His mouth dried as he imagined slipping the buttons free and easing that blouse from her shoulders, gazing at those magnificent breasts in the sun and dipping his head to—
He snapped away.
Oh, hell!
That was
Meg
he was staring at, lusting after.
He raked both hands back through his hair and paced, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the ground in front of him. Jet lag—that had to be it. Plus his brain was addled and emotions were running high after the conversation they’d had.
And she was pregnant with
his
child. Surely it was only natural he’d see her differently? He swallowed and kept pacing. Once he’d sorted it all out in his head, worked out what he was going to do, things would return to normal again. His hands unclenched, his breathing eased. Of course it would.
He came back to himself to find her shaking his arm. ‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you? What’s wrong?’
Her lips looked plump and full and oh-so-kissable. He swallowed. ‘I...uh...’ They were measuring the back yard. That was right. ‘Where are we going to find enough people to fill this tent of yours?’
‘Marquee,’ she corrected. ‘And I’m going to need your help on that one.’
His help.
Focus on that—not on the way her bottom lip curves or the neckline of her shirt or
—
Keep your eyes above her neck
!
‘Help?’ he croaked, suddenly parched.
‘I want you to get the names of ten people Elsie would like to invite to the wedding.’
That snapped him to. ‘Me?’
‘I’ll do the same for my father. I mean to invite some of my friends, along with the entire street. Let me know if there’s anyone you’d like to invite too.’
‘Dave Clements,’ he said automatically. Dave had thrown Ben a lifeline when he’d most needed one. It would be great to catch up with him.
But then he focused on Meg’s order again. Ten names from Elsie? She had to be joking right? ‘Does she even
know
ten people?’
‘She must do. She goes to Housie one afternoon a week.’
She did?
‘Who knows? She might like to invite her chiropodist.’
Elsie had a chiropodist?
‘But how am I going to get her to give me two names let alone ten?’ He and his grandmother could barely manage a conversation about the weather, let alone anything more personal.
‘That’s your problem. You’re supposed to be resourceful, aren’t you? What do you do if wild hyenas invade your camp in Africa? Or if your rope starts to unravel when you’re rock-climbing? Or your canoe overturns when you’re white-water rafting? This should be a piece of cake in comparison.’
Piece of cake, his—
‘Besides, I’m kicking you out of my spare room, so I expect you’ll have plenty of time to work on her.’
He gaped at her. ‘You’re not going to let me stay?’
‘Your place is over there.’ She pointed across the fence. ‘For heaven’s sake, Ben, she’s
giving
that house to you.’
‘I don’t want it.’
‘Then you’d better find a more gracious way of refusing it than that.’
She stood there with hands on hips, eyes flashing, magnificent in the sunlight, and it suddenly occurred to him that moving out of her spare bedroom might be a very good plan. At least until his body clock adjusted.
She must have read the capitulation in his face because her shoulders lost their combativeness. She clasped her hands together and her gaze slid away. He wondered what she was up to now.
‘I...um...’ She glanced up at him again and swallowed. ‘I want to ask you something, but I’m afraid it might offend you—which isn’t my intention at all.’
He shrugged. ‘Ask away, Meg.’
She bent down and pretended to study a nearby rosebush. He knew it was a pretence because he knew Meg. She glanced at him and then back at the rosebush. ‘We’re friends, right? Best friends. So that means it’s okay to ask each other personal questions, don’t you think?’
His curiosity grew. ‘Sure.’ For heaven’s sake, they were having a baby together. How much more personal could it get?
‘You really mean to stay in Fingal Bay for the next six weeks?’
‘Yes.’
She straightened. ‘Then I want to ask if you have enough money to see you through till then. Money isn’t a problem for me, and if you need a loan...’ She trailed off, swallowing. ‘I’ve offended you, haven’t I?’
He had to move away to sit on a nearby bench. Meg thought him some kind of freeloading loser? His stomach churned. He pinched the bridge of his nose. No wonder she questioned his ability to be any kind of decent father to their child.
‘I’m not casting a slur on your life or your masculinity,’ she mumbled, sitting beside him, ‘but you live in the moment and go wherever the wind blows you. Financial security has never been important to you. Owning things has never been important to you.’
He lifted his head to survey the house behind her. ‘And they are to you?’ It wasn’t the image he had of her in his mind. But her image of
him
was skewed. It was just possible they had each other completely wrong.
After all, how much time had they really spent in each other’s company these last five to seven years?
She gave a tiny smile and an equally tiny shrug. ‘With a baby on the way, financial security has become very important to me.’
‘Is that why you let your father gift you this house?’
‘No.’
‘Then why?’ He turned to face her more fully. ‘I’d have thought you’d hate this place.’ The same way he hated it.
She studied him for a long moment. ‘Not all the associations are bad. This is where my mother came as a new bride. This is where I met my best friend.’
Him.
‘Those memories are good. And look.’ She grabbed his hand and tugged him around the side of the house to the front patio. ‘Look at that view.’
She dropped his hand and a part of him wished she hadn’t. The crazy mixed-up, jet lagged part.
‘This has to be one of the most beautiful places in the world. Why wouldn’t I want to wake up to that every day?’
He stared at the view.
‘Besides, Fingal Bay is a nice little community. I think it’s a great place to raise a child.’
He stared out at the view—at the roofs of the houses on the street below and the curving bay just beyond. The stretch of sand bordering the bay and leading out to the island gleamed gold in the sun. The water sparkled a magical green-blue. He stared at the boats on the water, listened to the cries of the seagulls, the laughter of children, and tried to see it all objectively.
He couldn’t. Every rock and curve and bend was imbued with his childhood.
But...
He’d travelled all around the world and Meg was right. The picturesque bay in front of him rivalled any other sight he’d seen.
He turned to her. ‘It’s as simple as that? This is where you want to live so you accepted this house as a gift?’
A sigh whispered out of her, mingling with the sounds of the waves whooshing up onto the sand. ‘It’s a whole lot more complicated than that. It was as if...as if my father
needed
to give me this house.’
He leant towards her. ‘Needed to?’
She shrugged, her teeth gnawing on her bottom teeth. ‘I haven’t got to the bottom of that yet, but...’
She gazed up at him, her hazel eyes steady and resolute, her chin at an angle, as if daring him to challenge her.
‘I didn’t have the heart to refuse him.’
‘The same way you’re hoping I won’t refuse Elsie.’
‘That’s between you and her.’
‘Don’t you hold even the slightest grudge, Meg?’
‘Don’t you think it’s time you let yours go?’
He swung away. Brilliant. Not only did she think him financially unsound, but she thought him irresponsible and immature on top of it.
At least he could answer one of those charges. ‘Early in my working life I set up a financial security blanket, so to speak.’ He’d invested in real estate. Quite a bit of it, actually.
Her eyes widened. ‘You did?’
He had to grit his teeth at her incredulity. ‘Yes.’
She pursed her lips and stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. ‘That was very sensible of you.’
He ground his teeth harder. He’d watched Laurie Parrish for many years and, while he might not like the man, had learned a thing or two that he’d put into practice. Those wise investments had paid off.
‘I have enough money to tide me over for the next six weeks.’ And beyond. But he resisted the impulse to brag and tell her exactly how much money that financial security blanket of his held—that really would be immature.
‘Okay.’ She eyed him uncertainly. ‘Good. I’m glad that’s settled.’
‘While we’re on the subject of personal questions—’ he rounded on her ‘—you want to tell me what you’re trying to achieve with this godforsaken wedding?’
She hitched up her chin and stuck out a hip. ‘I’m joying this “godforsaken wedding” up,’ she told him. ‘I’m going to
force
them to celebrate.’
He gaped at her. ‘Why?’
‘Because there was no joy when we were growing up.’
‘They were never there for us, Meg. They don’t deserve this—the effort you put in, the—’
‘Everyone deserves the right to a little happiness. And if they truly want to mend bridges, then...’
‘Then?’
‘Then I only think it fair and right that we give them that opportunity.’
* * *
Ben’s face closed up. Every single time he came home Meg cursed what his mother had done to him—abandoning him like she had with a woman who’d grown old before her time. Usually she would let a topic like this drop. Today she didn’t. If Ben truly wanted to be a father, he needed to deal with his past.
She folded her arms, her heart pounding against the walls of her chest. ‘When my mother died, my father just shut down, became a shell. Her death—it broke him. There was no room in his life for joy or celebration.’
Ben pushed his face in close to hers, his eyes flashing. ‘He should’ve made an effort for you.’
Meg’s hand slid across her stomach. She’d make every effort for
her
child, she couldn’t imagine ever emotionally abandoning it, but maybe men were different—especially men of her father’s generation.
She glanced at Ben. If a woman ever broke his heart, how would he react? She bit back a snigger. To break his heart a woman would have to get close to Ben, and he was never going to let that happen.
Ben’s gaze lowered to where her hand rested against her stomach. His gaze had kept returning to her baby bump all morning. As if he couldn’t get his fill. She swallowed. It was disconcerting, being the subject of his focus.
Not her, she corrected, the baby.
That didn’t prevent the heat from rising in her cheeks or her breathing from becoming shallow and strained.
She tried to shake herself free from whatever weird and wacky pregnancy hormone currently gripped her.
Concentrate
.
‘So,’ she started, ‘while my father went missing in action, your mother left you with Elsie and disappeared. She never rang or sent a letter or anything. Elsie must’ve been worried sick. She must’ve been afraid to love you.’
He snapped back. ‘Afraid to—?’
‘I mean, what if your mother came back and took you away and she never heard from either of you again? What if, when you grew up, you did exactly what your mother did and abandoned
her
?’
‘My mother abandoned me, not Elsie.’
‘She abandoned the both of you, Ben.’
His jaw dropped open.
Meg nodded. ‘Yes, you’re right. They both should’ve made a bigger effort for us. But at least we found each other. At least we both had one friend in the world we could totally depend upon. And whatever else you want to dispute, you can’t deny that we didn’t have fun together.’
He rolled his shoulders. ‘I don’t want to deny that.’
‘Well, can’t you see that my father and Elsie didn’t even have that much? Life has left them crippled. But...’ She swallowed. ‘I demand joy in my life now, and I won’t compromise on that. If they refuse to get into the swing of this wedding then I’ll know those bridges—the distance between us—can never be mended. And I’ll have my answer.’
She hauled in a breath. ‘One last chance, Ben, that was what I’m giving them.’ And that’s what she wanted him to give them too.
Ben didn’t say anything. She cast a sidelong glance at him and bit back a sigh. She wondered when Ben—
her
Ben, the Ben she knew, the Ben with an easy smile and a careless saunter, without a care in the world—would return. Ever since he’d pulled his bike to a halt out at the front of her house yesterday there’d been trouble in his eyes.
He turned to her, hands on hips. He had lean hips and a tall, rangy frame. With his blond-tipped hair he looked like a god. No wonder women fell for him left, right and centre.
Though if he’d had a little less in the charm and looks department maybe he’d have learned to treat those women with more sensitivity.
Then she considered his mother and thought maybe not.
‘When was the last time
you
felt joyful?’ she asked on impulse.
He scratched his chin. He still hadn’t shaved. He should look scruffy, but the texture of his shadowed jaw spoke to some yearning deep inside her. The tips of her fingers tingled. She opened and closed her hands. If she reached out and—
She shook herself. Ben
did
look scruffy. Completely and utterly. He most certainly didn’t look temptingly disreputable with all that bad-boy promise of his.
Her hands continued to open and close. She heaved back a sigh. Okay, we’ll maybe he did. But that certainly wasn’t the look she was into.
Normally.
She scowled. Darn pregnancy hormones. And then the memory of that long ago kiss hit her and all the hairs on her arms stood to attention.
Stop it!
She and Ben would never travel down that road again. There was simply too much at stake to risk it.
Ever
.
She folded her arms and swallowed. ‘It can’t be that hard, can it?’ she demanded when he remained silent. Ben was the last person who’d need lessons in joy, surely?