He glanced at the older woman. When had she got into the habit? Maybe nobody had ever challenged her, and—
Holy crap!
Ben’s jaw dropped and his skin tightened when Meg rounded the car to join them. His chest expanded. It was as if he didn’t fit his body properly any more.
Holy mackerel!
She wore a short blue skirt that stopped a good three inches above her knees and swished and danced about flirty thighs.
Man, Meg had great legs!
He managed to lift a hand to swipe it across his chin. No drool. He didn’t do drool. Though, that said, until this week he’d have said he didn’t do ogling Meg either.
Now it seemed he couldn’t do anything else.
She had legs that went on for ever. The illusion was aided and abetted by the four-inch wedge heels she wore, the same caramel colour as her blouse. He toenails were painted a sparkly dark brown.
She nudged him in the ribs. ‘What’s with you?’
‘I...um...’ He coughed. Elsie raised an eyebrow and for the first time in his life he saw her actually smile. Oh, brilliant! She’d seen the lot and knew the effect Meg was having on him.
‘I...um...’ He cleared his throat and pointed to Meg’s feet. ‘Those shoes should come with a warning sign. Are you sure pregnant women are allowed to wear those things?’
She snorted. ‘Just watch me, buster.’
He didn’t have any other choice.
‘I’ve given up caffeine, alcohol, salami and Camembert, but I’m not giving up my sexy sandals.’
She and Elsie set off for the club’s entrance. He trailed after, mesmerised by the way Meg’s hips swayed with hypnotic temptation.
How had he never noticed
that
before?
He swallowed. He had a feeling he was in for a long night.
CHAPTER SEVEN
M
EG
GLANCED
AT
Ben sitting at the table next to her in the club, and then away again before anyone could accuse her of having an unhealthy fixation with her best friend.
But tonight he’d amazed her. He not only made an effort to take part in the conversation, he actively promoted it. He quizzed her father on the key differences between five-card draw poker, stud poker and Texas hold ’em. She hadn’t seen her father so animated in a long time. And Elsie listened in with a greedy avidity that made Meg blink.
The more she watched, the more she realised how good the older couple were for each other.
She bit her lip and glanced around the crowded dining room. She wanted to be happy for her father and Elsie. She gritted her teeth. She
was
happy for them. But their newfound vim made her chafe and burn. It made her hands clench.
Ben trailed a finger across one of her fists, leaving a burning path of awareness in his wake. She promptly unclenched it. He sent her a smile filled with so much understanding she wanted to lay her head on his shoulder and bawl her eyes out.
Pregnancy hormones.
Do you mean to use that as an excuse for every uncomfortable emotion that pummels you at the moment?
It might not explain her unexpected resentment towards the older couple, but it was absolutely positively the reason her pulse quickened and her skin prickled at the mere sight of Ben. It had to be. And it was absolutely positively the reason her stomach clenched when his scent slugged into her—that peculiar but evocative mixture of leather and Scotch whisky.
For pity’s sake, he wasn’t even wearing leather or drinking whisky.
Her lips twisted. He couldn’t help it. He smelled like a bad boy—all illicit temptation and promises he wouldn’t keep. That grin and his free and easy swagger promised heaven. For one night. She didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d deliver on
that
particular promise either.
And darn it all if she didn’t want a piece of that!
She swallowed. She didn’t just want it. She craved it. Her skin, her lungs, even her fingers ached with it.
Pregnancy hormones.
It had to be.
Just her luck. Why couldn’t she be like other women who became nauseous at the smell of frying bacon? That would be far preferable to feeling like
this
when Ben’s scent hit her.
Her fingers curled into her palms. She had to find a way to resist all that seductive bad-boyness. For the sake of their friendship. And for the sake of her baby.
She dragged in a breath. She’d seen smart, sensible women make absolute fools of themselves over Ben and she had no intention of joining their ranks. She could
not
let lust deflect her from the important issue—ensuring her baby had the best possible life that she could give it. She could do that and save her friendship with Ben.
But not if she slept with him.
She ground her teeth together. Why had nobody warned her that being pregnant would make her...horny?
She shifted on her chair. Horny was the perfect description. There was nothing dignified and elegant or slow and easy in what she felt for Ben.
She risked a glance at him. Her blood Mexican-waved in her veins. Heat pounded through her and she squeezed her thighs tightly together. What she felt for Ben—
her best friend
—was hot and carnal, primal and urgent.
And it had to be denied.
She dragged her gaze away and fiddled with her cutlery.
Ben nudged her and she could have groaned out loud as a fresh wave of leather and whisky slammed into her. But it occurred to her then that she’d left the entire running of the conversation up to him so far. He probably thought she was doing it to punish him, or to prove some stupid point, when the real reason was she simply couldn’t string two thoughts let alone two sentences together in a coherent fashion.
‘Sorry, I was a million miles away.’ She made herself smile around the table. ‘My girlfriends have warned me about baby brain.’
Ben cocked an eyebrow. He grinned that slow and easy grin that could reduce a woman to the consistency of warm honey, inch by delicious inch.
She swallowed and forced her spine to straighten. ‘Basically it means my brain will turn to mush and I won’t be able to verbalise anything but nonsense for days at a time.’
She glanced at Elsie. ‘Do you remember that when you were pregnant?’
Elsie drew back, paled, and Meg tried not to wince. She’d never asked Elsie about pregnancy or motherhood before and it was obviously a touchy subject. She hadn’t meant to be insensitive.
In an effort to remove attention from Elsie, she swung to her father. ‘Or can
you
remember Mum having baby brain when she was pregnant with me?’
An ugly red flushed his cheeks. As if she’d reached across and slapped him across the face. Twice.
Oh, great. Another no-go zone, huh?
She wanted nothing more than to lay her head on the table, close her eyes and rest for a while.
‘And what a sterling example of baby brain in action,’ Ben murmured in her ear, and she found herself coughing back a laugh instead.
‘I guess that’s a no on both counts,’ she managed, deciding to brazen it out, hoping it would make it less awkward all round. She glanced around the crowded dining room. ‘There’s a good crowd in but, man, I’m hungry. I wonder when our food will be ready?’
On cue, their table buzzer rang. Ben and her father shot to their feet. ‘I’ll get yours,’ Ben told her, placing a hand on her shoulder to keep her in her seat.
Elsie watched as the two men walked towards the bistro counter where their plates waited. Meg made herself smile. ‘Well, this is nice, isn’t it?’
‘You shouldn’t have mentioned your mother.’
Meg blinked. ‘Why ever not?’
Elsie pressed her lips primly together. ‘He doesn’t like to talk about her.’
Wasn’t that the truth? ‘And yet she was
my
mother and I do. Why should my needs be subordinate to his?’
‘That’s a selfish way to look at it.’
Interesting...Elsie was prepared to go into battle for her father. Something in Meg’s heart lifted.
But something else didn’t. ‘Maybe I’m tired of stepping on eggshells and being self-sacrificing.’
Elsie paled. ‘Meg, I—’
The men chose that moment to return with the food and Elsie broke off. Meg couldn’t help but be relieved.
Ben glanced at Elsie and then whispered to Meg, ‘More baby brain?’
‘“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Alice,’ she returned.
He grinned. She grinned back. And for a moment everything was right again—she and Ben against the world...or at least against Elsie and Laurie, who’d been the world when she and Ben had been ten-year-olds.
They ate, and her father and Elsie reverted to their customary silence. Between them Meg and Ben managed to keep up a steady flow of chatter, but Meg couldn’t help wondering if the older couple heard a word they said.
When they were finished, their plates removed and drinks replenished, Meg clapped her hands. ‘Okay, I want to talk about the wedding for a moment.’
Her father scowled. ‘I don’t want a damn circus, Megan.’
‘It’s not going to be a circus. It’s going to be a simple celebration. A celebration of the love you and Elsie share.’ She folded her arms. ‘And if you can’t muster the courtesy to give each other that much respect then you shouldn’t be getting married in the first place.’
Elsie and Laurie stared at her in shock. Ben let forth with a low whistle.
‘Elsie—not this Saturday but the one after you and I are going shopping for your outfit.’
‘Oh, but I don’t need anything new.’
‘Yes, you do. And so do I.’ Her father had multiple suits, but... She turned to Ben. ‘You’ll need a suit.’
He saluted. ‘I’m onto it.’
She turned back to the older couple. ‘And you will both need an attendant. Who would you like as your bridesmaid and best man?’
Nobody said anything for a moment. She heaved back a sigh. ‘Who were you going to have as your witnesses?’
‘You and Ben,’ her father muttered.
‘Fine. I’ll be your best man, but I’ll be wearing a dress.’
‘And I’ll be bridesmaid in a suit,’ Ben said to Elsie.
He said it without rancour and without wincing. He even said it with a grin on his face. Meg could have hugged him.
‘Now, Elsie, do you want someone to give you away?’
‘Of course not! Who on earth would I ask to do that?’
Meg leant back. She stared at the ceiling and counted to three. ‘I’d have thought Ben would be the logical choice.’
The other woman’s chin shot up. ‘Ben? Do you really expect him to still be here in six weeks’ time?’
‘If he says he will, then, yes.’
‘Give me away?’ Her face darkened as she glared at Ben. ‘Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d love to give me away and be done with me for ever.’
Meg took one look at her best friend’s ashen face and a scorching red-hot savagery shook through her. She leant forward, acid burning her throat and a rank taste filling her mouth. ‘And who could blame him? I don’t know why he even bothers with you at all. What the hell have you ever given him that he couldn’t have got from strangers? You never show the slightest interest in his life, never show him the slightest affection—not even a tiny bit of warmth. You have no right to criticise him.
None!
’
‘Meg.’
Ben’s voice burned low but she couldn’t stop. Even if she’d wanted to, she couldn’t have. And she didn’t want to. ‘It was your job to show him love and security when he was just a little boy, but did you ever once hug him or tell him you were glad he’d come to stay with you? No, not once. Why not? He was a great kid and you...you’re nothing but a—’
‘Megan, that’s enough! You will
not
speak to my intended like that.’
‘Or what?’ she shot straight back at her father. ‘You’ll never speak to me again? Well, seeing as you barely speak to me now, I can hardly see that’d be any great loss.’
Even as the words ripped out of her she couldn’t believe she was uttering them. But she meant them. Every single one of them. And the red mist held her too much in its sway for her to regret them.
She might never regret them, but if she remained here she would say things she
would
regret—mean, bitter things just for the sake of it. She pushed out of her seat and walked away, walked right out of the club. She tramped the two blocks down to the water’s edge to sit on a bench overlooking the bay as the sun sank in the west.
The walking had helped work off some of her anger. The warm air caressed the bare skin of her neck and legs, and the late evening light was as soothing as the ebb and flow of the water.
‘Are you okay?’
Ben. And his voice was as soothing as the water too. But it made her eyes prickle and sting. She nodded.
‘Do you mind if I join you?’
She shook her head and gestured for him to take the seat beside her.
‘What happened back there?’ he finally asked. ‘Baby brain?’
She didn’t know if he was trying to make her laugh or if he was as honest-to-God puzzled as he sounded. She dragged in a breath that made her whole body shudder. ‘That was honest, true-blue emotion, not baby brain. I’ve never told either one of them how I feel about our childhoods.’
‘Well, you left them in no doubt about your feelings on the subject tonight.’
She glanced at him. ‘I don’t particularly feel bad about it.’ Did that make her an awful person? ‘I don’t want revenge, and I don’t want to ruin their happiness, but neither one of them has the right to criticise you or me for being unsupportive. Especially when we’re bending over backwards for them.’
He rested his elbows on his knees and then glanced up at her. ‘You’ve bottled that up for a long time. Why spill it now?’
She stared out at the water. The sky was quickly darkening now that the sun had gone down. The burning started behind her eyes again. ‘Now that I’m pregnant and expecting a child of my own, their emotional abandonment of us seems so much more unforgivable to me.’
He straightened and she turned to him.
‘Ben, I can’t imagine not making every effort for my child, regardless of what else is happening in my life. I love it so much already and it makes me see...’
‘What?’
She had to swallow. ‘It makes me see that neither one of them loved us enough.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’ He slipped an arm about her shoulders and she leant against him, soaking up his strength and his familiarity, his
Ben
-ness.
‘You’ve never blown your top like that,’ she murmured into his chest. And he had so much more to breathe fire about than her—not just Elsie, but his mother and father too. ‘Why not?’ It obviously hadn’t been healthy for
her
to bottle her anger and hurt up for so long. If he was bottling it up—
‘Meg, honey.’ He gave a low laugh. ‘I did it with actions rather than words. Don’t you remember?’
She thought about it for a while and then nodded. ‘You rebelled big-time.’ He’d started teenage binge-drinking at sixteen, and staying out until the wee small hours, getting into the occasional fight—and, she suspected, making himself at home in older women’s beds.
The police had brought him home on more than one occasion. He’d had a couple of fathers and one husband warn him off—violently. Yes. She nodded again. Ben had gone off the rails in a big way, and she could see it now for the thumbing of his nose at his family that it had been.
Still, he’d had the strength and the sense to pull out of that downward spiral. Dave Clements—a local tour operator—had offered him a part-time job and had taken him under his wing, had encouraged Ben to finish school. And Ben had, and now he led the kind of life most people could only dream of.
But was he happy?
She’d thought so, but... She glanced up into his face and recognised the shadows there. She straightened and slipped her hand into his, held it tight. ‘I’m sorry if my outburst brought up bad stuff for you. I didn’t mean—’