LITMIR.BIZ

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and presence. The bed seemed very big and empty without him. Hurry, hurry, hurry back! She wriggled on the quilt in an ecstasy of anticipation, pressed her thighs together hard. Twelve years she’d waited, and she didn’t want to wait a second longer.

      But she contained her impatience enough to watch in sensual appreciation as Ben, buck naked, strode without a trace of self-consciousness towards the tall dresser at the other side of the bed. He was magnificent, her surf god, in just his skin. Broad shoulders tapering to the tight defined muscles of his back; firm, strong buttocks, pale against the tan of the rest of him; long, muscular legs. A wave of pure longing for him swept through her and she gripped her hands tight by her sides.

      He reached the dresser, pulled out the top drawer.

      Yes! Get the protection and get back here. Pronto!

      But he hesitated—that taut, magnificent body was suddenly very still. Then he reached for a small framed photo that stood on the top of the dresser. It was too far away for Sandy to make out the details, just that there was a woman. Ben picked it up and slid it into the drawer, face downwards.

      Sandy caught her breath.

      Jodi. The photo must be of Jodi.

      Ben didn’t want her to see it. Didn’t want Jodi seeing her naked on his bed.

      And that was okay. Of course it was.

      She had absolutely no reason to be upset by his action. He’d told her his late wife had loved him so unselfishly that she didn’t want him to be alone. Sandy couldn’t allow herself even a twinge of jealousy that Jodi had been the perfect wife.

      But the desire that had been simmering though her suddenly went right off the boil. Despite the warmth of the day, she shivered. She pulled herself up on her elbows, looked around for something to cover her nakedness. She found his shirt, clutched it against her. It was still warm from his body heat.

      Ben’s gaze caught hers in a long, silent connection. Sandy’s throat tightened. He knew she’d seen. But he didn’t say anything. She knew he wouldn’t. Knew she couldn’t ask—in spite of his earlier frankness.

      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

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