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Ben’s heart pounded. He could still taste the fear in his mouth when he’d first caught sight of the gun—could still feel the grip of a hard hand on the back of his neck when he’d turned to run. He’d been convinced his father would kill them.
Ben pressed a hand to his forehead and drew oxygen into his lungs. Meg wrapped her arm through his. It helped anchor him back in the present moment, drawing him out of that awful one twenty years ago.
‘My parents must’ve cared for each other once—maybe even loved each other—but marriage for them resulted in my father being in prison and my mother dumping me with Elsie and never being heard from again.’
‘Not all marriages end like that, Ben.’
‘True.’
But he had the same raging passions inside him that his parents had. He had no intention of setting them free. That was why he kept his interludes with women light and brief. It was safer all round.
Gently, he detached his arm from Meg’s. ‘Whatever else I do, though, marriage is something I’m never going to risk.’
She shook her head and went back to lifting sand and letting it trickle through her hand. ‘This is one of those circular arguments that just go round And round without ending. We agreed to disagree about this years ago.’
He heard her unspoken question. So why bring it up now?
‘Regardless of what you think, Meg, I do mean to be a good father. But that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about marriage.’
She stopped playing with the sand. ‘And you think because I’m feeling a little sexy that I’m going to weave you into my fantasies and cast you in the role of handsome prince?’ She snorted. ‘Court jester, more like. It’d take more than a kiss for me to fall in love with you, Ben Sullivan. I may have baby brain, but that doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a moron. Especially—’ she shot to her feet ‘—when I don’t believe you’ll hang around long enough for anyone to fall in love with you anyway.’
He didn’t argue the point any further. Only time would prove to her that he really did mean to stick around.
He scrambled to his feet. He just had to make sure he didn’t kiss her again. Meg didn’t do one-night stands—it wasn’t how she was built inside. She got emotionally involved. He knew that. He’d always known that. He pushed his shoulders back and shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts. He’d made a lot of mistakes in his sorry life, but he wasn’t making that one.
He set off after Meg. ‘What would you like me to do in relation to the wedding this week?’
She’d walked back to where they’d kicked off their shoes. He held her arm as she slid hers back on. He gritted his teeth in an effort to counter the warm temptation of her skin.
She blinked up at him as she slid a finger around the back of one of her sandals. She righted herself and moved out of his grasp. ‘There’s still a lot to do.’ She glanced at him again. ‘How busy are you this coming week?’
He’d be hard at work, casting around for employment opportunities, putting out feelers and sifting through a few preliminary ideas he’d had, but he’d find time to help her out with this blasted wedding. The days of leaving everything up to her were through. ‘I have loads of time.’
‘Well, for a start, I need those names from Elsie.’
‘Right.’
They set off back towards the club and Meg’s car. ‘I don’t suppose you’d organise the invitations, would you? I wasn’t going to worry with anything too fancy. I was just going to grab a few packets of nice invitations from the newsagents and write them out myself. Calligraphy is unnecessary—they just need to be legible.’
‘Leave it to me.’
‘Thank you. That’ll be a big help.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I would be very, very grateful if you could find me a gardener. I just don’t have the spare time to keep on top of it at the moment. This wedding will be that garden’s last hurrah, because I’m having all those high-maintenance annuals ripped out and replaced with easy-care natives.’
He nodded. ‘Not a problem.’
They drove home in silence. When Meg turned in at her driveway and turned off the ignition she didn’t invite him in for a drink and he didn’t suggest it either. Instead, with a quick goodnight, he headed next door.
The first thing he saw when he entered the kitchen was Elsie, sitting at the table shuffling a deck of cards. Without a word, she dealt out a hand for rummy. Ben hesitated and then sat.
‘How’s Meg?’
‘She’s fine.’
‘Good.’
He shifted. ‘She’d feel a whole lot happier, though, if you’d give her a list of ten people she can invite to the wedding.’
Elsie snorted. He blinked again. Had that been a laugh?
‘She said that although her father won’t admit it, he’d like more than a registry office wedding.’
Elsie snorted again, and this time there was no mistaking it—it was definitely a laugh. ‘I’ll make a deal with you, Ben.’
Good Lord. The woman was practically garrulous. ‘A deal?’
‘For every hand you win, I’ll give you a name.’
He straightened on his chair. ‘You’re on.’
Meg glanced around at a tap on the back door. And then froze. Ben stood there, looking devastatingly delicious, and a traitorous tremor weakened her knees.
With a gulp, she waved him in. Other than a couple of rushed conversations about the wedding, she hadn’t seen much of him during the last two weeks. Work had been crazy, with two of her staff down with the flu, and whenever she had seen Ben and asked what he’d been up to he’d simply answered with a cryptic, ‘I’ve been busy.’ Long, leisurely conversations obviously hadn’t been on either of their agendas.
Her gaze lowered to his lips. Lips that had caressed hers. Lips that had transported her to a place beyond herself and made her yearn for more. So much more. Lips that were moving now.
‘Whatever it is you’re cooking, Meg, no known man would be able to resist it.’
She snapped away and forced a smile.
‘Cookies?’
Her smile became almost genuine at the hope in his voice. ‘Chocolate chip,’ she confirmed.
‘Even better.’ He glanced at her baking companions. ‘Sounds like you guys have been having fun in here.’
Loss suddenly opened up inside her. He was her best friend. They had to find a way to overcome this horrid awkwardness.
She swallowed and hauled in a breath, gestured to the two children. ‘This is Laura, who is ten, and Lochie, who is eight.’
‘We’re brother and sister,’ Laura announced importantly.
‘And Auntie Meg used to go to school with Mummy.’
‘Felicity Strickland,’ Meg said at his raised eyebrow. ‘Laura and Lochie—this is my friend Ben from next door. He went to school with your mummy too. What do you think? Will we let him share our cookies?’
Lochie nodded immediately. ‘That means there’ll be another boy.’
In Lochie’s mind another boy meant an ally, and Meg had a feeling he was heartily sick of being bossed by his sister.
Laura folded her arms. ‘He’ll have to work for them. It’s only fair, because we’ve all worked.’
Meg choked back a laugh. She half expected Ben to make some excuse and back out through the door.
‘What would I have to do?’ he asked Laura instead. ‘I’ll do just about anything for choc-chip cookies. Especially ones that smell this good.’
Laura glanced up at Meg.
‘How about Ben sets the table?’
‘And pours the milk?’
She nodded. ‘Sounds fair.’
Ben tackled setting the table and pouring out four glasses of milk while Meg pulled a second tray of cookies from the oven and set them to cool on the counter. She’d hoped that baking cookies would make her feel super-maternal, but one glance at Ben threw that theory out of the water.
She still felt—
Don’t think about it!
Her hands shook as she placed the first batch of cookies on a plate and handed them to Laura, who took them over to the table.
They ate cookies and drank milk.
But even over the home-baked goodness of choc-chip cookies Meg caught a hint of leather and whisky. She tried to block it from her mind, tried to ignore the longing that burned through her veins.
The children regaled Ben with stories of their Christmas trip to Bali. Meg glanced at Ben and then glanced away again, biting her lip. It was no use telling herself this was just Ben. There was no just Ben about it—only a hard, persistent throb in her blood and an ache in her body.
When the phone rang she leapt to her feet, eager for distraction.
Ben’s eyes zeroed in on her face The moment she returned to the kitchen. ‘Problem?’
She clenched and unclenched her hands. ‘The caterers I had lined up for the wedding have cancelled on me, the rotten—’ she glanced at the children ‘—so-and-sos.’
She pressed her fingers to her temples and paced up and down on the other side of the breakfast bar. The wedding was three weeks away. Less than that. Two weeks and six days. Not that she was counting or anything.
Ben stood. ‘What can I do?’
She glanced at him. She glanced at the children. A plan—devious, and perhaps a little unfair—slid beneath her guard. No, she couldn’t.
Two weeks and six days.
She folded her arms. ‘Are you up for a challenge, Ben Sullivan?’
He rocked back on his heels. ‘What kind of challenge?’
She glanced at the children and then back at him, with enough meaning in her face that he couldn’t possibly mistake her message.
He folded his arms too. ‘Bring it on.’
‘If you keep Laura and Lochie amused for an hour or two, it’ll give me a chance to ring around and find a replacement caterer.’
He glanced at the television. ‘Not a problem.’
She shook her head and glanced out of the kitchen window towards the back yard. There was no mistaking the panic that momentarily filled his eyes. ‘I’ll need peace and quiet.’
Did he even know the first thing about children and how much work they could sometimes be? Laura truly was the kind of child designed to test Ben’s patience to the limit too. And when he found out the truth that being a father wasn’t all beer and skittles—all fun and laughter at the beach and I-love-you-Daddy cuddles—how long before he left?
She did what she could to harden her heart, to stop it from sinking, to cut off its protests.
Lochie’s face lit up. ‘Can we go to the beach? Can we go swimming?’
Relief lit Ben’s face too, but Meg shook her head. ‘Your mum said no swimming.’ Besides, she wanted them all here, right under her nose, where she could keep an eye on them.
Ben glared at her. ‘Why not?’
She reached out and brushed a hand through Lochie’s hair, pulled him against her in a hug. ‘Lochie’s recovering from an ear infection.’
Ben shuffled his feet. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, mate.’
Lochie straightened. ‘We could play Uno. Laura remembered to bring it.’
‘Because you didn’t.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You never do. Do you know how to play?’ she demanded of Ben.
‘No idea.’
‘Then I’ll teach you.’ She took Ben’s hand. ‘Get the game, Lochie.’
‘Please,’ Ben corrected.
Laura blinked. So did Meg. ‘Get the game, please, Lochie,’ Laura amended, leading both males outside as she waxed lyrical about the importance of good manners.
Meg grimaced. Poor Ben. Laura was ten going on eighty. It hardly seemed fair to expect him to cope with her. She glanced down at her baby bump, rested her hand on it before glancing back out of the window. It was an hour. Two hours tops. She’d be nearby, and if he couldn’t deal with Laura for that length of time then he had no right remaining here in Port Stephens at all.
Still, even with that decided Meg couldn’t move from the window. She watched as the trio settled on the outdoor furniture, and as Ben listened while Laura explained the rules of the game in exhaustive detail. His patience touched her. Once the game started he kept both children giggling so hard she found herself wishing she could go outside and join them.
She shook her head. Two weeks and six days. She had a caterer to find.
It took Meg forty minutes’ worth of phone calls before she found a replacement caterer. She glanced at her watch and winced. How on earth was Ben surviving? She raced into the family room to peer out through the glass sliding door that afforded an excellent view of the back yard and started to laugh.
Ben had set up an old slip ‘n’ slide of hers—one they’d played on when they were children—and the three of them were having the time of their lives. Laura giggled, Lochie chortled, and Ben’s whole face had come alive. It shone.
She took a step towards the door, transfixed, her hand reaching out to rest against the glass as if reaching for…
Ben’s face shone.
Her other hand moved to cover her stomach. What if Ben did stay? What if he kept his word and found fatherhood satisfying? What if he didn’t run away?
Her heart thudded as she allowed the idea truly to sink in. The blood vessels in her hand pulsed against the glass. If Ben kept his word then her baby would have a father.
A real father.
She snatched her hand away. She backed up to the sofa. But she couldn’t drag her gaze away from the happy trio in her back yard, watching in amazement as Ben effortlessly stepped in to prevent a spat between the children. He had them laughing again in no time. The man was a natural.
And he had a butt that—
She waved a hand in front of her face to shoo the thought away. She didn’t have time for butts—not even butts as sublime as Ben’s.
Or chests. She blinked and leaned forward. He really did have the most amazing body. He’d kept his shirt on, but it was now so wet it stuck to him like a second skin, outlining every delicious muscle and—
She promptly changed seats and placed her back to the door. She dragged in a breath and tried to control the crazy beating of her heart.
If Ben did overcome his wanderlust…
She swallowed. He’d never lied to her before. Why would he lie to her now? Especially about something as important as their child’s happiness.
No! She shot to her feet. Her child!
She raced to the refrigerator to pour herself an ice-cold glass of water, but when she tipped her head back to drink it her eyes caught on the vivid blue of the water slide and the children’s laughter filled her ears.
Slowly she righted her glass. This was their child. Theirs. She’d let fear cloud her judgement. Not fear for the baby, but fear for herself. Fear that this child might somehow damage her friendship with Ben. Fear that she might come to rely on him too heavily. Fear at having to share her child.
She abandoned her water to grip her hands together. She hadn’t expected to share this baby. In her possessiveness, was she sabotaging Ben’s efforts?
She moistened suddenly dry lips. It would be hard, relinquishing complete control and having to consider someone else’s opinions and ideas about the baby, but behind that there would be a sense of relief too, and comfort. To know she wasn’t in this on her own, that someone else would have her and the baby’s backs.
She’d fully expected to be a single mum—had been prepared for it. But if she didn’t have to go it alone…
If her baby could have a father…
Barely aware of what she was doing, Meg walked back to the double glass doors. Ben had a child under each arm and he was swinging them round and round until they shrieked with laughter. Laura broke away to grab the hose and aimed it directly at his chest. He clutched at the spot as if shot and fell down, feigning injury. Both children immediately pounced on him.
The longer Meg watched them the clearer the picture in her mind became. Her baby could have a mother and a father. Her baby could have it all!
Pictures formed in her mind—pictures of family picnics and trips to the beach, of happy rollicking Christmases, of shared meals and quiet times when the baby was put down and—
She snapped away. Heat rushed through her. Get a grip! Her baby might have a father, but that didn’t mean she and Ben would form a cosy romantic bond and become the ideal picture-perfect family. That would never happen.
Her heart pounded so hard it almost hurt, and she had to close her eyes briefly until she could draw much needed breath into straining lungs.
Ben would never do family in the way she wanted or needed. That stupid kiss ten years ago and the way Ben had bolted from town afterwards had only reinforced what she’d always known—that he would never surrender to the unpredictability and raw emotion of romantic love, with all its attendant highs and lows. She might have baby brain and crazy hormones at the moment, but she’d better not forget that fact—not for a single, solitary moment.
Best friends.
She opened her eyes and nodded. They were best friends who happened to have a child together and they’d remain friends. They could make this work.
She rested her forehead against the glass, her breath fogging it so she saw the trio dimly, through a haze. If only she knew for certain that Ben wouldn’t leave, that he wouldn’t let them down. That he’d stay. She wanted a guarantee, but there weren’t—
She froze.
She turned to press her back against the door. What did Ben want more than anything else in the world?
To be on the crew of a yacht that was sailing around the world.
Did he want that more than he wanted to be a father?
Her heart pounded. Her stomach churned. She pushed away from the door and made for the phone, dialling the number for Dave Clements’ travel agency. ‘Dave? Hi, it’s Meg.’
‘Hey, Meg. Winnie and I are really looking forward to the wedding. How are the preparations coming along?’
‘Oh, God, don’t ask.’
He laughed. ‘If there’s anything I can do?’
‘Actually, I do need to come in and talk to you about organising a honeymoon trip for the happy couple.’
‘Drop in any time and we’ll put together something fabulous for them.’
‘Thank you.’ She swallowed. ‘But that’s not the reason I called.’ Her mouth went dry. She had to swallow again. ‘I’ve been racking my brain, trying to come up with a way to thank Ben. He’s been such a help with the preparations and everything.’
‘And?’
‘Look,’ she started in a rush, ‘you know he’s always wanted to crew on a round-the-world yacht expedition? I wondered if there was a way you could help me make that happen?’
A whistle travelled down the line. She picked up a pen and doodled furiously on the pad by the phone, concentrating on everything but her desire to retract her request.
‘Are you sure that’s what you want, Meg? When I spoke to him through the week it sounded like he was pretty set on staying in Port Stephens.’
She glanced out of the window at Ben and the children. Still laughing. Still having the time of their lives. ‘It’s something he’s always wanted. I want him to at least have the opportunity to turn it down.’
But would he?
‘Okay, leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Thanks, Dave.’
She replaced the receiver. If Ben turned the opportunity down she’d have her guarantee.
If he didn’t?
She swallowed. Well, at least that would be an answer too.
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