First Comes Baby...

‘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, Uncle Ben, 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.