To Have the Doctor's Baby

The other doctor was about Nick’s height, a little over six feet tall. His dark hair had some gray at the temples which probably made him look distinguished as opposed to old. Yeah, double standard. His eyes were brown. He was tan. And women would most likely think he wasn’t bad looking. But was he brilliant? A good man? Not the best, because Ryleigh had first asked him, Nick, to father her baby. And the primal anger pushed through him again when his gaze dropped to Gallagher’s naked left ring finger. His reaction must have showed because the other doctor tensed.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “I have to go.”

Not exactly gosh look at the time, but close, and Nick felt a sense of satisfaction.

Ryleigh smiled up at him. “It was nice to meet you, Dr. Gallagher. And about the upcoming fundraiser, can I count on you to buy a table for the Children’s Medical Charities Fundraiser Gala?”

“That’s a question for the boss. Later, Nick.” The other man met his gaze, frowned, then walked away.

Nick’s work there was done and he started to say goodbye. Then he saw Ryleigh looking at the babies in isolettes in the newborn nursery on the other side of the glass. There were only a couple of infants since the majority of new mothers kept their babies in the room with them. Ryleigh would be one of those, judging by the tender yearning so plain on her face.

“So, are you settling in okay?” It was a lame question, but he didn’t know what else to say. The favor she’d asked was like the elephant in the room, and he wanted out of there in the worst way. But he couldn’t leave her looking like that. “Ryleigh?”

“You were kind of rude to Dr. Gallagher.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Did you think I was hitting on your partner?”

“He’s not my partner yet, and that wasn’t rude. You know better than anyone that I have a limited capacity for people skills and it’s reserved for the kids in peds.”

“I thought about asking him to father my baby.” There was teasing in her brown eyes when she turned and looked up at him. “But I decided that was a conversation better suited to a second meeting.”

“Good idea.” Not.

“Actually Spencer Stone crossed my mind,” she said thoughtfully.

“My best friend?” A really bad idea just got worse.

“He’s charming. Nice looking. A doctor, so he’s smart.” She was looking at the babies again. “Definitely on the list.”

Nick hadn’t believed she was serious about that. Now he wondered. “He’s also shallow. Self-centered. And arrogant.”

“I can live with that.”

“Even though he breaks hearts on a regular basis?”

“He’s a cardiologist,” she protested.

“So?”

“I’m not looking for deep feelings. It’s just sex with no strings attached. If Spencer is as shallow as you say, he’s perfect. Walking away won’t be a problem. And don’t be using the double standard on me. Guys do it all the time.”

Nick turned his back on the nursery window. If she were a guy, he wouldn’t be tied in knots right now. Thoughts of her—specifically, thoughts of her naked—had kept him awake last night. Maintaining their friendship after the divorce had been an extraordinarily pleasant surprise. He liked talking to her, keeping in touch without having to see her and not be able to touch. It was comfortable and he didn’t want to lose that. So he’d forced himself to think about her platonically.

Then she had to go and ask him to be the father of her baby and he couldn’t stop thinking about every last inch of her body, from the sexy column of her neck to the rogue freckle on the back of her knee. Did he want to sleep with her? Hell, yes. But a baby?

He’d screwed up their marriage, and the best thing he’d been able to say was that no kids were involved. It was his fault they hadn’t worked. From the outside he looked like a workaholic, but the truth was he had never been “all in” with his feelings. The way his father had fallen apart after his mother walked out was like watching the Rock of Gibraltar crumble into dust. Nick would never let himself lose control like that.

But that line in the sand meant he couldn’t meet Ryleigh’s needs and their marriage had been a casualty. As he recognized the longing in her eyes while looking at the babies, the guilt and responsibility of marrying when he knew he’d never be able to give her enough, weighed heavily on him. He’d really hurt her.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Nick.” Her voice wobbled. “I may never have a baby, but I have to stop the hurt inside whenever I see one. The only way to do that is to try. I don’t want to make the same mistake I did with our marriage.”

“You didn’t do anything,” he said.

“You’re wrong. I didn’t try as hard as I could have.” She looked up at him, tears swimming in her eyes. “Don’t be alarmed, but I think I’m going to cry. So I’ll just be going now.”

Something cracked and crumbled inside him as he reluctantly reached out and pulled her into his arms. No matter how hard he tried, he hadn’t been able to dismiss what she’d said about a man’s need for sex rivaling a woman’s yearning for a baby. It convinced him as nothing else could have that she was determined to move this plan forward, with or without him.

He hadn’t been able to give her what she needed when they were married. But now he could give her what she wanted and maybe cancel out at least one of the black marks on his soul.

“So you’re sure about this baby thing,” he said.

“Absolutely.” Conviction rang in her voice in spite of the tears.

Good for her. Nick was only sure about one thing. He couldn’t stand by and watch. He had no idea what form hell would take, but for sure he was going there because he couldn’t stand the thought of Ryleigh with another man. The very idea made him angrier than it should have and more pissed off than he’d ever been in his life.

“Okay,” he said. “Count me in.”

Chapter Two

Ryleigh walked through the parking lot of Peretti’s Italian Restaurant with Nick’s hand at the small of her back. It wasn’t the touch alone that had memories crashing in on her, although the way his fingers had her nerves tingling was annoying. But the déjà vu-ish feeling was more about this being their favorite restaurant. Their place. In another life.

He’d brought her here on their first date and swore she’d love it as much as he did. She’d barely eaten anything. Too nervous. Too love struck. Too anxious to sleep with him, be with him, which had happened maybe thirty minutes after they’d left that night. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other or be in each other’s arms fast enough.

A few months later Nick had asked her to marry him in the corner booth at the back of this restaurant.

“Dr. Nick. Mrs. Nick.” Vito Peretti’s slightly accented voice just kept the nostalgia hits coming. A handsome Italian man in his fifties, he smiled as they stepped inside the door.

“Hi, Vito.”

He’d taken a shine to a young couple in love. “It has been a long time since I see you together. Dr. Nick alone is wrong. I am so happy that two of my favorite people are back together.”

“No. We’re not together. I mean, we’re together right now. This moment.” Ryleigh slid her hands into the pockets of her black slacks. “We just came in to eat. Things to discuss.”

“Excellent. First you talk.” Vito nodded at Nick. “Clear the air. Fix the problem.”

“Just dinner,” Nick answered.

“Whatever you say.” The restaurant owner winked. “Food first. Then romance.”

Not this time, Ryleigh thought. She was over Nick Damian. That’s what made her plan workable.

Through the dimly lighted restaurant they were led to the back and she knew what was coming.

“Your table,” Vito said.

Every memory cell inside her vibrated in protest, but protesting for real would just raise more questions. When Vito pulled the white-cloth-covered table out for them to slide into the rounded booth, she did so without uttering a word. And, equally silent, Nick sat next to her. But the muscle in his jaw moved.

“I will bring your favorite wine,” he said.

Cabernet, she remembered. Some French name that never stuck in her head. Before she could tell him not to bother because she needed her wits intact, the man disappeared.

Nick rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. His eyes seemed to turn down at the corners more than usual, a clear indication that he was tired. He’d changed out of the scrubs she’d seen him wearing earlier that day outside the newborn nursery, when he agreed to her plan.

Now he had on worn jeans, a long-sleeved white cotton shirt and battered brown leather jacket. It was October and the brutal summer heat was gone, making the days pleasant but the nights chilly. One of the things she’d missed most was his warmth in bed. Then again, half the time he hadn’t been there. Why had it been so damn hard to get over what she hardly ever had?

“Sorry about Vito,” he said.

“No. I’m sorry. If my place wasn’t such a disaster from moving across the country, I’d have invited you over.”

“Still, I didn’t think it through. I guess it was a muscle-memory thing. With you in the car, it sort of just steered its way over here.”

Part of her hoped that meant he hadn’t brought another woman here. The other part recognized that feeling was stupid and foolish.

“No big deal. I’m just so grateful you agreed to help me out. We have things to discuss and the least I can do is buy you dinner.”

“I’ll arm wrestle you when the check comes.” One dark eyebrow lifted. “Although you might want to rethink that offer. A budget is your friend when having a baby.”

“You are having a baby?” Vito stopped at their table and heard the last couple words. “There is no fooling me. I can spot lovers, no?” Then he frowned. “But a pregnant lady should not consume alcohol. Perhaps instead of a bottle just a glass for Dr. Nick. And sparkling cider for Mrs. Nick?”

She wasn’t Mrs. Nick anymore. And after all this, Ryleigh was prepared to tackle Vito if he tried to leave without pouring her at least one glass out of that bottle of cabernet.

“I’m not pregnant,” she said.

“No worry.” Vito shrugged. “So you are here to set a mood as you try.”

She started to say no and realized that was only half true. They weren’t here to get their mood on as much as talk about getting pregnant. But she had a feeling if she talked about talking, Vito would remind her that verbal communication was not the way to get the job done.

“We’d appreciate it if you’d open the bottle,” Nick said.

“With pleasure. And your Caesar salad will be served shortly.”

“But—”

The man held up his hand, then poured a glass of wine for each of them. “I remember your favorites. A salad to share. Bread sticks with marinara and alfredo sauces for dipping. Then Vito’s world famous lasagna, also to share. And tiramisu for dessert.” He winked. “You share everything.”

More memories crashed over her. He was right about all of it.

“You have to give him credit. Nothing wrong with his powers of recall.” Nick grinned and held up his wine. “To Vito.”

She clinked her glass to his. “Gotta love him.”

“So, you’re not settled yet?” He rested his forearm on the table.

“I’m renting a two-bedroom hospital-subsidized apartment until I can find something more permanent. I have a lot of stuff in storage.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

Only with the baby. She hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about that. But there was something else she remembered about Nick. Once he’d given his word, he wouldn’t go back on it. “That’s why we’re here.”

“The baby.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Or, more specifically, the rules of engagement.”

“Okay. Go.”

She thought for a moment. “First of all, I need to say that I don’t want to lose your friendship. So, if that’s going to be a problem, speak now—”

“Agreed.” But his blue eyes turned a little dark and broody.

“We need to keep it simple and uncomplicated. Although Vito will be disappointed about no romance. But that’s the best way to mess up a wonderful friendship.”

“That works for me.”

“No matter what,” she added emphatically.

“Do you want me to pinkie swear?” he asked, holding up his little finger.

“If that’s a guarantee—yes,” she said, crooking hers and curving it around his outstretched finger.

“Okay. What else?”

She dropped her hand into her lap as she thought. “That’s the only rule that comes to mind.”

He smiled. “Did that feel too easy to you?”

“Give me a minute. I’ll think of something to make problems. Oh, right, about why we’re here.” Between the wine and his teasing, she began to relax. “I need to do some research on the internet about how to conceive a baby.”

Nick’s eyes sparkled with amusement over the top of the glass as he sipped his wine. “Unless anatomy or the mechanics of procreation have changed since I went to med school, conception is probably achieved in the usual way.”

“Funny guy.”

Not.

Their shoulders brushed and tingles of awareness danced through her. Her skin was hot, sensitive and she was pretty sure that was about anticipation. Getting naked with Nick was never far from her mind since she’d decided he should father her baby. And it was worse after walking into Peretti’s. Like he’d said, muscle memory.

“You used to appreciate my sense of humor,” he reminded her.

“I still do.” It was one of her favorite things about him. “Let me be more specific. I want to find out the optimum time of the month. To conceive. And anything else that might increase the odds of achieving the desired objective.”

“If you’d like, I can talk to Rebecca Hamilton.”

Aside from the fact that their agreement wasn’t for public consumption, she didn’t really want him talking to another woman about her and the baby. “Is that your girlfriend?”

“She’s a girl. And she’s a friend who’s married. Also a doctor. Ob-gyn. Any information you need, I’m sure she’ll have.”

“Oh.” Ryleigh refused to believe the ugly feeling churning through her had anything to do with jealousy. “Maybe. But are you prepared to answer her questions about why you’re asking?”

“Not really.”

Was his voice just a tiny bit hoarse? His eyes narrowed and more intense than moments ago? The expression reminded her of how he looked when he wanted her. A woman who’d craved even the barest amount of attention from the man she was completely in love with wasn’t likely to forget the look on his face when he wanted her.

Ryleigh cleared her throat. “Okay, so how about this. I’ll do my research and we’ll regroup.”

“Just let me know when and where,” he said.

“Give me a couple days. My place next time. It’s near the hospital so that will be convenient for us both.”

“I’ll be there.”

There might have been eagerness in his tone or it could just be wishful thinking on her part. It had happened before. Once upon a time she’d mistaken his wanting her as a sign that he reciprocated her feelings because she’d so desperately hoped he would. Now she knew better, but knowing better didn’t stop the hitch in her breathing, the pumped-up pulse. If just thinking about sex made her feel like this, what would actual sex do?

Make a baby, she hoped.

And that would be the end of it. No strings attached. Love had made everything difficult, but she’d learned her lesson and wasn’t going there again. That ship had sailed. But attraction was a different story. She was still attracted to Nick and that was a good thing.

It would help when the time came to get her pregnant.

Several days later, at the appointed time, Nick knocked on Ryleigh’s door. Her place was on the second floor located in an apartment complex behind Mercy Medical Center. He’d just finished up evening rounds and his two patients were doing well. Barring complications, he expected to discharge them the next morning.

The anticipation of seeing his ex-wife tonight had hummed through him all day. He hadn’t missed her these last two years, not exactly. Every time the idea of it crept in, he shut the feeling down. But now that she was back, well it was safe to say he was in a pretty good mood. More than one person had commented on that today and it was probably not a coincidence that all of them were women.

The door opened, and there was the one woman who’d occupied more of his thoughts than he was comfortable with. “Ryleigh.”

“Hi, Nick. Come in.” She stepped back and opened the door wider. After he walked in, she shut it behind him. “This place is still a mess. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not on my account.”

There were moving boxes stacked around the perimeter of the room and several on the dinette just off the kitchen. He stood in the living room with its charmless beige couch and matching chair. There was a faux-wood coffee table and matching end tables with ugly orange ceramic lamp, times two. “Don’t tell me. The place came furnished.”

“Pretty hideous, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Not in so many words.”

But looking at Ryleigh cancelled out the unattractive stuff. In worn jeans that hugged her curves and a pale yellow sweater she was like a slice of sunshine. Her shiny hair was pulled back in a ponytail and gold hoops dangled from her ears. As good as his mood had been, it got better still, just staring at her.

She sighed. “I had delusions of actually cooking, but work and research got in the way. How do you feel about Chinese takeout?”

“I’m easy.”

“Good. The food cartons, plates and eating utensils are in the kitchen. Help yourself. I’ll get drinks. We’ll eat in here.”

He walked in the kitchen and saw all his favorite Chinese food on display. Spring rolls. Sweet and sour chicken. Chow mein. A fork and one set of chopsticks. He’d tried to teach her how to use them and smiled at the memory of flying food and her swearing. But that was then and this was now. Ryleigh and Nick, Part Two. Simple, uncomplicated sex. Guys would kill to be in his shoes.

He set his plate down on one of the paper towels on the coffee table. Place mats. How very Ryleigh of her. She brought him a club soda with lime.

“I figured you were on call.”

“Yeah.” He always was and it left no time for them when they were married.

“I’m not.”

She set a glass of white wine beside his drink and settled next to him on the couch. They ate in silence and it wasn’t awkward. It was nice. Felt like old times.

“How was your day?” she asked.

“Good. You?”

“I’m settling in. Lots of meetings. Strategizing about new and creative ways to raise money for Children’s Medical Charities. It’s a challenge in this economy.”

“If anyone can talk the people into parting with their money, it’s you.” Nick should know. She’d somehow convinced him to go along with this baby thing.

When they finished eating she cleared the plates, refilled their drinks, then went down the hall and brought back a bunch of file folders from the second bedroom she used as a home office.

She put the tall stack of paperwork on the coffee table then sat beside him again. “My research.”

“No wonder you fed me first. To keep up my strength.”

“Having a baby isn’t as easy as you might think.” Her cocoa-colored eyes danced with laughter.

“And here I thought it was all about biology.”

“That. And timing. It’s critical.” She opened a file. “But there are things that can boost the odds of conceiving.”

“Such as?”

“The goal is to fertilize the egg.”

“Yeah. I think that was covered in Birds and Bees 101.” He moved closer, glancing at her computer printout, but mostly to feel the warmth of her. Draw in the sweet floral fragrance of her skin. That was something he’d missed and it hadn’t responded to the shut-down-feelings therapy.

“Everyone can use a refresher course. Even you, Doctor.” She looked at her notes. “Ovulation is the key. Besides guessing about when it occurs, there are ovulation predictor kits available at the pharmacy and basal-body-temperature-charts to know when it’s happening.”

“Really?”

All this fell into her territory and he didn’t need to know. But he liked watching her when she talked, the intensity and enthusiasm. The combination made her so damn beautiful he could hardly breathe. Still, this wasn’t about him. The amount of time and effort she’d put into this was a clear indication of how deep her desire to have a baby.

“When you pee on the stick from a kit, it will turn purple the day before ovulation, indicating a surge in…” She stopped and read from the paper. “Luteinizing hormone, which is what causes the ovary to release an egg. The key is to time sex within a day of the LH surge.”

Nick was focused on her mouth and pretty much didn’t hear much of anything until she said “sex.” He didn’t need a predictor kit or a thermometer to know he had a surge of his own and a spike in body temp.

He said the only thing he could think of, what with the blood flowing south of his belt. “Science is pretty amazing.”

“And fascinating.”

“Anything else I need to know?” Like when and where. Now was okay with him. He took a sip of water and not because he was thirsty.

“There was some information about positions during sex.”

He nearly choked. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Missionary might be more promising, but there aren’t any studies to back it up.”

If Ryleigh was involved, he’d be willing to volunteer for research on the subject. “Okay. I can see where that would be practical.”

“Then I saw something about lying still afterward. Remaining horizontal for fifteen minutes.” She shuffled through the papers, looking embarrassed and pretty damn cute. “Again, there’s no evidence to support the theory that it makes a difference, but it can’t hurt, either.”

So, a woman’s inclination to cuddle afterward might be based in biology and science, not emotion, he thought. “Got it.”

“I found a website with frequently asked questions.”

“Okay, now I’m starting to get performance anxiety.”

She slid to her corner of the couch and tucked her legs up beside her. A flush crept into her cheeks, and she didn’t quite meet his eyes.

She crossed her arms at her waist. “There was some discussion about a woman achieving climax—to increase the chances of conceiving.”

No pressure.

“And?” When she hesitated, he said, “Don’t tell me. There are no studies.”

She laughed. “No. But there’s a belief that the contractions move the guys along toward the target.”

“It makes sense.”

But he could truthfully say that not once when he’d made love to her had his goal been to move the guys. He’d only ever wanted to hold her in his arms, make her happy. And he was pretty sure he’d succeeded in bed. In every other way, he’d failed her, which was why making things up to her now was so important.

She lifted her gaze for a moment. “And last but not least there’s the debate about a.m. or p.m.”

“Morning or night—what?”

“Sex.” She sat cross-legged and leaned forward. “Studies have been done on this one and some indicate that there are more swimmers in the morning. But only a million, give or take. Fairly insignificant.”

“Hey, that’s my guys you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate.” She smiled, and the way her eyes lit up tied him in knots. “The thing is that when you’re talking eighty-eight million as opposed to eighty-seven million, it sounds like a lot but really isn’t.”

“I actually knew that only one is required.” Was it just him, or was it hot in here?

“Right.”

His gaze slid past hers to the bare walls, stack of boxes and unattractive, serviceable furniture. She was a nester and looked out of place in this cracker box with ugly furniture. It was just wrong. Fixing people was what he did, and the words popped out of his mouth before he’d thought them through.