First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart (3 page)

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 towards 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
.