First Comes Baby...: The Loner's Guarded Heart by Michelle Douglas Read Free Book Online Page B

speaking of weddings...’ She rose and hitched her head towards the back door.
    Weddings? He scowled.
    ‘C’mon. I need your help measuring the back yard.’
    ‘What the hell for—?’
    He broke off on an expletive to catch the industrial tape measure she tossed him—an old one of her father’s, no doubt—before it brained him. She disappeared outside.
    Glowering, he slouched after her. ‘What for?’ he repeated.
    ‘For the marquee. Elsie and my father can be married in the side garden by the rose bushes, weather permitting, and we’ll set up a marquee out the back here for the meal and speeches and dancing.’
    ‘Why the hell can’t they get married in the registry office?’
    She spun around, hands on hips. The sun hit her hair, her eyes, the shine on her lips. With her baby bump, she looked like a golden goddess of fertility. A desirable goddess. He blinked and took a step back.
    ‘This is a wedding. It should be celebrated.’
    ‘I have never met two people less likely to want to celebrate.’
    ‘Precisely.’
    He narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you up to?’
    ‘Shut up, Ben, and measure.’
    They measured.
    The sun shone, the sky was clear and salt scented the air, mingling with the myriad scents from Meg’s garden. Given the sobering discussion they’d just had, he’d have thought it impossible to relax, but as he jotted down the measurements that was exactly what he found himself doing.
    To his relief, Meg did too. He knew he’d freaked her out with his announcement yesterday—that he’d shocked and stressed her. He paused. And then stiffened. He’d stressed her. She was pregnant and he’d stressed her. He was an idiot! Couldn’t he have found a less threatening and shocking way of blurting his intentions out?
    His hands clenched. He was a tenfold idiot for not actually working out the nuts and bolts of those intentions prior to bursting in on her the way he had—for not setting before her a carefully thought-out plan that she could work with. She’d spend the next six weeks in a state of uncertainty—which for Meg translated into stress and worry and an endless circling litany of ‘what-ifs’—until he made a decision. He bit back a curse. She’d dealt with him with more grace than he deserved.
    He shot a quick glance in her direction. She didn’t look stressed or fragile or the worse for wear at the moment. Her skin glowed with a health and vigour he’d never noticed before. Her hair shone in the sun and...
    He rolled his shoulders and tried to keep his attention above neck level.
    It was just... Her baby bump was small, but it was unmistakable. And it fascinated him.
    ‘Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?’ he blurted out in the middle of some soliloquy she was giving him about round tables versus rectangular.
    She broke off to blink at him, and then she laughed. ‘I’m pregnant, not ill. I can keep doing all the things I was doing before I became pregnant.’
    Yeah, but she was doing a lot—perhaps more than was good for her. She ran her own childcare centre—worked there five days a week and heaven only knew how many other hours she put into it. She had to maintain this enormous house and garden. And now she was organising a wedding.
    He folded his arms. It was just as well he had come home. He could at least shoulder some of the burden and make sure she looked after herself. Regardless of any other decision he came to, he could at least do that.
    She started talking again and his gaze drifted back towards her baby bump. But on the way down the intriguing shadow of cleavage in the vee of her shirt snagged his attention. His breath jammed in his throat and a pulse pounded at his groin. The soft cotton of her blouse seemed to enhance the sweet fullness of her breasts.
    That pulse pounded harder as he imagined the weight of those breasts in his hands and the way the nipples would harden if he were to run his thumbs over them—back and forth, over and over, until her head