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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.

CHAPTER FOUR
    B EN SLEPT IN one of Meg’s spare bedrooms instead of next door at Elsie’s.
    He slept the sleep of the dead.
    He slept for twenty straight hours.
    When he finally woke and traipsed into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was Meg hunched over her laptop at the kitchen table. The sun poured in at the windows, haloing her in gold. She glanced up. She smiled. But it wasn’t her regular wide, unguarded smile.
    ‘I wondered when you’d surface.’
    He rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I can’t remember the last time I slept that long.’ Or that well.
    ‘Where were you?’
    He frowned and pointed. ‘Your back bedroom.’
    Her grin lit her entire face. ‘I meant where exactly in Africa were you before you flew home to Australia?’
    Oh, right. ‘Zambia, to be exact.’ He was supposed to be leading a safari.
    She stared at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. He remembered that conversation with Stefan, and the look of fulfilment that had spread across his friend’s face when he’d spoken about his children. It had filled Ben with awe, and the sudden recognition of his responsibilities had changed everything.
    He had to be a better father than his own had been. He had to or—
    His stomach churned and he cut the thought off. It was too early in the day for such grim thoughts.
    ‘Exciting,’ she murmured.
    He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. ‘Meg, are we okay—you and me?’
    ‘Of course we are.’ But she’d gone back to her laptop and she didn’t look up as she spoke. When he didn’t move she waved a hand towards the pantry. ‘Look, we need to talk, but have something to eat first while I finish up these accounts. Then we’ll do precisely that.’
    He’d stormed in here yesterday and upended all of her plans. Meg liked her ducks in neat straight rows. She liked to know exactly where she was going and what she was working towards. He’d put paid to all of that, and he knew how much it rattled her when her plans went awry.
    Awry? His lips twisted. He’d blown them to smithereens. The least he could do was submit to her request with grace, but...
    ‘You’re working on a Sunday?’
    ‘I run my own