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.
CHAPTER NINE
B
EN
CRUISED
THE
road between Nelson Bay and Fingal Bay with the driver’s window down, letting the breeze dance through the car and ruffle his hair. He put his foot down a centimetre and then grinned in satisfaction. This baby, unlike his motorbike, barely responded.
Perfect.
The coastal forest and salt-hardy scrubland retreated as the road curved into the small township. On impulse he parked the car and considered the view.
As a kid, he’d loved the beach. He and Meg had spent more time down there than they had in their own homes. Maybe he’d taken it for granted. Or maybe he’d needed to leave it for a time to see some of the world’s other beautiful places before he could come back and truly appreciate it.
Because Meg was right—for sheer beauty, Fingal Bay was hard to beat. The line of the beach, the rocky outcrop of Fingal Island directly opposite and the sand spit leading out to it formed a cradle that enclosed the bay on three of its sides. The unbelievably clear water revealed the sandy bottom of the bay, and the bottle-nosed dolphins that were almost daily visitors.
He’d fled this place as soon as he was of a legal age. Staring at it now, he felt as if it welcomed him back. He dragged in a breath of late-afternoon air—salt-scented and warm—then glanced at his watch and grinned. Meg should be home by now.
He drove to her house, pulled the car into her driveway and blared the horn. He counted to five before her front door swung open.
Meg stood silhouetted in the light with the darkness of the house behind her and every skin cell he possessed tightened. Her baby bump had grown in the month he’d been home. He gazed at it hungrily. He gazed at
her
hungrily.
He gave himself a mental slap upside the head. He’d promised to stop thinking about Meg that way. He’d promised not to send her any more mixed messages. He would never be able to give her all the things a woman like her wanted and needed, and he valued their friendship too much to pretend otherwise.
If only it were as easy as it sounded.
With a twist of his lips, he vaulted out of the car.
When she saw him, her jaw dropped. She stumbled down the driveway to where he stood, her mouth opening and closing, her eyes widening. ‘What on earth is that?’
He grinned and puffed out his chest. ‘This—’ he slapped the bonnet ‘—is my new car.’ This would prove to her that he was a changed man, that he was capable of responsibility and stability. That he was capable of fatherhood.
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders free and easy, while he waited for her to finish her survey of the car and then pat him on the back and meet his gaze with new respect in her eyes.
‘You...’ She swallowed. ‘You’ve bought a station wagon?’
‘I have.’ His grin widened. He’d need room for kid stuff now. And this baby had plenty of room.
‘You’ve gone and bought an ugly, boxy
white
station wagon?’
She stared at him as if he’d just broken out in green and purple spots. His shoulders froze in place. So did his grin. She planted her hands on her hips and glared. The sun picked out the golden highlights in her hair. Her eyes blazed, but her lips were the sweetest pink he’d ever seen.
Meg was hot. He shifted, adjusting his jeans. Not just pretty, but smokin’ hot. Knock-a-man-off-his-feet hot. He needed something ice-cold to slake the heat rising through him or he’d—
‘Where’s your bike?’ she demanded.
He moistened his lips. ‘I traded it.’ The icy sting of the cold current that visited the bay at this time of year might do the trick.
‘You. Did.
What?
’ Her voice rose on the last word. Her nostrils flared. She poked him in the shoulder. ‘Have you gone mad? What on earth were you thinking?’
He leant towards her, all his easy self-satisfaction slaughtered. ‘I was trying to prove to you that I’ve changed,’ he ground out. ‘This car is a symbol that I can be a good father.’
‘It shows you’ve lost your mind!’
She dragged both hands back through her hair. She stared at him for a moment, before transferring her gaze back to the station wagon.
‘Inside—now,’ she ordered. ‘I don’t want to have this conversation on the street.’
He planted his feet. ‘I’m not some child you can order about. If you want to talk to me, then you can ask me like a civilised person. I’m tired of you treating me like a second-class citizen.’ Like someone who couldn’t get one damn thing right.
He knew she was stressed about the wedding, about the baby, about him—about that damn kiss!—but he was through with taking this kind of abuse from her. Meg had always been a control freak, but she was getting worse and it was time she eased up.
He welcomed the shock in her eyes, but not the pain that followed swiftly on its heels. Meg was a part of him. Hurting her was like hurting himself.
She swallowed and nodded. ‘Sorry, that really was very rude of me. It’s just...I think we need to talk about that.’ She gestured to his car. ‘Would you come inside for coffee so we can discuss it?’ When he didn’t say anything she added, ‘Please?’
He nodded and followed her into the house.
She glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘Coffee or a beer?’
‘Coffee, thanks.’ Meg had been right about the drinking. Somewhere along the line, when he hadn’t been paying attention, it had become a habit. He’d made an effort to cut back.
She made coffee for him and decaf for herself. He took in the tired lines around her eyes and mouth and the pallor of her skin where previously there’d been a golden glow and something snagged in his chest. ‘What’s wrong with the car?’ he said, accepting the mug she handed him. ‘I thought it would show you I’m serious about sticking around and being involved with the baby.’
‘I think I’ve been unfair to you on that, Ben.’
She gestured to the family room sofas and he followed her in a daze.
She sat. She didn’t tuck her legs beneath her like she normally did. She didn’t lean back against the sofa’s cushioned softness. She perched on the edge of the seat, looking weary and pale. Her mug sat on the coffee table, untouched. He wanted to ease her back into that seat and massage her shoulders...or her feet. Whichever would most help her to relax.
Except he had a no-touching-Meg rule. And he wasn’t confident enough in his own strength to break it.
She glanced up, the green in her eyes subdued. ‘You said you wanted to be an involved father and I automatically assumed...’
‘That I was lying.’
‘Not on purpose, no.’ She frowned. ‘But I didn’t think you really knew what you were talking about. I didn’t think you understood the reality of what you were planning to do.’
And why should she? The truth was he hadn’t understood the reality at all. Not at first.
She glanced back at him and her gaze settled on his mouth for a beat too long. Blood rushed in his ears. When she realised her preoccupation she jerked away.
‘I didn’t think you knew your own mind.’ She swallowed. ‘That wasn’t fair of me. I’m sorry for doubting you. And I’m sorry I haven’t been more supportive of your decision.’
‘Hell, don’t apologise.’ Coffee sloshed over the side of his mug and he mopped it up with the sleeve of his shirt. ‘I needed your challenges to make me analyse what I was doing and what it is I want. I should be thanking you for forcing me to face facts.’ For forcing him to grow up.
When he glanced back up he found her making a detailed inventory of his chest and shoulders. Her lips parted and fire licked along his veins.
Don’t betray yourself
, he tutored himself.
Don’t!
Her eyes searched his, and then the light in them dulled and she glanced away, biting her lip.
He had to close his eyes. ‘You don’t need to apologise about anything.’
He opened his eyes and almost groaned at the strain in her face. He made himself grin, wanting to wipe the tension away, wanting desperately for things to return to normal between them again.
‘Though I have to say if I’d known that calling you on the way you’ve been treating me would change your thinking I’d have done it days ago.’
‘Oh, it wasn’t that.’ She offered him a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes. ‘It was watching you with Laura and Lochie last Saturday.’
He’d sensed that had been a test. He just hadn’t known if he’d passed it or not.
‘I had a ball.’
‘I know. And so did they.’
‘They’re great kids.’
Just for a moment her eyes danced. ‘Laura can be a challenge at times.’
‘She just needs to loosen up a bit, that’s all.’ In the same way Meg needed to loosen up.
Who made sure Meg had fun these days? Who made sure she didn’t take herself too seriously? She’d said that the baby gave her joy, but it wasn’t here yet. What else gave her joy? It seemed to him that at the moment Meg was too busy for joy, and that was no way to live a life.
He’d need to ponder that a bit more, but in the meantime...
‘What’s your beef with the car?’
That brought the life back to her cheeks. He sat back, intrigued.
‘Could you have picked a more boring car if you’d tried?’
‘
You
have a station wagon,’ he pointed out.
‘But at least mine is a sporty version and it’s useful for work. And it’s blue!’
‘The colour doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it does.’ She leant to towards him. ‘I understand you want to prove you’re good father material, but that doesn’t mean you have to become
beige
!’
‘Beige’ had been their teenage term for all things boring.
‘I agree that with a baby you’ll need a car. But you’re allowed to buy a car you’ll enjoy. A two-seat convertible may not be practical, but you’re an action man, Ben, and you like speed. You could’ve bought some powerful V6 thing that you could open up on the freeway, or a four-wheel drive you could take off-road and drive on the beach—or anything other than that boring beige box sitting in my driveway.’
He considered her words.
‘Do you think fatherhood is going to be beige?’ she demanded.
‘No!’
She closed her eyes and let out a breath. ‘That’s something, at least.’
He saw it then—the reason for her outburst. She’d started to believe in him, in his sense of purpose and determination, and then he’d turned up in that most conservative of conservative cars and he’d freaked her out.
Again.
He was determined to get things back on an even footing between them again. And he’d succeed. As long as he ignored the sweet temptation of her lips and the long clean line of her limbs. And the desire that flared in her green-flecked eyes.
‘You don’t have to change who you are, Ben. You might not be travelling around the globe any more, throwing yourself off mountains, negotiating the rapids of some huge river or trekking to base camp at Everest—but, for heaven’s sake, it doesn’t mean you have to give up your motorbike, does it?’
That—trading in his bike—had been darn hard. It was why it had taken him a full month of being back in Fingal Bay before he’d found the courage to do it. But he’d figured it was a symbol of his old life and therefore had to go. But if Meg was right...
‘I want you to go back to that stupid car yard and buy it back.’
A weight lifted from his shoulders. He opened and closed his hands. ‘You think I should?’
‘Yes! Where else am I going to get my occasional pillion-passenger thrill? All that speed and power? And, while I know you can’t literally feel the wind in your hair because of the helmet, that’s exactly what it feels like. It’s like flying.’
He had a vision of Meg on the back of his bike, her front pressed against his back and her arms wrapped around his waist. He shot to his feet. ‘If I race back now I might catch the manager before he leaves for the day.’ He had to get his bike back. ‘He had a nice-looking four wheel drive in stock. That could be a bit of fun.’ He rubbed at his jaw. ‘I could take it for a test drive.’
Meg trailed after him to the front door. ‘Good luck.’
Halfway down the path, he swung back. ‘What are you doing Saturday?’
‘Elsie and I are shopping for wedding outfits in the morning.’ She grimaced. ‘It’s not like we’ve left it to the last minute or anything, but that grandmother of yours can be darn slippery when she wants to be.’
The wedding was a fortnight this Saturday. ‘And in the afternoon?’
She shook her head and shrugged.
‘Keep it free,’ he ordered. Then he strode back, slipped a hand around the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her brow. ‘Thanks, Meg.’
And then he left before he did something stupid, like kiss her for real. That wouldn’t be getting their friendship back on track.
* * *
Meg glanced up at the tap on the back door. ‘How did the shopping go?’ Ben asked, stepping into the family room with the kind of grin designed to bring a grown woman to her knees.
Her heart swelled at the sight of him.
Don’t drool. Smile. Don’t forget to smile
.
The smiling was easy. Holding back a groan of pure need wasn’t. ‘The shopping? Oh, it went surprisingly well,’ she managed. Elsie had been remarkably amiable and co-operative. ‘We both now have outfits.’
They’d found a lovely lavender suit in shot silk for Elsie. Though she’d protested that it was too young for her, her protests had subsided once Meg had pronounced it perfect. Meg had settled on a deep purple satin halter dress with a chiffon overlay that hid her growing baby bulge. It made her feel like a princess.
‘How are the wedding preparation coming along? What do you need me to do this week?’
Ben had, without murmur, executed to perfection whatever job she’d assigned to him. He’d been amazing.
She thought of the request she’d made of Dave and bit her lip. Perhaps she should call that off. Ben had settled into a routine here as if...almost as if he’d never been away. The thought of him leaving...
She shook herself. The wedding. They were talking about the wedding. ‘You have a suit?’
‘Yep.’
‘Then there’s not much else to be done. The marquee is being erected on the Friday afternoon prior, and the tables and chairs will all be set up then too.’