Читать книгу First Comes Baby... - Michelle Douglas - Страница 10

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.

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.