathed hard.
When he climbed back to his feet their gazes clashed and locked. She’d never felt more confused in her entire life.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Their gazes continued to battle until Ben finally took a step away and seemed to mentally shake himself. ‘What’s the plan for the rest of the day?’
The plan was to put as much distance between her and Ben as she could. Somewhere in the last day he’d become a stranger to her. A stranger who smelled good, who looked good, and who unnerved her.
This new Ben threatened more than her equilibrium. He threatened her unborn child’s future and its happiness.
The Ben she knew would never do anything to hurt her. But this new Ben? She didn’t trust him. She wanted to be away from him, to get her head back into some semblance of working order. She knew exactly how to accomplish that.
‘I’m going into Nelson Bay to start on the wedding preparations.’
‘Excellent plan. I’ll come with you.’
She nearly choked. ‘You’ll what?’
‘You said you wanted my help.’ He lifted his arms. ‘I’m yours to command.’
Why did that have to sound so suggestive?
‘But—’ She tried to think of something sensible to say. She couldn’t, so she strode back around the side of the house.
‘Time is a-wasting.’ He kept perfect time beside her.
‘It’s really not necessary.’ She tucked her hair back behind her ears, avoiding eye contact while she collected the tape measure along with the measurements he’d jotted down for her. ‘You only got back from Africa yesterday. You are allowed a couple of days to catch your breath.’
‘Are you trying to blow me off, Meg?’
Heat scorched her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’
He grinned as if enjoying her discomfiture. ‘Well, then…’
She blew out a breath. ‘Have it your own way. But we’re taking my car, not the bike, and I’m driving.’
‘Whatever you say.’
He raised his hands in mock surrender, and suddenly he was her Ben again and it made her laugh. ‘Be warned—I will make you buy me an ice cream cone. I cannot get enough of passionfruit ripple ice cream at the moment.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime. I’ll buy you a kilo of prawns from the co-op and we can stretch out on the beach and eat them.’
‘You’ll have to eat them on your own, then. And knowing how I feel about prawns, that’d be too cruel.’
He followed her into the house. ‘They give you morning sickness?’
She patted her stomach. ‘It has something to do with mercury levels in seafood. It could harm the baby. I’m afraid Camembert and salami are off the menu too.’
He stared at her, his jaw slack, and she could practically read his thoughts—shock that certain foods might harm the baby growing inside her—and his sudden confrontation with his own ignorance. Her natural impulse was to reassure him, but she stifled it. Ben was ignorant about babies and pregnancy, and it wasn’t up to her to educate him. If he wanted to be a good father he would have to educate himself, exercising his own initiative, not because she prompted or nagged him to.
But she didn’t want the stranger back, so she kept her voice light and added, ‘Not to mention wine and coffee. All of my favourite things. Still, I seem to be finding ample consolation in passionfruit ripple ice cream.’
She washed her hands, dried them, stowed the measurements in her handbag and then lifted an eyebrow in Ben’s direction. ‘Ready?’
He still hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, but at her words he strode across to the sink to pump the strawberry-scented hand-wash she kept on the window ledge into his hands. The scent only seemed to emphasise his masculinity. She watched him wash his hands and remembered the feel of them on her abdomen, their heat and their gentleness.
She jerked her gaze away.
‘Ready.’
When she turned back he was drying his hands. And there was a new light in his eyes and a determined shape to his mouth. Normally she would take the time to dust a little powder on her nose and slick on a coat of lipstick, but she wanted to be out of the house and into the day. Right now!
She led the way to her car.
‘Okay, the plan today is to hire a marquee for the big event— along with the associated paraphernalia. Tables chairs and whatnot,’ she said as they drove the short distance to the neigh bouring town. ‘And then we’ll reward ourselves with lunch.’
‘Do you mind if we do a bit of shopping afterwards? I need to grab a few things.’
She glanced at him. Ben and shopping? She shook her head. ‘Not at all.’
To Meg’s utter surprise, Ben was a major help on the Great Marquee Hunt. He zeroed in immediately on the marquee that would best suit their purposes. The side panels could be rolled up to allow a breeze to filter through the interior if the evening proved warm. If the day was cool, however—and that wasn’t unheard of in late March—the view of the bay could still be enjoyed through the clear panels that acted like windows in the marquee walls.
Ben insisted on putting down the deposit himself.
Given the expression on his face earlier, when she’d asked him about his financial circumstances, she decided it would be the better part of valour not to argue with him.
Furniture was next on the list, and Meg chose round tables and padded chairs. ‘Round tables means the entire table can talk together with ease.’ Hopefully it would promote conversation.
Ben’s lips twisted. ‘And they’ll make the marquee look fuller, right?’
Exactly.
‘What else?’ he demanded.
‘We need a long table for the wedding party.’
‘There’s only four of us. It won’t need to be that long.’
‘And tables for presents and the cake.’
Ben pointed out tables, the salesman made a note, and then they were done—all in under an hour.
Ben’s hands went to his hips. ‘What now?’
To see him so fully focused on the task made her smile. ‘Now we congratulate ourselves on having made such excellent progress and reward ourselves with lunch.’
‘That’s it?’
She could tell he didn’t believe her. ‘It’s one of the big things ticked off. It’s all I had scheduled for today.’
‘What are the other big things?’
‘The catering, the cake, the invitations. And…’ A grin tugged at her lips.
He leaned down to survey her face. His own lips twitched. ‘And?’
‘And shopping for Elsie’s outfit.’
He shot away from her. ‘Oh, no—no, no. You’re not dragging me along on that.’
She choked back a laugh. ‘Fat lot of use you’d be anyway. I’ll let you off the hook if you buy me lunch.’
‘Deal.’
They bought hot chips smothered in salt and vinegar, and dashed across the road to the beach. School had gone back several weeks ago, but it was the weekend and the weather was divine. The long crescent of sand that bordered the bay was lined with families enjoying the sunshine, sand and water. Children’s laughter, the sounds of waves whooshing up onto the beach and the cries of seagulls greeted them. Divine! She lifted her face to the sun and breathed it all in.
They found a spare patch of sand and Meg stretched out her legs, relishing the warmth of the sun on the bare skin of her arms and legs. She glanced at Ben as he hunkered down beside her. He must be hot.
‘You should’ve changed into shorts.’
He unwrapped the chips. ‘I’m good.’
Yeah, but he’d look great in shorts, and—
She blinked. What on earth…? And then the scent of salt and vinegar hit her and her stomach grumbled and her mouth watered. With a grin he held the packet towards her.
They ate, not saying much, just listening to the familiar sounds of children at play and the splashing of the tiny waves that broke onshore. Nearby a moored yacht’s rigging clanged in the breeze, making a pelican lift out of the water and wheel up into the air. It was summer in the bay—her favourite time of year and her favourite patch of paradise.
She wasn’t sure when they both started to observe the family—just that at some stage the nearby mother, father and two small girls snagged their attention. One of the little girls dashed down the beach towards them, screaming with delight when her father chased after her. Seizing her securely around the waist, he lifted her off her feet to swing her above his head.
‘Higher, Daddy, higher!’ she squealed, laughing down at him, her face alive with delight.
The other little girl, smaller than the first, lurched across the sand on chubby, unsteady legs to fling her arms around her father’s thigh. She grinned and chortled up at him.
Meg swallowed and her chest started to cramp. Both of those little girls literally glowed with their love for their father.
She tore her gaze away to stare directly out in front of her, letting the sunlight that glinted off the water to dazzle and half-blind her.
‘More?’ Ben’s voice came out hoarse and strained as he held the chips out to her.
She shook her head. Her appetite had fled.
He scrunched the remaining chips and she was aware of every crackle the paper made. And how white his knuckles had turned. She went back to staring directly out in front of her, tracking a speedboat as it zoomed past.
But it didn’t drown out the laughter of the two little girls.
‘Did you ever consider what you were depriving your child of when you decided to go it alone, Meg?’
His voice exploded at her—tight and barely controlled. She stiffened. And then she rounded on him. ‘Don’t take that high moral tone with me, Ben Sullivan! Since when in your entire adult life, have you ever put another person’s needs or wants above your own?’
He blinked. ‘I—’
‘I didn’t twist your arm. You had some say in the matter, you know.’
Her venom took him off guard. It took her off guard too, but his question had sliced right into the core of her. She’d thought she’d considered that question. She’d thought it wouldn’t matter. But after seeing that family—the girls with their father, their love and sense of belonging—she felt the doubt demons rise to plague her.
‘Families come in all shapes and sizes,’ she hissed, more for her own benefit than his. Her baby would want for nothing! ‘As for depriving my child of a father? Well, I don’t rate my father very highly, and I sure as heck don’t rate yours. There are worse things than not having a father.’
Ben’s head rocked back in shock. Meg’s sentiment didn’t surprise him, but the way she expressed it did.
He clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might break teeth. A weight pressed against his chest, making it difficult to breathe.
‘Just like you don’t rate me as a father, right?’ he rasped out, acid burning his throat.
Eventually he turned to look at her. She immediately glanced away, but not before he recognised the scepticism stretching through her eyes. The weight in his chest grew heavier. If Meg didn’t have any faith in him…
No, dammit! He clenched his hands. Meg didn’t have all the answers.
He swore.
She flinched.
He kept his voice low. ‘So I’m suitable as a sperm bank but not as anything more substantial?’ Was that how she saw him?
She stared straight back out in front of her. ‘That surprises you?’
‘It does when that’s your attitude, Meg.’
That made her turn to look at him.
Dammit it all to hell, she was supposed to know him!
A storm raged in the hazel depths of her eyes. He watched her swallow. She glanced down at her hands and then back up. ‘How long have you wanted to be a father, Ben? A week?’
It was his turn to glance away.
‘I’ve wanted to be a mother for as long as I can remember.’
‘And you think that gives you more rights?’
‘It means I know what to expect. It means I know I’m not going to change my mind next week. It means I know I’m committed to this child.’ She slapped a hand to the sand. ‘It means I know precisely what I’m getting into—that I’ve put plans into place in anticipation of the baby’s arrival, and that I’ve adjusted my life so I can ensure my baby gets the very best care and has the very best life I can possibly give it. And now you turn up and think you have the right to tell me I’m selfish!’
She let out a harsh laugh that had his stomach churning.
‘When have you ever committed to anybody or anything? You’ve never even taken a job on full-time. You’ve certainly never committed to a woman or what’s left of your family. It’s barely possible to get you to commit to dinner at the end of next week!’
‘I’m committed to you.’ The words burst out of him. ‘If you’d ever needed me, Meg, I’d have come home.’
She smiled then, but there was an ache of sadness behind her eyes that he didn’t understand. ‘Yes, I believe you would’ve. But once I was back on my feet you’d have been off like a flash again, wouldn’t you?’
He had no answer to that.
‘The thing is, Ben, your trooping all over the world having adventures is fine in a best friend, but it’s far from fine in a father.’
She had a point. He knew she did. And until he knew how involved he wanted to be he had no right to push her or judge her. ‘I didn’t mean to imply you were selfish. I think you’ll be a great mum.’
But it didn’t mean there wasn’t room for him in the baby’s life too.
She gestured to her right, to where that family now sat eating sandwiches, but she didn’t look at them again. ‘Is that what you really want?’
He stared at the picture of domestic bliss and had to repress a shudder. He wasn’t doing marriage. Ever. He didn’t believe in it. But…The way those little girls looked at their father—their faces so open and trusting. And loving. The thought of having someone look up to him like that both terrified and electrified him.
If he wanted to be a father—a proper father—his life would have to change. Drastically.
‘Ben, I want a better father for my child than either one of us had.’
‘Me too.’ That at least was a no-brainer.
She eyed him for a moment. Whenever she was in the sun for any length of time the green flecks within the brown of her iris grew in intensity. They flashed and sparkled now, complementing the aqua water only a few feet away.
Aqua eyes.
A smattering of freckles across her nose.
Blonde hair that brushed her shoulders.
And she smelled like pineapple and coconuts.
She was a golden goddess, encapsulating all he most loved about summer.
‘Ben!’
He snapped to. ‘What?’
Her nostrils flared, drawing his attention back to her freckles. She glanced away and then back again. ‘I said, you do know that I’m not anti-commitment the way you are, right?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
His attention remained on those cute freckles, their duskiness highlighting the golden glow of her skin. He’d never noticed how cute they were before—cute and kind of cheeky. They were new to him. This conversation wasn’t. Commitment versus freedom. They’d thrashed it out endless time. To her credit, though, Meg had never tried to change his mind. They’d simply agreed to disagree. Even that one stupid time they had kissed.
Damn it! He’d promised never to think about that again.
‘Then you should also be aware that I don’t expect to “deprive”—’ she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers ‘—my child of a father for ever.’
He frowned, still distracted by those freckles, and then by the shine on her lips when she moistened them. ‘Right.’
She hauled in a breath and let it out again. The movement wafted a slug of coconut infused pineapple his way. He drew it into his lungs slowly, the way he would breathe in a finely aged Chardonnay before bringing the glass to his lips and sipping it.