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 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.
“Move in with me.”
She blinked and sat up straighter. “What?”
“To achieve your objective, timing is everything. If that predictor stick turns purple, your body temp goes up and nature is good to go, what happens if you’re here and I’m there?” He shrugged. “It’s the classic setup for missed opportunities.”
“There’s some logic to that, but I don’t know, Nick.” She caught her lip between her teeth, the very first time she’d looked indecisive. “Invading your space?”
Her lack of enthusiasm made him want to convince her even more. “It was your space, too.” He’d gotten the house in the divorce. “There’s plenty of room, as you know. And we don’t want to drag out the process, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Like science, nature and biology it’s practical.”
He phrased it the same way she had. Distantly. As if they were talking about another couple being intimate.
Nick remembered all the messy emotions that had nearly brought him down right after she’d left. A guy puts up armor and when a girl gets through it leaves a mark. But this was different. The rules had been discussed and all parties involved agreed. Distanced. Simple. Goal-oriented. She’d get what she wanted. His guilt would be erased. Win/win. Both of them could move on. No feelings, no mess.
“Don’t you want to maximize the chances of conception?” he asked.
“Yes.” She met his gaze and her own was dark with determination. “More than anything in the world I want to have a baby.”
“Well,
then?”
“I’ve done the menstrual math. The old-fashioned way,” she added. “By my calculations ovulation is about a week away. Next Monday.”
“So I’ll help you move in Saturday. You don’t want heavy lifting to shock your eggs or anything. Relax the rest of the weekend.”
“You’re sure about this?” she asked skeptically.
“Yeah.” The gate on his feelings opened for a split second and excitement leaked out.
“Okay, then. I’ll move in.”
Nick nodded and again his gaze was drawn to the boxes around the room. She’d said it was a mess and only now did he realize that was a metaphor for his life. He hadn’t really expected her to take him up on his offer to move in, but there was no denying he was far too pleased that she had.
In about a week they were going to do what a man and woman did to make a baby. He was pretty pleased about that, too.
Chapter Three
Ryleigh stopped her compact car behind Nick’s silver SUV at the gated entrance to the neighborhood. She watched him lean out the driver’s window and speak to the guard, then cock his thumb toward her, obviously explaining that she would be living with him. That there was no need to call out the SWAT team on her account.
When the SUV pulled forward, she followed, then stopped when the guard held up his hand.
She lowered her window. “Hi.”
“Miss Evans.” This man was different from the one who’d worked the gate when she lived here. He was young, twenty something and wearing a light blue uniform shirt with navy-colored, official-looking emblems. “Doctor Damian explained that you’ll be staying with him.”
“That’s right.” But only for well-timed sex.
He handed her a visitor’s pass. “Just put this on your dashboard and you’re good to go—or stay.”
“Thanks.”
“Have a nice evening.”
“You, too,” she said, displaying the cardboard square where he’d directed.
This was the first time she’d been back since they’d broken up, and driving through the community was surreal. Nothing had changed, but everything felt different. The houses were all large, expensive and well-maintained. But it wasn’t familiar. She felt distant. And sad. She’d really loved the house and this area.
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