First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart by Michelle Douglas Page A

glanced back. Swallowed. It could be sunburn. They’d been out in the sun for a while now.
    He closed his eyes. He ached to wrap her in his arms and tell her he would not let either her or the baby down. Words, though, were cheap. Meg would need more than verbal assurances. She’d need action.
    ‘We should make tracks.’ She shaded her eyes against the sun. ‘You said you needed to do some shopping?’
    He did. But he needed a timeout from Meg more. He needed to get his head around the realisation that he was back in Port Stephens for good.
    He feigned interest in a sultry brunette, wearing nothing but a bikini, who was ambling along the beach towards them.
    ‘Ben?’
    He lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. ‘The shopping can wait.’ He deliberately followed the brunette’s progress instead of looking at Meg. ‘Look, why don’t you head off? I might hang around for a while. I’ll find my own way home.’
    He knew exactly what interpretation Meg would put on that.
    The twist of her lips told her she had. Without another word, she turned and left.
    Clenching his hands, he set off down the beach, not even noticing the brunette when he passed her.
    A baby deserves to have the unconditional love of the two people who created it . If he left, who would his child have in its day-to-day life? Meg, who’d be wonderful, and Uncle Ben who’d never be there. His hands clenched. Meg’s father and Elsie could hardly be relied on to provide the baby with emotional support.
    He shook his head. He could at least make sure this child knew it was loved and wanted by its father. Things like that—they did matter.
    And this baby deserved only good things.
    When he reached the end of the beach he turned and walked back and then headed for the shops. Meg should be home by now, and he meant to buy every damn book about pregnancy and babies he could get his hands on. He wanted to be prepared for the baby’s arrival. He wanted to help Meg out in any way he could.
    What he didn’t need was her damn superiority, or her looking over his shoulder and raising a sceptical eyebrow at the books he selected. He had enough doubt of his own to deal with.
    He turned back to stare at the beach, the bay, and the water. Back in Port Stephens for good?
    Him?
    Hell.

CHAPTER SIX
    M EG SANG ALONG to her Madonna CD in full voice. She’d turned the volume up loud to disguise the fact she couldn’t reach the high notes and in an attempt to drown out the chorus of voices that plagued her—a litany of ‘what ifs’ and ‘what the hells’ and ‘no ways’. All circular and pointless. But persistent. Singing helped to quiet them.
    She broke off to complete a complicated manoeuvre with her crochet needle. At least as far as she was concerned it was complicated. Her friend Ally assured her that by the time she finished this baby shawl she’d have this particular stitch combination down pat.
    She caressed the delicate white wool and surveyed her work so far. It didn’t seem like much, considering how long it had taken her, but she didn’t begrudge a moment of that time. She’d have this finished in time for the baby’s arrival. Maybe only just, but it would be finished. And then she could wrap her baby in this lovely soft shawl, its wool so delicate it wouldn’t irritate newborn skin. She’d wrap her baby in this shawl and it would know how much it was loved.
    She lifted it to her cheek and savoured its softness.
    The song came to an end. She lowered the crocheting back to her lap and was about to resume when some sixth sense had her glancing towards the doorway.
    Ben.
    Her throat tightened. She swallowed once, twice. ‘Hey,’ she finally managed.
    ‘I knocked.’ He pointed back behind him.
    She grabbed the remote, turned the music down and motioned for him to take a seat. ‘With the music blaring like that there’s not a chance I’d have heard you.’
    He stood awkwardly in the doorway. She gripped the crochet needle until the metal bit