Christy McKellen - Mills & Boon Showcase

She realised with a painful stab of recognition that Ben had gone so far away, in such a different direction from the youth they’d shared, that she didn’t know him at all any more. For all they’d shared over the last twenty-four hours, today’s Ben had been forged by loss and grief beyond her comprehension.

She’d loved Ben back then, with the fierce intensity of first love. But now? How could she love him when she didn’t know him any more? Wasn’t this just physical attraction she was feeling? She had never had sex without love. The fact was, though, she was the one who had encouraged this encounter. How could she back down now?

And yet his look of excited yet respectful anticipation made her swell with emotion. Did she love him again already? Was that what the heart-flipping thing was all about? Had her heart just taken up where it had left off twelve years ago? What if these four days were all she would ever have of him?

Desire warmed her again. She wanted him. She would take the chance.

She smiled as Ben impatiently pulled open the drawer. But the smile froze as he continued to dig through the contents. He swore. Slammed the door shut. Looked through another drawer. Then another. He threw out his hands in a gesture to indicate emptiness.

‘None. No protection. You got any?’ His voice was a burr of frustration and anger and something that could have been despair.

‘No. I...uh...don’t carry it with me.’

She’d had no use for protection for a long time. Seemed as if Ben was in the same boat.

He strode back and sat on the bed next to her. He smoothed back a lock of hair that had drifted across her cheek in a caress that was both gentle and sensual.

‘I want you so much. But I won’t risk getting you pregnant.’

An unplanned pregnancy wasn’t on her agenda either. No way would she suggest taking that risk, much as she yearned for him. ‘I’m not on the pill. S...sorry.’

‘Why should you apologise?’ He groaned. ‘I should have—’

‘Could we...could we go buy some?’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she knew that was a ridiculous idea. Ben acknowledged it with a grim smile. No doubt some busybody citizen of Dolphin Bay would be behind the counter at the pharmacy and only too eager to broadcast the news that Ben and his old girlfriend were in need of contraceptives.

‘Okay...bad idea.’ She didn’t know what else she could say.

Ben’s handsome face was contorted with frustration, his voice underscored with anguish. ‘Sandy. You have to know I won’t be a father again. Won’t have another child. Not after what happened to my little boy. Can’t risk that loss...that pain.’

Oh, Ben. Her heart felt as if it was tearing in sorrow for him, for the losses she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

‘I...I understand,’ she stuttered. But did she? Could she ever comprehend the agony he felt at losing his child? ‘D...do you want to talk about it?’

He shifted his body further from her. But more than a physical distance loomed between them. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

‘You have a right to know why I feel this way.’

‘Of course,’ she murmured.

‘When my mother knew Liam was on the way she told me that I wouldn’t know what love was until I held my first child in my arms. I scoffed at her. I thought I knew what it was to love.’

‘Lizzie said something similar after Amy was born.’

Ben swallowed hard. It must be agony for him to relive his memories.

‘A father’s love—it was so unexpected. So overwhelming. My mother was right. I would have done anything for my son.’

‘Of course you would have,’ she murmured, feeling helpless. She didn’t know what to say—a thirty-year-old single whose only experience of loving a child was her niece.

‘Changing nappies. Getting up at all hours of the night the minute I heard a whimper. Rocking him in my arms for hours to soothe him when he was teething. I did all that. But...but I couldn’t save his life.’

Survivor’s guilt. Post-traumatic stress. Labels she thought might apply—but what did she know about how to help him?

‘Ben, you’re carrying a big burden. Did you have counselling to help you come to terms with your loss?’

As soon as the question left her mouth she knew it was a mistake. Ben so obviously hadn’t come to terms with it.

His eyes were as bleak as a storm-tossed sea. ‘I had counselling. But nothing can change the fact I couldn’t save my baby son. End of story. On the day I buried him I vowed I would never have another child.’

‘Because...because you think you don’t deserve another child?’

‘That too. But I couldn’t bear the agony of loss again.’

She knew it wasn’t the time to say that new life could bring new hope. That there was the possibility of loss any time you put your heart on the line. But how could she possibly understand what he’d gone through? Could she blame him for never wanting to risk finding himself in that unimaginably dark place again?

‘Ben, I’m so sad for you.’ She took his scarred, damaged hand in hers and squeezed it, wanting him to know how much she felt for him but was unable to express. He put his arms around her and pulled her tight. She nestled her face just below his shoulder, against the warm, solid muscle of his chest.

But she was sad for herself, too.

She thought back to her birthday goals. Get married and have lots of kids. Three kids—two girls and a boy.

It was as if Ben had read her mind. ‘Remember how we used to talk about having kids? When were barely more than kids ourselves?’

‘Yes,’ she said. She swallowed hard against the lump of disappointment that threatened to choke her. She’d always seen being a mother in her future. Had never contemplated any other option.

He pulled back from her and she was forced to meet his gaze.

‘So me not wanting kids could be a deal-breaker?’

She had to clear her throat before she answered, trying not to let him guess how shaken she was. ‘Perhaps. For something long-term. But we’re only talking four days, aren’t we? It doesn’t matter for...for a fling.’

‘I guess not. But I wanted to make sure you knew where I stood.’

At the age of thirty she couldn’t afford to waste time on any relationship—no matter how brief—that didn’t have the possibility of children. Knowing that parenthood wasn’t an option for Ben should make her pack up and leave Dolphin Bay right now. But she didn’t have to think further than four days—and nothing could stop her from having this time with Ben. Come what may.

‘I’m sorry, Sandy,’ said Ben. ‘This wasn’t the way I thought things would pan out today.’

‘It doesn’t matter. I...I’ve lost the mood,’ she confessed.

Suddenly she felt self-conscious being naked. With a murmur about being cold she disengaged herself from his arms. Fumbled around on the bed and found her dress. Pulled it over her head without bothering about wasting minutes with her bra. Wiggled into her panties. Found his clothes and handed them to him.

She felt very alone when he turned his back to her and dressed in awkward silence.

She sat on the edge of the bed and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong. ‘Sunny Sandy’, Ben had used to call her. But it was hard to see the glass-half-full side of finding out that he didn’t ever want to have another child. And then there was that photo. How ready was he really to move on to another woman?

* * *

Ben wanted to pound the wall with his fists to vent his frustration and anger. He wanted to swear and curse. To fight his way through raging surf might help, too.

But he could do none of that. Sandy looked so woebegone sitting there, biting on her lip, her arms crossed defensively across her beautiful breasts. He had to control himself. Do anything in his power to reignite her smile.