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First Comes Baby...
Michelle Douglas


Ben has been Meg’s best friend since childhood. Although their relationship is platonic – except for that one unforgettable kiss – he’d do anything for her. So helping her become a mother is the easiest decision Ben’s ever made – and soon he wants to be more than a friend.Can he convince Meg that he’s ready to do the unthinkable and settle down to be a real father?










Praise for Michelle Douglas

“Douglas’ story is romantic,

humorous and paced just right.”

—RT Book Reviews on Bella’s Impossible Boss

“Laughter, holiday charm and characters with depth

make this an exceptional story.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Nanny Who Saved Christmas

“Moving, heartwarming and absolutely impossible

to put down, The Man Who Saw Her Beauty is another stunning Michelle Douglas romance that’s going straight onto my keeper shelf!” —CataRomance on The Man Who Saw Her Beauty




“No.” Her voice rang clear in the sunny silence.


He shook his head, his mouth a determined line. “This is one of the things you can’t boss me about. I’m not giving way. I’m the father of the baby you’re carrying. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

Just for a moment wild hope lifted through her. Maybe they could make this work. In the next moment she shook it off. She’d thought that exact same thing once before—ten years ago, when they’d kissed. Maybe they could make this work. Maybe she’d be the girl who’d make him stay. Maybe she’d be the girl to defeat his restlessness. All silly schoolgirl nonsense, of course.

And so was this.




About the Author


At the age of eight MICHELLE DOUGLAS was asked what she wanted to be when she grew up. She answered, ‘A writer.’ Years later she read an article about romance writing and thought, Ooh, that’ll be fun. She was right. When she’s not writing she can usually be found with her nose buried in a book. She is currently enrolled in an English Master’s programme for the sole purpose of indulging her reading and writing habits further. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero—husband Greg, who is the inspiration behind all her happy endings.

Michelle would love you to visit her at her website: www.michelle-douglas.com




First Comes Baby…


Michelle Douglas






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my editor, Sally Williamson,

for her keen editorial eye and all her support.

Many, many thanks.




CHAPTER ONE


‘BEN, WOULD YOU consider being my sperm donor?’

Ben Sullivan’s head rocked back at his best friend’s question He thrust his glass of wine to the coffee table before he spilled its contents all over the floor, and spun to face her. Meg held up her hand as if she expected him to interrupt her.

Interrupt her?

He coughed. Choked. He couldn’t breathe, let alone interupt her! When he’d demanded to know what was on her mind this wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Not by a long shot. He’d thought it would be something to do Elsie or her father, but…

He collapsed onto the sofa and wedged himself in tight against the arm. Briefly, cravenly, he wished himself back in Mexico instead of here in Fingal Bay.

A sperm donor? Him?

A giant hand reached out to seize him around the chest, squeezing every last atom of air out of his lungs. A loud buzzing roared in his ears.

‘Let me tell you first why I’d like you as my donor, and then what I see as your role in the baby’s life.’

Her no-nonsense tone helped alleviate the pressure in his chest. The buzzing started to recede. He shot forward and stabbed a finger at her. ‘Why in God’s name do you need a sperm donor? Why are you pursuing IVF at all? You’re not even thirty!’ She was twenty-eight, like him. ‘There’s loads of time.’

‘No, there’s not.’

Everything inside him stilled.

She took a seat at the other end of the sofa and swallowed. He watched the bob of her throat and his hands clenched. She tried to smile but the effort it cost her hurt him.

‘My doctor has told me I’m in danger of becoming infertile.’

Bile burned his throat. Meg had always wanted kids. She owned a childcare centre, for heaven’s sake. She’d be a great mum. It took an enormous force of will to bite back the angry torrent that burned his throat. Railing at fate wouldn’t help her.

‘I’m booking in to have IVF so I can fall pregnant asap.’

Hence the reason she was asking him if he’d be her sperm donor. Him? He still couldn’t get his head around it. But…’ You’ll make a brilliant mum, Meg.’

‘Thank you.’ Her smile was a touch shy. It was the kind of smile that could turn the screws on a guy. ‘Not everyone will be as understanding, I fear, but…’ She leaned towards him, her blonde hair brushing her shoulders. ‘I’m not scared of being a single mum, and financially I’m doing very well. I have no doubt of my ability to look after not only myself but whoever else should come along.’

Neither did he. He’d meant it when he’d said she’d be a great mother. She wouldn’t be cold and aloof. She’d love her child. She’d fill his or her days with love and laughter, and it would never have a moment’s doubt about how much it was cherished.

His chest burned. An ache started up behind his eyes. She’d give her child the kind of childhood they had both craved.

Meg straightened. ‘Now, listen. For the record, if you hate the idea, if it makes you the slightest bit uncomfortable, then we just drop the subject, okay?’

His heart started to thud.

‘Ben?’

She had her bossy-boots voice on and it almost made him smile. He gave a hard nod. ‘Right.’

‘Right.’ Her hands twisted together and she dragged in a deep breath. Her knuckles turned white. Ben’s heart thumped harder.

‘Ben, you’re my dearest friend. I trust you with my life. So it somehow only seems right to trust you with another life—a life that will be so important to me.’

He closed his eyes and hauled in more air.

‘You’re healthy, fit and intelligent—everything I want for my child.’

He opened his eyes again.

She grinned. ‘And, while you will never, ever get me to admit this in front of another living soul, there isn’t another man whose genes I admire more.’

Behind the grin he sensed her sincerity. And, just like every other time he visited, Meg managed to melt the hardness that had grown in him while he’d been away jetting around the world.

‘I want a baby so badly I ache with it.’ Her smile faded. ‘But having a baby like this—through IVF—there really isn’t anyone else to share the journey with me. And an anonymous donor…’ She glanced down at her hands. ‘I don’t know—it just seems a bit cold-blooded, that’s all. But if that donor were you, knowing you were a part of it…’

She met his gaze. He read in her face how much this meant to her.

‘Well, that wouldn’t be so bad, you know? I mean, when my child eventually asks about its father I’ll at least be able to answer his or her questions.’

Yeah, but he’d be that father. He ran a finger around the collar of his tee shirt ‘What kind of questions?’

‘Hair colour, eye colour. If you were fun, if you were kind.’ She pulled in a breath. ‘Look, let me make it clear that I know you have absolutely no desire to settle down, and I know you’ve never wanted kids. That’s not what I’m asking of you. I’m not asking you for any kind of commitment. I see your role as favourite uncle and nothing more.’

She stared at him for a moment. ‘I know you, Ben. I promise your name won’t appear on the birth certificate unless you want to. I promise the child will never know your identity. Also,’ she added, ‘I would absolutely die if you were to offer me any kind of financial assistance.’

That made him smile. Meg was darn independent—he’d give her that. Independent and bossy. He suspected she probably thought she made more money than him too.

The fact was neither one of them was crying poor.

‘I know that whether you agree to my proposition or not you’ll love and support any child of mine the way you love and support me.’

That was true.

She stared at him in a way that suddenly made him want to fidget.

She curled her legs beneath her. ‘I can see there’s something you want to say. Please, I know this is a big ask so don’t hold back.’

Her words didn’t surprise him. There’d never been any games between him and Meg. Ben didn’t rate family—not his mother, not his father and not his grandmother. Oh, he understood he owed his grandmother. Meg lectured him about it every time he was home, and she was right. Elsie had fed, clothed and housed him, had made sure he’d gone to school and visited the doctor when he was sick, but she’d done it all without any visible signs of pleasure. His visits now didn’t seem to give her any pleasure either. They were merely a duty on both sides.

He’d make sure she never wanted for anything in her old age, but as far as he was concerned that was where his responsibility to her ended. He only visited her to make Meg happy.

He mightn’t rate family, but he rated friendship—and Meg was the best friend he had. Megan Parrish had saved him. She’d taken one look at his ten-year-old self, newly abandoned on Elsie’s doorstep, and had announced that from that day forth they were to be best friends for ever. She’d given his starved heart all the companionship, loyalty and love it had needed. She’d nurtured them both with fairytales about families who loved one another; and with the things they’d do, the adventures they’d have, when they grew up.

She’d jogged beside him when nothing else would ease the burn in his soul. He’d swum beside her when nothing else would do for her but to immerse herself in an underwater world—where she would swim for as long as she could before coming up for air.

And he’d watched more than once as she’d suffered the crippling agony of endometriosis. Nothing in all his life had ever made him feel so helpless as to witness her pain and be unable to ease it. His hands clenched. He hadn’t realised she still suffered from it.

‘Ben?’

‘I’m concerned about your health.’ Wouldn’t her getting pregnant be an unnecessary risk at this point? ‘That’s what I want to talk about.’

He shifted on the sofa to survey her more fully. She held her glass out and he topped it up from the bottle of Chardonnay they’d opened during dinner. Her hand shook and something inside him clenched. He slammed the bottle to the coffee table. ‘Are you okay?’ he barked without preamble.

She eyed him over the glass as she took a sip. ‘Yes.’

His tension eased. She wouldn’t lie to him. ‘But?’

‘But it’s a monthly problem.’ She shrugged. ‘You know that.’

But he’d thought she’d grown out of it!

Because that’s what you wanted to think.

His hands fisted. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

Her face softened in the dim light and he wanted to reach across and pull her into his arms and just hold her…breathe her in, press all of his good health and vitality into her body so she would never be sick again. ‘No doubt Elsie’s told you that I’ve had a couple of severe bouts of endometriosis over the last few months?’

His stomach rolled and roiled. He nodded. When he’d roared into town on his bike earlier in the day Meg had immediately sent him next door to duty-visit his grandmother, even though they all knew he only returned to Fingal Bay to visit Meg. Elsie’s two topics of conversation had been Meg’s health and Meg’s father’s health. The news had been chafing at him ever since.

‘Is the endometriosis the reason you’re in danger of becoming infertile?’

‘Yes.’ She sat back, but her knuckles had turned white again. ‘Which is why I’m lusting after your genes and…’

‘And?’ His voice came out hoarse. How could fate do this to his best friend?

‘I don’t know what to call it. Maybe there isn’t actually a term for it, but it seems somehow wrong to create a child with an anonymous person. So, I want your in-their-prime genes and your lack of anonymity.’

Holding her gaze, he rested his elbows on his knees. ‘No fathering responsibilities at all?’

‘God, no! If I thought for one moment you felt pressured in that direction I’d end this discussion now.’

And have a baby with an anonymous donor? He could see she would, but he could also see there’d always be a worry at the back of her mind. A fear of the unknown and what it could bring.

There was one very simple reason why Meg had turned to him—she trusted him. And he trusted her. She knew him, and knew how deftly he avoided commitment of any kind. She knew precisely what she was asking. And what she’d be getting if he went along with this scheme of hers.

If he agreed to be her sperm donor it would be him helping her become a mother. End of story. It wouldn’t be his child. It would be Meg’s.

Still, he knew Meg. He knew she’d risk her own health in an attempt to fall pregnant and then carry the child full term and give birth to it. Everything inside him wanted to weep at the thought of her never becoming a mother, but he couldn’t be party to her risking her health further. He dragged a hand back through his hair and tried to find the words he needed.

‘I will tell you something, though, that is far less admirable.’ She sank back against the arm of the sofa and stretched her legs out until one of them touched his knee. ‘I’m seriously looking forward to not having endometriosis.’

It took a moment for her words to reach him. he’d been too intent on studying the shape of her leg. And just like that he found himself transported to that moment ten years ago when he’d realised just how beautiful Meg had become. A moment that had started out as an attempt at comfort and turned passionate In the blink of an eye.

The memory made him go cold all over. He’d thought he’d banished that memory from his mind for ever. That night he’d almost made the biggest mistake of his whole sorry life and risked destroying the only thing that meant anything to him—Meg’s friendship. He shook his head, his heart suddenly pounding It was stupid to remember it now. Forget it!

And then her words reached him. He leaned forward, careful not to touch her. ‘What did you just say about the endometriosis?’

‘You can’t get endometriosis while you’re pregnant. Pregnancy may even cure me of it.’

If he did what she asked, if he helped her get pregnant, she might never get endometriosis again.

He almost hollered out his assent before self-preservation kicked in. Not that he needed protecting from Meg, but he wanted them on the same page before he agreed to her plan.

‘Let me just get this straight. I want to make sure we’re working on the same assumptions here. If I agree to be your sperm donor I’d want to be completely anonymous. I wouldn’t want anyone to know. I wouldn’t want the child to ever know. Just like it wouldn’t if you’d gone through a sperm bank.’

‘Not all sperm banks are anonymous.’ She shrugged. ‘But I figured you’d want anonymity.’

She had that right. If the child knew who its father was it would have expectations. He didn’t do expectations.

‘And this is your baby, Meg. The only thing I’d be doing is donating sperm, right?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I’d be Uncle Ben, nothing more?’

‘Nothing more.’

He opened and closed his hands. Meg would be a brilliant mother and she deserved every opportunity of making that dream come true. She wasn’t asking for more than he could give.

He stood. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’ll help out any way I can.’

Meg leapt to her feet. Her heart pounded so hard and grew so big in her chest she thought she might take off into the air.

When she didn’t, she leapt forward and threw her arms around all six-feet-three-inches of honed male muscle that was her dearest friend in the world. ‘Thank you, Ben! Thank you!’

Dear, dear Ben.

She pulled back when his heat slammed into her, immediately reminded of the vitality and utter life contained by all that honed muscle and hot flesh. A reminder that hit her afresh during each and every one of Ben’s brief visits.

Her pulse gave a funny little skip and she hugged herself. A baby!

Nevertheless, she made herself step back and swallow the excess of her excitement. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to take some time to think it over?’ She had no intention of railroading him into a decision as important as this. She wanted—needed—him to be comfortable and at peace with this decision.

‘He shook his head. ‘I know everything I need to. Plus I know you’ll be a great mum. And you know everything you need to about me. If you’re happy to be a single parent, then I’m happy to help you out.’

She hugged herself again. She knew her grin must be stupidly broad, but she couldn’t help it. ‘You don’t know what this means to me.’

‘Yes, I do.’

Yes, he probably did. His answering grin made her stomach soften, and the memory of their one illicit kiss stole through her—as it usually did when emotions ran high between the two of them. She bit back a sigh. she’d done her best to forget that kiss, but ten years had passed and still she remembered it.

She stiffened. Not that she wanted to repeat it!

Good Lord! If things had got out of control that night, as they’d almost threatened to, they’d—

She suppressed a shudder. Well, for one thing they wouldn’t be having this conversation now. In fact she’d probably never have clapped eyes on Ben again.

She swallowed her sudden nausea. ‘How’s the jet lag?’ She made her voice deliberately brisk.

He folded his arms and hitched up his chin. It emphasised the shadow on his jaw. Emphasised the disreputable bad-boy languor—the cocky swing to his shoulders and the looselimbed ease of his hips. ‘I keep telling you, I don’t get jet lag. One day you’ll believe me.’

He grinned the slow grin that had knocked more women than she could count off their feet.

But not her.

She shook her head. She had no idea how he managed to slip in and out of different time zones so easily. ‘I made a cheese and fruit platter, if you’re interested, and I know it’s only spring, and still cool, but as it’s nearly a full moon I thought we could sit out on the veranda and admire the view.’

He shrugged with lazy ease. ‘Sounds good to me.’

They moved to the padded chairs on the veranda. In the moonlight the arc of the bay glowed silver and the lights on the water winked and shimmered. Meg drew a breath of saltlaced air into her lungs. The night air cooled the overheated skin of her cheeks and neck, and eventually helped to slow the crazy racing of her pulse.

But her heart remained large and swollen in her chest. A baby!

‘Elsie said your father’s been ill?’

That brought her back to earth with a thump. She sliced off a piece of Camembert and nodded.

He frowned. The moonlight was brighter than the lamponly light of the living room they’d just retired from, and she could see each and every one of his emotions clearly—primarily frustration and concern for her.

‘Elsie said he’d had a kidney infection.’

Both she and Ben called his grandmother by her given name. Not Grandma, or Nanna, or even an honorary Aunt Elsie. It was what she preferred.

Meg bit back a sigh. ‘It was awful.’ It was pointless being anything other than honest with Ben, even as she tried to shield him from the worst of her father and Elsie. ‘He became frail overnight. I moved back home to look after him for a bit.’ She’d given up her apartment in Nelson Bay, but not her job as director of the childcare centre she owned, even if her second-in-command had had to step in and take charge for a week. Moving back home had only ever been meant as a temporary measure.

And it hadn’t proved a very successful one. It hadn’t drawn father and daughter closer. If anything her father had only retreated further. However, it had ensured he’d received three square meals a day and taken his medication.

‘How is he now?’

‘It took him a couple of months, but he’s fit as a fiddle again. He’s moved into a small apartment in Nelson Bay. He said he wanted to be closer to the amenities—the doctor, the shops, the bowling club.’

Nelson Bay was ten minutes away and the main metropolitan centre of Port Stephens. Fingal Bay crouched at Port Stephens’ south-eastern edge—a small seaside community that was pretty and unspoilt. It was where she and Ben had grown up.

She loved it.

Ben didn’t.

‘Though I have a feeling that was just an excuse and he simply couldn’t stand being in the same house as his only daughter any longer.’

Ben’s glass halted halfway to his mouth and he swore at whatever he saw in her face. ‘Hell, Meg, why do you have to take this stuff so much to heart?’

After all this time. She heard his unspoken rider. She rubbed her chest and stared out at the bay and waited for the ache to recede.

‘Anyway—’ his frown grew ferocious ‘—I bet he just didn’t want you sacrificing your life to look after him.’

She laughed. Dear Ben. ‘You’re sure about that, are you?’ Ever since Meg’s mother had died when she was eight years old her father had…What? Gone missing in action? Given up? Forgotten he had a daughter? Oh, he’d been there physically. He’d continued to work hard and rake in the money. But he’d shut himself off emotionally—even from her, his only child.

When she glanced back at Ben she found him staring out at the bay, lips tight and eyes narrowed to slits. She had a feeling he wasn’t taking in the view at all. The ache in her chest didn’t go away. ‘I don’t get them, you know.’

‘Me neither.’ He didn’t turn. ‘The difference between you and me, Meg, is that I’ve given up trying to work them out. I’ve given up caring.’

She believed the first statement, but not the second. Not for a moment.

He swung to glare at her. ‘I think it’s time you stopped trying to understand them and caring so much about it all too.’

If only it were that easy. She shrugged and changed the topic. ‘How was it today, with Elsie?’

His lip curled. ‘The usual garrulous barrel of laughs.’

She winced. When she and Ben had been ten, his mother had dumped him with his grandmother. She’d never returned. She’d never phoned. Not once. Elsie, who had never exactly been lively, had become even less so. Meg couldn’t never remember a single instance when Elsie had hugged Ben or showed him the smallest sign of affection. ‘Something’s going on with the both of them. They’ve become as thick as thieves.’

‘Yeah, I got that feeling too.’

Her father had come to fatherhood late, Elsie had come to motherhood early, and her daughter—Ben’s mother—had fallen pregnant young too. All of which made her father and Elsie contemporaries. She shook her head. They still seemed unlikely allies to her.

‘But…’ Ben shifted on his chair. ‘Do we really care?’

Yes, unfortunately she did. Unlike her father, she couldn’t turn her feelings off so easily. Unlike Ben, she couldn’t bury them so deep they’d never see the light of day again.

Ben clenched a fist. ‘You know what gets me? That you’re now stuck looking after this monstrosity of a white elephant of a house.’

She stilled. Ben didn’t know? ‘I’m not precisely stuck with it, Ben. The house is now mine—he gifted it to me. He had the deeds transferred into my name before he left.’

His jaw slackened. ‘He what? Why?’

She cut another slice of Camembert, popped it in her mouth and then shrugged. ‘Search me.’

He leaned forward. ‘And you accepted it?’

She had. And she refused to flinch at the incredulity in his voice. Some sixth sense had told her to, had warned her that something important hinged on her accepting this ‘monstrosity of a white elephant of a house’, as Ben called it.

‘Why?’

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to explain it to Ben, though. ‘It seemed important to him.’

Dark blue eyes glared into hers. She knew their precise colour, even if she couldn’t make it out in the moonlight.

‘You’re setting yourself up for more disappointment,’ he growled.

‘Maybe, but now nobody can argue that I don’t have enough room to bring up a baby, because I most certainly do.’

He laughed. Just as she’d meant him to. ‘Not when you’re living in a five-bedroom mansion with a formal living room, a family room, a rumpus and a three car garage,’ he agreed.

‘But?’

‘Hell, it must be a nightmare to clean.’

‘It’s not so bad.’ She grinned. ‘Confession time—I have a cleaning lady.’

‘Give me a tent any day.’

A tent was definitely more Ben’s style.

She straightened. ‘You’re home for a week, right?’ Ben never stayed longer than a week. ‘Do you mind if I make us an appointment with my doctor for Wednesday or Thursday?’

‘While I’m in Fingal Bay, Meg, I’m yours to command.’

The thing was, he meant it. Her heart swelled even more. ‘Thank you.’ She stared at him and something inside her stirred. She shook it away and helped herself to more cheese, forced herself to stare out at the bay. ‘Now, you’ve told me how you ended up in Mexico when I thought you were leading a tour group to Machu Picchu, but where are you heading to next?’

Ben led adventure tours all around the world. He worked on a contract basis for multiple tour companies. He was in demand too, which meant he got to pick and choose where he went and what he did.

‘The ski fields of Canada.’

He outlined his upcoming travel plans and his face lit up. Meg wondered what he’d do once he’d seen everything. Start at the beginning again? ‘Have you crewed on a yacht sailing around the world yet?’

‘Not yet.’

It was the goal on his bucket list he most wanted to achieve. And she didn’t doubt that he eventually would. ‘It must take a while to sail around the world. You sure you could go that long without female company?’

‘Haven’t you heard of a girl in every port?’

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. The problem was with Ben it probably wasn’t a joke.

Ben never dated a woman for longer than two weeks. He was careful not to date any woman long enough for her to become bossy or possessive. She doubted he ever would. Ben injected brand-new life into the word footloose. She’d never met anyone so jealous of his freedom, who fought ties and commitment so fiercely—and not just in his love-life either.

Her stomach clenched, and then she smiled. It was the reason he was the perfect candidate.

She gripped her hands together. A baby!




CHAPTER TWO


I’M PREGNANT!!!

The words appeared in large type on Ben’s computer screen and a grin wider than the Great St Bernard Pass spread across his face.

Brilliant news, he typed back. Congratulations!!!

He signed off as Uncle Ben. He frowned at that for a moment, and then hit ‘send’ with a shake of his head and another grin. It had been a month since his visit home, and now…Meg—a mum-to-be! He slumped in his chair and ran a hand back through his hair. He’d toast her in the bar tonight with the rest of the crew.

He went to switch off his computer but a new e-mail had hit his inbox: FAVOURITE Uncle Ben! Love, M xxx

He tried the words out loud. ‘Favourite Uncle Ben.’ He shook his head again, and with a grin set off into the ice and snow of a Canadian ski slope.

Over the next two months Ben started seeing pregnant women everywhere—in Whistler ski lodges, lazing on the beaches of the Pacific islands, where he’d led a diving expedition, on a layover in Singapore, and in New Zealand before and after he led a small team on a six day hike from the Bay of Islands down to Trounson Kauri Park.

Pregnant women were suddenly everywhere, and they filled his line of vision. A maternal baby bulge had taken on the same fascination for him as the deep-sea pearls he collected for himself, the rare species of coral he hunted for research purposes, and his rare sightings of Tasmanian devils in the ancient Tasmanian rainforest. He started striking up conversations with pregnant women—congratulating them on the upcoming addition to their family.

To a woman, each and every one of them beamed back at him, their excitement and the love they already felt for their unborn child a mirror of how he knew Meg would be feeling. Damn it! He needed to find a window in his schedule to get home and see her, to share in her excitement.

In the third month he started hearing horror stories.

He shot off to Africa to lead a three-week safari tour, clapping his hands over his ears and doing all he could to put those stories out of his mind. Meg was healthy. And she was strong too—both emotionally and physically. Not to mention smart. His hand clenched. She’d be fine. Nothing bad would happen to her or the baby.

It wouldn’t!

‘You want to tell me what’s eating you?’ Stefan, the director of the tour company Ben was contracted to, demanded of Ben on his second night in Lusaka, Zambia. ‘You’re as snarly as a lion with a thorn in its paw.’

Ben had worked for Stefan for over five years. They’d formed a friendship based on their shared love of adventure and the great outdoors, but it suddenly struck Ben that he knew nothing about the other man’s personal life. ‘Do you have any kids, Stefan?’

He hadn’t known he’d meant to ask the question until it had shot out of his mouth. Stefan gave him plenty of opportunity to retract it, but Ben merely shoved his shoulders back and waited. That was when Stefan shifted on his bar stool.

‘You got some girl knocked up, Ben?’

He hadn’t. He rolled his shoulders. At least not in the way Stefan meant. ‘My best friend at home is pregnant. She’s ec static about it, and I’ve been thrilled for her, but I’ve started hearing ugly stories.’

‘What kind of stories?’

Ben took a gulp of his beer. ‘Stories involving morning sickness and how debilitating it can be. Fatigue.’ Bile filled his mouth and he slammed his glass down. ‘Miscarriages. High blood pressure. Diabetes. Sixty-hour labours!’ He spat each word out with all the venom that gnawed at his soul.

His hand clenched. So help him God, if any of those things happened to Meg…

‘Being a father is the best thing I’ve ever done with my life.’

Ben’s head rocked up to meet Stefan’s gaze. What he saw there made his blood start to pump faster. A crack opened up in his chest. ‘How many?’ he croaked.

Stefan held up three fingers and Ben’s jaw dropped.

Stefan clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Sure, mate, there are risks, but I bet you a hundred bucks your friend will be fine. If she’s a friend of yours she won’t be an airhead, so I bet you’ll find she’s gone into all this with her eyes wide open.’

Meg had, he suddenly realised. But had he? For a moment the roaring in his ears drowned out the noise of the rowdy bar.

It downed out everything. Stefan’s lips moved. It took an effort of will to focus on the words emerging from them.

‘…and she’ll have the hubby and the rest of her family to help her out and give her the support she’ll need.’

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and focused on his breathing. ‘She’s going to be a single mum.’ She had no partner to help her, and as far as family went…Well, that had all gone to hell in a hand basket years ago. Meg’s father and Elsie? Fat lot of good they’d be. Meg had no one to help her out, to offer her support. No one. Not even him—the man who’d helped get her pregnant.

A breath whistled out of Stefan. ‘Man, that’s tough.’

All the same, he found himself bristling on Meg’s behalf. ‘She’ll cope just fine. She’s smart and independent and—’

‘I’m not talking about the mum-to-be, mate. I’m talking about the baby. I mean it’s tough on the baby. A kid deserves to have a mother and a father.’

Ben found it suddenly hard to swallow. And breathe. Or speak. ‘Why?’ he croaked.

‘Jeez, Ben, parenting is hard work. When one person hits the wall the other one can take over. When one gets sick, the other one’s there. Besides, it means the kid gets exposed to two different views of the world—two different ways of doing things and two different ways of solving a problem. Having two parents opens up the world more for a child. From where I’m sitting, every kid deserves that.’

Ben’s throat went desert-dry. He wanted to moisten it, to down the rest of his beer in one glorious gulp, but his hands had started to shake. He dragged them off the table and into his lap, clenched them. All he could see in his mind’s eye was Meg, heavily pregnant with a child that had half his DNA.

When he’d agreed to help her out he hadn’t known he’d feel this…responsible.

‘But all that aside,’ Stefan continued, ‘a baby deserves to be loved unconditionally by the two people who created it. I know I’m talking about an ideal world, here, Ben, but…I just think every kid deserves that love.’

The kind of love he and Meg hadn’t received.

The kind of love he was denying his child.

He swiped a hand in front of his face. No! Her child!

‘You’ll understand one day, when you have your own kids, mate.’

‘I’m never—’

He couldn’t finish the sentence. Because he was, wasn’t he? He was about to become a father. And he knew in his bones with a clarity that stole his breath that Uncle Ben would never make up for the lack of a father in his child’s life.

His child.

He turned back to Stefan. ‘You’re going to have to find someone to replace me. I can’t lead Thursday’s safari.’ Three weeks in the heart of Africa? He shook his head. He didn’t have that kind of time to spare. He had to get home and make sure Meg was all right.

He had to get home and make sure the baby was all right.




CHAPTER THREE


A MOTORBIKE TURNED in at the end of the street. Meg glanced up from weeding the garden and listened. That motorbike sounded just like Ben’s, though it couldn’t be. He wasn’t due back in the country for another seven weeks.

She pressed her hands into the small of her back and stretched as well as she could while still on her knees. This house that her father had given her took a lot of maintenance—more than her little apartment ever had. She’d blocked out Saturday mornings for gardening, but something was going to have to give before the baby came. She just wouldn’t have time for the upkeep on this kind of garden then.

She glanced down at her very small baby bump and a thrill shot through her. She rested a hand against it—her baby—and all felt right with the world.

And then the motorbike stopped. Right outside her house.

She leapt up and charged around to the front of the house, a different kind of grin building inside her. Ben? One glance at the rangy broad-shouldered frame confirmed it.

Still straddling his bike, he pulled off his helmet and shook out his too-long blond-streaked hair. He stretched his neck first to the left and then to the right before catching sight of her. He stilled, and then the slow grin that hooked up one side of his face lit him up from the inside out and hit her with its impact.

Good Lord. She stumbled. No wonder so many women had fallen for him over the years—he was gorgeous! She knew him so well that his physical appearance barely registered with her these days.

Except…

Except when his smile slipped and she read the uncertainty in his face. Her heart flooded with warmth. This was the first time he’d seen her since she’d become pregnant. Was he worried she wouldn’t keep her word? That she’d expect more from him than he was willing or able to give?

She stifled a snort. As if!

While she normally delighted in teasing him—and this was an opportunity almost too good to pass up—he had made this dream of hers possible. It was only fair to lay his fears to rest as soon as she could.

With mock-seductive slowness she pulled off her gardening gloves one finger at a time and tossed them over her shoulder, and then she sashayed down the garden path and out the gate to where he still straddled his bike. She pulled her T-shirt tight across her belly and turned side-on so he could view it in all its glory.

‘Hello, Uncle Ben. I’d like you to meet my baby bump—affectionately known as the Munchkin.’

She emphasised the words ‘Uncle Ben’ and ‘my’, so he’d know everything remained the same—that she hadn’t changed her mind and was now expecting more from him than he could give. He should have more faith in her. She knew him. Really knew him. But she forgave him his fears. Ben and family? That’d be the day.

He stared at her, frozen. He didn’t say anything. She straightened and folded her arms. ‘What you’re supposed to say, UncleBen, is that you’re very pleased to meet said baby bump. And then you should enquire after my health.’

His head jerked up at her words. ‘How are—?’ He blinked. His brows drew together until he was practically glaring at her. ‘Hell, Meg, you look great! As in really great.’

‘I feel great too.’ Pregnancy agreed with her. Ben wasn’t the only one to notice. She’d received a lot of compliments over the last couple of months. She stuck out a hip. ‘What? Are you saying I was a right hag before?’

‘Of course not, I—’

‘Ha! Got you.’

But he didn’t laugh. She leaned forward to peer into his face, took in the two days’ worth of stubble and the dark circles under his eyes. Where on earth had he flown in from? ‘How long since you had any sleep?’ She shuddered at the thought of him riding on the freeway from Sydney on that bike of his. Ben took risks. He always had. But some of those risks were unnecessary.

His eyes had lowered to her abdomen again.

She tugged on his arm. ‘C’mon, Ben. Shower and then sleep.’

‘No.’

He didn’t move. Beneath his leathers his arm flexed in rock-hardness. She let it go and stepped back. ‘But you look a wreck.’

‘I need to talk to you.’

His eyes hadn’t lifted from her abdomen and she suddenly wanted to cover herself from his gaze. She brushed a hand across her eyes. Get a grip. This is Ben. The pregnancy hormones might have given her skin a lovely glow, but she was discovering they could make her emotionally weird at times too.

‘Then surely talking over a cup of coffee makes more sense than standing out here and giving the neighbours something to talk about.’

Frankly, Meg didn’t care what any of the neighbours thought, and She doubted any of them, except perhaps for Elsie, gave two hoots about her and Ben. She just wanted him off that bike.

‘You look as if you could do with a hot breakfast,’ she added as a tempter. A glance at the sun told her it would be a late breakfast.

Finally Ben lifted one leg over the bike and came to stand beside her. She slipped her arm through his and led him to wards the front door. She quickly assessed her schedule for the following week—there was nothing she couldn’t cancel. ‘How long are you home for this time, Uncle Ben?’ She kept her voice light because she could feel the tension in him.

‘No!’ The word growled out of him as he pulled out of her grasp.

She blinked. What had she said wrong?

‘I can’t do this, Meg.’

Couldn’t do what?

He leaned down until his face was level with hers. The light in his eyes blazed out at her. ‘Not Uncle Ben, Meg, but Dad. I’m that baby’s father.’ He reached out and laid a hand across her stomach. ‘Its father. That’s what I’ve got to talk to you about, because father is the role I want to take in its life.’

The heat from his hand burned like a brand. She shoved it away. Stepped back.

He straightened. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s not what I agreed to. But—’

‘Its father?’ she hissed at him, her back rigid and her heart surging and crashing in her chest. The ground beneath her feet was buckling like dangerous surf. ‘Damn it, Ben, you collected some sperm in a cup. That doesn’t make you a father!’

She reefed open the door and stormed inside. Ben followed hot on her heels. Hot. Heat. His heat beat at her like a living, breathing thing. She pressed a hand to her forehead and kept walking until she reached the kitchen. Sun poured in at all the windows and an ache started up behind her eyes.

She whirled around to him. ‘A father? You?’ She didn’t laugh. She didn’t want to hurt him. But Ben—a father? She’d never heard anything more ridiculous. She pressed one hand to her stomach and the other to her forehead again. ‘Since when have you ever wanted to be a father?’

He stared back at her, his skin pallid and his gaze stony.

Damn it! How long since he’d slept?

She pushed the thought away. ‘Ben, you don’t have a single committed bone in your body.’ What did he mean to do—hang around long enough to make the baby love him before dashing off to some far-flung corner of the globe? He would build her baby’s hopes up just to dash them. He would do that again and again for all of its life—breezing in when it suited him and breezing back out when the idea of family started to suffocate him.

She pressed both hands to her stomach. It was her duty to protect this child. Even against her dearest friend. ‘No.’ Her voice rang clear In the sunny silence.

He shook his head, his mouth a determined line. ‘This is one of the things you can’t boss me about. I’m not giving way. I’m the father of the baby you’re carrying. There’s nothing you can do about that.’

Just for a moment wild hope lifted through her. Maybe they could make this work. In the next moment she shook it off. She’d thought that exact same thing once before—ten years ago, when they’d kissed. Maybe they could make this work. Maybe she’d be the girl who’d make him stay. Maybe she’d be the girl to defeat his restlessness. All silly schoolgirl nonsense, of course.

And so was this.

But the longer she stared at him the less she recognised the man in front of her. Her Ben was gone. Replaced by a lean, dark stranger with a hunger in his eyes. An answering hunger started to build through her. She snapped it away, breathing hard, her chest clenching and unclenching like a fist. A storm raged in her throat, blocking it.

‘I am going to be a part of this baby’s life.’

She whirled back. She would fight him with everything she had.

He leant towards her, his face twisted and dark. ‘Don’t make me fight you on this. Don’t make me fight you for custody, Meg, because I will.’

She froze. For a moment it felt as if even her heart had stopped.

The last of the colour leached from Ben’s face. ‘Hell.’ He backed up a step, and then he turned and bolted.

Meg sprang after him and grabbed his arm just before he reached the back door. She held on for dear life. ‘Ben, don’t.’ She rested her forehead against his shoulder and tried to block a sob. ‘Don’t look like that. You are not your father.’ The father who had—

She couldn’t bear to finish that thought. She might not think Ben decent father material, but he wasn’t his father either.

‘And stop trying to shake me off like that.’ She did her best to make her voice crisp and cross. ‘If I fall I could hurt the baby.’

He glared. ‘That’s emotional blackmail.’

‘Of the worst kind,’ she agreed.

He rolled his eyes, but beneath her hands she felt some of the tension seep out of him. She patted his arm and then backed up a step, uncomfortably aware of his proximity.

‘I panicked. You just landed me with a scenario I wouldn’t have foreseen in a million years. And you…You don’t look like you’ve slept in days. Neither one of us is precisely firing on all cylinders at the moment.’

He hesitated, but then he nodded, his eyes hooded. ‘Okay.’

This wasn’t the first time she and Ben had fought. Not by a long shot. One of their biggest had been seven years ago, when Ben had seduced her friend Suzie. Meg had begged him not to. She’d begged Suzie not to fall for Ben’s charm. They’d both ignored her.

And, predictably, as soon as Ben had slept with Suzie he’d lost all interest and had been off chasing his next adventure. Suzie had been heartbroken. Suzie had blamed Meg. Man, had Meg bawled him out over that one. He’d stayed away from her girlfriends after that.

This fight felt bigger than that one.

Worse still, just like that moment ten years ago—when they’d kissed—it had the potential to destroy their friendship. Instinct told her that. And Ben’s friendship meant the world to her.

‘So?’

She glanced up to find him studying her intently. ‘So…’ She straightened. ‘You go catch up on some Zs and I’ll—’

‘Go for a walk along the spit.’

It was where she always went to clear her head. At low tide it was safe to walk all the way along Fingal Beach and across the sand spit to Fingal Island. It would take about sixty minutes there and back, and she had a feeling she would need every single one of those minutes plus more to get her head around Ben’s bombshell.

Her hands opened and closed. She had to find out what had spooked him, and then she needed to un-spook him as quickly as she could. Then life could get back to normal and she could focus on her impending single motherhood.

Single. Solo. She’d sorted it all straight in her mind. She knew what she was doing and how she was going to do it. She would not let Ben mess with that.

‘Take a water bottle and some fruit. You need to keep hydrated.’

‘And you need to eat something halfway healthy before you hit the sack.’

‘And we’ll meet back here…?’

She glanced at her watch. ‘Three o’clock.’ That was five hours from now. Enough time for Ben to grab something to eat and catch up on some sleep.

He nodded and then shifted his feet. ‘Are you going to make me go to Elsie’s?’

She didn’t have the energy for another fight. Not even a minor one. ‘There are four guest bedrooms upstairs. Help yourself.’

They’d both started for their figurative separate corners when the doorbell rang. Meg could feel her shoulders literally sag.

Ben shot her a glance. ‘I’ll deal with it. I’ll say you’re not available and get rid of whoever it is asap.’

‘Thanks.’

She half considered slipping out through the back door while he was gone and making her way down to the bay, but that seemed rude so she made herself remain in the kitchen, her fingers drumming against their opposite numbers.

Her mind whirled. What on earth was Ben thinking? She closed her eyes and swallowed. How on earth was she going to make him see sense?

‘Uh, Meg?’

Her eyes sprang open as Ben returned, his eyes trying to send her some message.

And then Elsie and her father appeared behind him. It took an effort of will to check her surprise. Her father hadn’t been in this house since he’d handed her the deeds. And Elsie? Had Elsie ever been inside?

Her father thrust out his jaw. ‘We want to talk to you.’

She had to bite her lip to stop herself adding please. Her father would resent being corrected. She thrust her jaw out. Well, bad luck, because she resented being spoken to that way and—

‘We brought morning tea,’ Elsie offered, proffering a bakery bag.

It was so out of character—the whole idea of morning tea, let alone an offering of cake—that all coherent thought momentarily fled.

She hauled her jaw back into place. ‘Thank you. Umm…lovely.’ And she kicked herself forward to take the proffered bag.

She peeked inside to discover the most amazing sponge and cream concoction topped with rich pink icing. Yum! It was the last kind of cake she’d have expected Elsie to choose. It was so frivolous. She’d have pegged Elsie as more of a date roll kind of person, or a plain buttered scone. Not that Meg was complaining. No sirree. This cake was the bee’s knees. Her mouth watered. Double yum.

She shook herself. ‘I’ll…um…go and put the percolator on.’

Ben moved towards the doorway. ‘I’ll make myself scarce.’

‘No, Benjamin, it’s fortunate you’re here,’ her father said. ‘Elsie rang me when she heard you arrive. That’s why we’re here. What we have to say will affect you too.’

Ben glanced at Meg. She shrugged. All four of them in the kitchen made everything suddenly awkward. She thought fast. Her father would expect her to serve coffee in the formal lounge room. It was where he’d feel most comfortable.

It was the one room where Ben would feel least comfortable.

‘Dad, why don’t you and Elsie make yourselves comfortable in the family room? It’s so lovely and sunny in there. I’ll bring coffee and cake through in a moment.’ Before her father could protest she turned to Ben. Getting stuck making small talk with her father and Elsie would be his worst nightmare. ‘I’d appreciate it if you could set a tray for me.’

He immediately leapt into action. She turned away to set the percolator going. When she turned back her father and Elsie had moved into the family room.

‘What’s with them?’ Ben murmured.

‘I don’t know, but I told you last time you were here that something was going down with them.’

They took the coffee and cake into the family room. Meg poured coffee, sliced cake and handed it around.

She took a sip of her decaf and lifted a morsel of cake to her mouth. ‘This is very good.’

Her father and Elsie sat side by side on the sofa, stiff and formal. They didn’t touch their coffee or their cake. They didn’t appear to have a slouchy, comfortable bone between them. With a sigh, Meg set her fork on the side of her plate. If she’d been hoping the family room would loosen them up she was sorely disappointed.

She suddenly wanted to shake them! Neither one of them had asked Ben how he was doing, where he’d been, or how long he’d been back. Her hand clenched around her mug. They gave off nothing but a great big blank.

She glanced at Ben. He lounged in the armchair opposite, staring at his cake and gulping coffee. She wanted to shake him too.

She thumped her mug and cake plate down on the coffee table and pasted her brightest smile to her face. She utterly refused to do blank. ‘While it’s lovely to see you both, I get the impression this isn’t a social visit. You said there’s something you wanted to tell us?’

‘That’s correct, Megan.’

Her father’s name was Lawrence Samuel Parrish. If they didn’t call him Mr Parrish—people, that was, colleagues and acquaintances—they called him Laurie. She stared at him and couldn’t find even a glimpse of the happy-go-lucky ease that ‘Laurie’ suggested. Did he resent the familiarity of that casual moniker?

It wasn’t the kind of question she could ever ask. They didn’t have that kind of a relationship. In fact, when you got right down to brass tacks, she and her father didn’t have any kind of relationship worth speaking of.

Her father didn’t continue. Elsie didn’t take up where he left off. In fact the older woman seemed to be studying the ceiling light fixture. Meg glanced up too, but as far as she could tell there didn’t seem to be anything amiss—no ancient cobwebs or dust, and it didn’t appear to be in imminent danger of dropping on their heads.

‘Well!’ She clapped her hands and then rubbed them together. ‘We’re positively agog with excitement—aren’t we, Ben?’

He started. ‘We are?’

If she’d been closer she’d have kicked him. ‘Yes, of course we are.’

Not.

Hmm…Actually, maybe a bit. This visit really was unprecedented. It was just that this ritual of her doing her best to brisk them up and them steadfastly resisting had become old hat. And suddenly she felt too tired for it.

She stared at Laurie and Elsie. They stared back, but said nothing. With a shrug she picked up her mug again, settled back in her easy chair and took a sip. She turned to Ben to start a conversation. Any conversation.

‘Which part of the world have you been jaunting around this time?’

He turned so his body was angled towards her, effectively excluding the older couple. ‘On safari in Africa.’

‘Lions and elephants?’

‘More than you could count.’

‘Elsie and I are getting married.’

Meg sprayed the space between her and Ben with coffee. Ben returned the favour. Elsie promptly rose and took their mugs from them as they coughed and coughed. Her father handed them paper napkins. It was the most animated she’d ever seen them. But then they sat side-by-side on the sofa again, as stiff and formal as before.

Meg’s coughing eased. She knew she should excuse herself for such disgusting manners, but she didn’t. For once she asked what was uppermost in her mind. ‘Are you serious?’

Her father remained wooden. ‘Yes.’

That was it. A single yes. No explanation. No declaration of love. Nothing.

She glanced at Ben. He was staring at them as if he’d never seen them before. He was staring at them with a kind of fascinated horror, as if they were a car wreck he couldn’t drag his gaze from.

She inched forward on her seat, doing all she could to catch first her father’s and then Elsie’s eyes. ‘I don’t mean to be impertinent, but…why?’

‘That is impertinent.’ Her father’s chin lifted. ‘And none of your business.’

‘If it’s not my business then I don’t know who else’s it is,’ she shot back, surprising herself. Normally she was the keeper of the peace, the smoother-over of awkward moments, doing all she could to make things easy for this pair who, it suddenly occurred to her, had never exactly made things easy for either her or Ben.

‘I told you they wouldn’t approve!’ Elsie said.

‘Oh, it’s not that I don’t approve,’ Meg managed.

‘I don’t,’ Ben growled.

She stared at him. ‘Yeah, but you don’t approve of marriage on principle.’ She rolled her eyes. Did he seriously think he wanted to be a father?

Think about that later.

She turned back to the older couple. ‘The thing is, I didn’t even know you were dating. Why the secrecy? And…and… I mean…’

Her father glanced at Elsie and then at Meg. ‘What?’ he rapped out.

‘Do you love each other?’

Elsie glanced away. Her father’s mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

‘I mean, surely that’s the only good reason to marry, isn’t it?’

Nobody said anything. Her lips twisted. Have a banana, Meg. Was she the only person in this room who believed in love—good, old-fashioned, rumpy-pumpy love?

‘Elsie and I have decided that we’ll rub along quite nicely together.’

She started to roll her eyes at her father’s pomposity, but then he did something extraordinary—he reached out and clasped Elsie’s hand. Elsie held his hand on her lap and it didn’t look odd or alien or wrong.

Meg stared at those linked hands and had to fight down a sudden lump in her throat. ‘In that case, congratulations.’ She rose and kissed them both on the cheek.

Ben didn’t join her.

She took her seat and sent him an uneasy glance. ‘Ben?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s no business of mine.’ He lolled in his chair with almost deliberate insolence. ‘They’re old enough to know what they want.’

‘Precisely,’ her father snapped.

She rubbed her forehead. No amount of smoothing would ease this awkward moment. She decided to move the moment forward instead. ‘So, where will you live?’

‘We’ll live in my apartment at Nelson Bay.’

She turned to Elsie. ‘What will you do with your house?’

Before he’d retired Meg’s father had been a property developer. He still had a lot of contacts in the industry. Maybe they’d sell it. Maybe she’d end up with cheerful neighbours who’d wave whenever they saw her and have young children who’d develop lifelong friendships with her child.

‘I’m going to give it to Ben.’

Ben shot upright to tower over all of them. ‘I don’t want it!’

Her father rose. ‘That’s an ungracious way to respond to such a generous gift.’

Ben glared at his grandmother. ‘Is he railroading you into this?’

‘Most certainly not!’ She stood too. ‘Meg’s right. She’s seen what you haven’t—or what you can’t. Not that I can blame you for that. But…but Laurie and I love each other. I understand how hard you might find that to believe after the way the two of us have been over the years, but I spent a lot of time with him when he was recuperating.’ She shot Meg an almost apologetic glance that made Meg fidget. ‘When you were at work, that is. We talked a lot. And we’re hoping it’s not too late for all of us to become a family,’ she finished falteringly, her cheeks pink with self-consciousness.

It was one of the longest speeches Meg had ever heard her utter, but one glance at Ben and she winced.

‘A family?’ he bellowed.

‘Sit!’ Meg hollered.

Everyone sat, and then stared at her in varying degrees of astonishment. She marvelled at her own daring, and decided to bluff it out. ‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’

Elsie darted a glance at Meg’s father. ‘We thought the thirtieth of next month.’

Next month? The end of March?

That was only six weeks away!

‘We’ll be married by a celebrant at the registry office. We’d like you both to be there.’ Her father didn’t look at her as he spoke.

‘Of course.’ Though heaven only knew how she’d get Ben there. He avoided weddings like the plague—as if he thought they might somehow be catching.

‘And where have you settled on for your honeymoon?’

‘I…’ He frowned. ‘We’re too old for a honeymoon.’

She caught his eye. ‘Dad, do you love Elsie?’

He swallowed and nodded. She’d never seen him look more vulnerable in his life.

She blinked and swallowed. ‘Then you’re not too old for a honeymoon.’ She hauled in a breath. ‘And, like Elsie, are you hoping to rebuild family ties?’

‘I sincerely hope so, Megan. I mean, you have a baby on the way now.’

Correction—she’d never seen him look more vulnerable until now. He was proffering the olive branch she’d been praying for ever since she was eight years old, and she found all she wanted to do was run from the room. A great ball of hardness lodged in her stomach. Her father was willing to change for a grandchild, but not for her.

‘Meg.’

She understood the implicit warning Ben sent her. He didn’t want her hurt or disappointed. Again. She understood then that the chasm between them all might be too wide ever to be breached.

She folded her arms, her brain whirling. Very slowly, out of the mists of confusion and befuddlement—and resentment—a plan started to form. She glanced at the happy couple. A plan perfect in its simplicity. She glanced at Ben. A plan devious in design. A family, huh? They’d see about that. All of them. Laurie and Elsie, and Ben too.

She stood and moved across to Ben’s chair. ‘You must allow Ben and I to throw you a wedding—a proper celebration to honour your public commitment to each other.’

‘What the—?’

Ben broke off with a barely smothered curse when she surreptitiously pulled his hair.

‘Oh, that’s not necessary—’ Elsie started.

‘Of course it is!’ Meg beamed at her. ‘It will be our gift to you.’

Her father lumbered to his feet, panic racing across his face. Meg winked at Elsie before he could speak. ‘Every woman deserves a wedding day, and my father knows the value of accepting generosity in the spirit it’s given. Don’t you, Dad?’ Family, huh? Well, he’d have to prove it.

He stared at her, dumbfounded and just a little…afraid? That was when it hit her that all his pomposity and stiffness stemmed from nervousness. He was afraid that she’d reject him. The thought made her flinch. She pushed it away.

‘We’ll hold the wedding here,’ she told them, lifting her chin. ‘It’ll be a quiet affair, but classy and elegant.’

‘I…’ Her father blinked.

Ben slouched down further in his chair.

Elsie studied the floor at her feet.

Meg met her father’s gaze. ‘I believe thank you is the phrase you’re looking for.’ She sat and lifted the knife. ‘More cake, anyone?’ She cut Ben another generous slice. ‘Eat up, Ben. You’re looking a bit peaky. I need you to keep your strength up.’

He glowered at her. But he demolished the cake. After the smallest hesitation, Elsie forked a sliver of cake into her mouth. Her eyes widened. Her head came up. She ate another tiny morsel. Watching her, Laurie did the same.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Ben rounded on her the instant the older couple left.

She folded her arms and nodded towards the staircase. ‘You want to go take that nap?’

He thrust a finger under her nose. ‘What kind of patsy do you take me for? I am not helping you organise some godforsaken wedding. You got that?’

Loud and clear.

‘The day after tomorrow I’m out of here, and I won’t be back for a good three months.’

Exactly what she’d expected.

‘Do you hear me, Meg? Can I make myself any clearer?’

‘The day after tomorrow, huh?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you won’t be back until around May?’

‘Precisely.’ He set off towards the stairs.

She folded her arms even tighter. She waited until he’d placed his foot on the first riser. ‘So you’ve given up on the idea of fatherhood, then?’

He froze. And then he swung around and let forth with a word so rude she clapped her hands across her stomach in an attempt to block her unborn baby’s ears. ‘Ben!’

‘You…’ The finger he pointed at her shook.

‘I nothing,’ she shot back at him, her anger rising to match his. ‘You can’t just storm in here and demand all the rights and privileges of fatherhood unless you’re prepared to put in the hard yards. Domesticity and commitment includes dealing with my father and your grandmother. It includes helping out at the odd wedding, attending baptisms and neighbourhood pool parties and all those other things you loathe.’

She strode across to stand directly in front of him. ‘Nobody is asking you to put in those hard yards—least of all me.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I know exactly what you’re up to.’

He probably did. That was what happened when someone knew you so well.

‘You think the idea of helping out at this wedding is going to scare me off.’

She raised an eyebrow. Hadn’t it?

‘It won’t work, Meg.’

They’d see about that. ‘Believe me, Ben, a baby is a much scarier proposition than a wedding. Even this wedding.’

‘You don’t think I’ll stick it out?’

Not for a moment. ‘If you can’t stick the wedding out then I can’t see how you’ll stick fatherhood out.’ And she’d do everything she could to protect her child from that particular heartache. ‘End of story.’

The pulse at the base of his jaw thumped and his eyes flashed blue fire. It was sexy as hell.

She blinked and then took a step back. Stupid pregnancy hormones!

He thrust out his hand. ‘You have yourself a deal, Meg, and may the best man win.’

She refused to shake it. Her eyes stung. She swallowed a lump the size of a Victorian sponge. ‘This isn’t some stupid bet, Ben. This is my baby’s life!’

His face softened but the fire in his eyes didn’t dim. ‘Wrong, Meg. Our baby. It’s our baby’s life.’

He reached out and touched the backs of his fingers to her cheek. And then he was gone.

‘Oh, Ben,’ she whispered after him, reaching up to touch the spot on her cheek that burned from his touch. He had no idea what he’d just let himself in for.




CHAPTER FOUR


BEN SLEPT IN one of Meg’s spare bedrooms instead of next door at Elsie’s.

He slept the sleep of the dead.

He slept for twenty straight hours.

When he finally woke and traipsed into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Meg hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table. The sun poured in at the windows, haloing her in gold. She glanced up. She smiled. But it wasn’t her regular wide, unguarded smile.

‘I wondered when you’d surface.’

He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.’ Or that well.

‘Where were you?’

He frowned and pointed. ‘Your back bedroom.’

Her grin lit her entire face. ‘I meant where exactly in Africa were you before you flew home to Australia?’

Oh, right. ‘Zambia, to be exact.’ He was supposed to be leading a safari.

She stared at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He remembered that conversation with Stefan, and the look of fulfilment that had spread across his friend’s face when he’d spoken about his children. It had filled Ben with awe, and the sudden recognition of his responsibilities had changed everything.

He had to be a better father than his own had been. He had to or—

His stomach churned and he cut the thought off. It was too early in the day for such grim thoughts.

‘Exciting,’ she murmured.

He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. ‘Meg, are we okay—you and me?’

‘Of course we are.’ But she’d gone back to her laptop and she didn’t look up as she spoke. When he didn’t move she waved a hand towards the pantry. ‘Look, we need to talk, but have something to eat first while I finish up these accounts. Then we’ll do precisely that.’

He’d stormed in here yesterday and upended all of her plans. Meg liked her ducks in neat straight rows. She liked to know exactly where she was going and what she was working towards. He’d put paid to all of that, and he knew how much it rattled her when her plans went awry.

Awry? His lips twisted. He’d blown them to smithereens. The least he could do was submit to her request with grace, but…

‘You’re working on a Sunday?’

‘I run my own business, Ben. I work when I have to work.’

He shut up after that. It struck him how much Meg stuck to things, and how much he never had. As soon as he grew bored with a job or a place he moved on to the next one, abuzz with the novelty and promise of a new experience. His restlessness had become legendary amongst his friends and colleagues. No wonder she didn’t have any faith in his potential as a father.

All you did was collect sperm in a cup.

He flinched, spilling cereal all over the bench. With a muffled curse he cleaned it up and then stood, staring out of the kitchen window at the garden beyond while he ate.

You never planned to have a child.

He hadn’t. He’d done everything in his power to avoid that kind of commitment. Bile rose in his throat. So what the hell was he doing here?

He stared at the bowl he held and Stefan’s face, words, rose in his mind. A baby deserves both a mother and a father. He pushed his shoulders back and rinsed his bowl. He might not have planned this, but he had no intention of walking away from his child. He couldn’t.

He swung to Meg, but she didn’t look up from her computer. He wasn’t hungry but he made toast. He ate because he wanted his body clock to adjust to the time zone. He ate to stop himself from demanding that Meg stop what she was doing and talk to him right now.

After he’d washed and dried the dishes Meg turned off her computer and pushed it to one side. He poured two glasses of orange juice and sat down. ‘You said we have to talk.’ He pushed one of the glasses towards her.

She blinked. ‘And you don’t think that’s necessary?’

‘I said what I needed to say yesterday.’ He eyed her for a moment. ‘And I don’t want to fight.’

She stared at him, as if waiting for more. When he remained silent she blew out a breath and shook her head.

He rolled his shoulders and fought a scowl. ‘What?’

‘You said yesterday that you want to be acknowledged as the baby’s father.’

‘I do.’

‘And that you want to be a part of its life.’

He thrust out his jaw. ‘That’s right.’

‘Then would you kindly outline the practicalities of that for me, please? What precisely are your intentions?’

He stared at her blankly. What was she talking about?

She shook her head again, her lips twisting. ‘Does that mean you want to drop in and visit the baby once a week? Or does it mean you want the baby to live with you for two nights a week and every second weekend? Or are you after week-about parenting?’ Her eyes suddenly blazed with scorn. ‘Or do you mean to flit in and out of its life as you do now, only instead of calling you Uncle Ben the child gets the privilege of calling you Daddy?’

Her scorn almost burned the skin from his face.

She leaned towards him. ‘Do you actually mean to settle down and help care for this baby?’

Settle down? His mouth went dry. He hadn’t thought…

She drew back and folded her arms. ‘Or do you mean to keep going on as you’ve always done?’

She stared at him, her blazing eyes and the tension in her folded arms demanding an answer. He had to say something. ‘I…I haven’t thought the nuts and bolts of the arrangements through.’ It wasn’t much to give her, but at least it was the truth.

‘You can’t have it both ways, Ben. You’re either globe-trotting Uncle Ben or one hundred per cent involved Daddy. I won’t settle for anything but the best for my child.’

He leapt out of his chair. ‘You can’t demand I change my entire life!’

She stared at him, her eyes shadowed. ‘I’m not. I’ve never had any expectations of you. You’re the one who stormed in here yesterday and said you wanted to be a father. And a true father is—’

‘More than sperm in a cup.’ He fell back into his seat.

She pressed her fingers to her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I put that very crudely yesterday.’

Her guilt raked at him. She hadn’t done anything wrong. He was the one who’d waltzed in and overturned her carefully laid plans.

She lifted her head. ‘A father is so much more than an uncle, Ben. Being a true father demands more commitment than your current lifestyle allows for. A father isn’t just for fun and games. Being a father means staying up all night when your child is sick, running around to soccer and netball games, attending parent and teacher nights.’

His hands clenched. His stomach clenched tighter. He’d stormed in here without really knowing what he was demanding. He still didn’t know what he was demanding. He just knew he couldn’t walk away.

‘Ben, What do you even know about babies?’

Zilch. Other than the fact that they were miracles. And that they deserved all the best life had to give.

‘Have you ever held one?’

Nope. Not even once.

‘Do you even know how to nurture someone?’

He stiffened. What the hell…?

‘I don’t mean do you know how to lead a group safely and successfully down the Amazon, or to base camp at Everest, or make sure someone attaches the safety harness on their climbing equipment correctly. Do you know how to care for someone who is sick or who’s just feeling a bit depressed?’

What kind of selfish sod did she think him?

His mouth dried. What kind of selfish sod was he?

‘I’m not criticising you. Those things have probably never passed across your radar before.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You have this amazing and exciting life. Do you really want to give it up for nappies, teething, car pools and trips to the dentist?’

He couldn’t answer that.

‘Do you really want to be a father, Ben?’

He stared at his hands. He curled his fingers against his palms, forming them into fists. ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He searched Meg’s eyes—eyes that had given him answers in the past. ‘What should I do?’ Did she think he had it in him to become a good father?




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