To Have the Doctor's Baby

by Teresa Southwick

  He whistled. “An ambitious goal, what with the economy recovering.”

  “So you can see why I’ve been sort of a basket case.”

  “Sort of?” One dark eyebrow lifted as he leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of her chair.

  “Okay. I’ve been crazed. But seriously, Nick…” She put her hand on his knee. “Thanks for coming tonight. The support means a lot to me and I know you hate these things.”

  “Can you blame me?” He looked at her. “Blood orange emulsion? Really?”

  “When people come to a charity event they expect exotic, unidentifiable food,” she defended.

  “I think this menu will meet and exceed the expected weird factor.”

  This verbal sparring only happened with Nick. When they’d split up, she’d missed it. Along with the way he looked at her, like he was now. As if he wanted her. She forced herself to look away from him, afraid her eyes would give away the weakness she was feeling for him. Dinner was moving forward. Waiters in white shirts and black pants were bustling around serving salads and refilling water glasses. The celebrity chef was chatting up the people at the next table. When she saw Ryleigh, she waved and came over.

  “Hi, there, Miss Mega Event Coordinator.”

  “Candy.” Ryleigh smiled at the blue-eyed blonde in the white chef jacket that didn’t do a very good job of concealing her growing baby bump. “You did a fabulous job of telling your story.”

  “It’s easy to do when there’s a happy ending. I’d like to give every sick kid one.” Candy settled a hand on her belly as her gaze jumped to Nick. “Is this your husband? I didn’t know you were married.”

  Ryleigh met his amused gaze. She was trying to figure out how to explain him and he knew it. Friendly exes? Friends with benefits? The ex-husband she’d convinced to help her have a baby? Finally she said, “This is Nick.”

  “You could say we’re friends from Mercy Medical Center. Nick Damian.” He held out his hand and she shook it.

  “You’re the pediatric pulmonologist.” Candy’s voice held traces of awe as if she were meeting a rock star or the president.

  “Guilty,” he said.

  Candy looked from one of them to the other. “So, when she goes to spend all the money from this event, do you play the friend card?”

  He laughed and looked at Ryleigh. “I take advantage of whatever I can.”

  “I bet you do.” Candy’s gaze dropped to his hand, and the thumb brushing back and forth on Ryleigh’s neck. “I could have sworn you two were a couple. And I’m not usually wrong about these things.”

  She wasn’t completely wrong, or completely right, Ryleigh thought. And it was time to change the subject. “I thought your specialty was arugula, not interpersonal relationships.”

  Candy shrugged. “A chef gets personal with food. People are a logical next step. And it’s a shame.”

  “People and food?” he asked.

  “No, you guys not being a couple.” She absently rubbed her pregnant belly. “You’d make beautiful babies together.”

  Not this month, Ryleigh thought sadly. And next month? She didn’t know if she could handle more time under his roof and still keep her feelings in check.

  “I have to finish making the rounds.” Candy leaned down and gave Ryleigh a hug, then looked at Nick. “It was great to meet you, Doc.”

  “Same here.”

  The dinner was fabulous, even the salad, if one didn’t dissect the parts and simply enjoyed it as a whole. When coffee and chocolate cake with multiple layers and fillings that was to-die-for were served, the auctioneer took the stage and worked the crowd. He did a fantastic job of getting the audience involved, enthusiastic and generous. It didn’t hurt that the big screens were streaming pictures of children in various treatments at the hospital, then healthy, running and playing.

  When that portion of the evening ended, they’d made almost another two hundred thousand dollars, by Ryleigh’s mental tally. Even Nick had bid for and won a spa treatment at one of the big resorts on The Strip. The five-piece band had set up and were playing dance tunes. People who weren’t staying for that were heading for the exits.

  She and Nick were alone at the table. Her skin tingled everywhere as if she’d had a full-body massage—probably a result of Nick’s touching her. If he could do that with one finger, imagine what would happen if he used both hands. The thing was, she didn’t have to imagine. She actually knew. The thought had a knot of yearning growing inside her.

  “So,” she said, to distract herself, “I was just wondering what you’re going to do with that super-expensive spa treatment you bought.”

  “Christmas isn’t that far away. I thought it would make a nice gift for Margo.”

  “Mellow her out?”

  “One hopes.” He rested his forearms on the table as he looked at her. “And I was just wondering why you bid against me.”

  “Jack up the price.” She smiled. “It’s for a good cause.”

  “Speaking of causes…” He stood and held out his hand. “Dance with me.”

  That so wasn’t a good idea. “You don’t have to, Nick. It’s been a rough week for you. You’re probably tired.”

  “Not that tired.” A gleam stole into his eyes. “You have to be here to the bitter end, right?”

  “Until our allotted time here in the ballroom is up,” she confirmed.

  “Then we might as well take advantage of the music.” His hand still beckoned.

  “If you want to go early, I can get a cab—”

  “No way. I brought you, I’ll take you home.” His eyes narrowed with intensity. “Right now I just want to dance with you. For old time’s sake.”

  “Okay.” She put her fingers into his palm and let him pull her to her feet.

  He led her onto the parquet floor set up to the right of the tables. Sliding his arm around her waist, he pulled her into his arms, then folded her hand in his and pressed it against his chest. Even through his tuxedo coat, she could feel his heart beating and his breath seemed to come just a little faster even though the steps of the slow dance were not much of an exertion. In fact they barely moved. He just held her and she wanted to stay there forever.

  It was raining when they left the ballroom. Rain was scarce in Las Vegas and Ryleigh loved the sight and sound of it. She missed that from her time on the East Coast.

  But not as much as she’d missed having Nick hold her, feeling his strong arms around her, hearing his heart beat beneath her cheek.

  Dancing was an acceptable, rule-following way to do that when they’d missed by a day the chance to be in each other’s arms, to make a baby. Unfortunately a missed opportunity didn’t stop her from wanting him. And here in the car driving back to the house in the rain, she felt as if his arms were still around her. With his spicy masculine scent and the smell of his skin sneaking inside her, surrounding her, she felt as if he were still touching her everywhere.

  Suddenly it was a challenge to draw air into her lungs.

  “You okay?” Nick’s voice had a husky edge to it.

  “Yeah.” She blew out a sigh. “Fine. Why?”

  “I can just feel something’s bothering you.”

  “Not really. Tired, I guess,” she added.

  “We’re almost home.”

  She really was tired. Tired of being the rules police even though she was responsible for putting them in place. She had two choices. She could live under his roof for another month, at which time they would try to make a baby. Or she could move back to her apartment and hope he was willing and available when she was ovulating. Then another thought occurred to her.

  She could find someone else to be the father.

  When everything in her rebelled at that thought, she scratched it off the list. Somehow she’d find a way to have Nick’s baby and work within their previously established guidelines.

  Finally he pulled up to the security gates in his housing development and waited for them to open. Then he slowly ma
de all the turns until he’d pulled to a stop in the driveway. The rain had stopped. Lucky her.

  She lifted the skirt of her long dress so the wet ground didn’t destroy it as they walked inside. Flipping on light switches in the long entry, they made their way to the kitchen where he put his keys on the built-in desk.

  “Do you want a nightcap?” Nick asked. “I’ve got some brandy. Or wine.”

  “No thanks.” She took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and tried to twist off the cap. It wouldn’t budge. “Damn it. A person could dehydrate trying to get one of these open. It’s like dying of thirst in the desert with water ten feet away.”

  The same could be said of her soul, what with Nick so close and yet so far.

  She slapped the bottle on the counter. “I didn’t want it anyway.”

  And then Nick was there, the heat of his body reaching out to her. “I’ll do it.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m going to bed.”

  She started by him and he grabbed her arm, stopping her. The unyielding touch made her look up at him.

  “Ryleigh—” His rough voice scraped over her skin.

  “I really have to go upstairs. Now.”

  “Me, too. But—”

  Yeah, there was always a but. The buts could get her into a lot of trouble. He pulled the end of his tie and undid the bow, then let the ends dangle. Touching his fingers to the top button on his formal shirt, he twisted, undoing it. After running his fingers through his hair, he slapped his palm on the counter. Frustration vibrated around them as he trapped her in front of him.

  “I better go, Nick. Let me go to bed before I—”

  “What?” A muscle jerked in his cheek as he stared at her.

  “Before I can’t go at all.” She tried to move past him on the other side, but he shifted his body to stop her.

  “I’m taking you to bed.” His voice was low, husky, the tone firm. His gaze skipped over hers, searching for signs of resistance. He wouldn’t find any because she couldn’t manage to rally them. Not this time. Not anymore.

  Her heart was racing as she stood on tiptoe and gently touched her lips to his. The soft kiss instantly exploded into flames. It was as if the whole night was foreplay, leading up to this moment. He slid his arm around her waist and possessively pressed her against him as he thoroughly ravaged her mouth.

  When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard. “We can’t—”

  She shook her head. “Don’t do this to me, Nick. Don’t promise like that then back away now—”

  “Just saying—not in the kitchen,” he managed, struggling for air.

  “Oh.” She smiled and took his hand.

  They held on to each other and managed to make it up the stairs. She started to draw him into his room.

  “No,” he said. “Yours.”

  She was in no mood to argue as he bypassed the master bedroom and pulled her into the guest quarters where she slept. Neither of them had sleeping on their mind.

  “Here.” Where no sex had gone before.

  His whisper brushed her lips just before he really took possession. And she gave him full and free access, opening to him. With his tongue, he coaxed her into the heat until she was desperate to go up in flames.

  Ryleigh backed up a step and frantically reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. Nick turned her and pushed her hands away, doing the task himself.

  “You have no idea how much I missed doing that for you.”

  Before she could fully grasp the husbandly sentiment, he pressed his mouth to her neck, shoulder and down her back as the silky material slid to the floor. She was wearing nothing but panties and silver hot-diggity-damn high heels. She stepped out of the dress and turned.

  “I like your outfit.” His eyes gleamed with approval and something so sizzling it made her burn all over.

  “You have too many clothes on,” she said.

  “Easy to fix—”

  Ryleigh helped him pull them off because she couldn’t wait. That’s when she realized that from the second she’d seen him in the tux, she’d wanted him out of it and in her bed. In what was probably a world record for speed, they finally fell to the mattress, wrapped in each other’s arms.

  He kissed her jaw, her breasts and down her belly. She did the same to him and had the satisfaction of hearing a hiss as he drew in a breath. His sweet revenge followed as his fingers touched her everywhere his mouth had been, then moved lower, between her thighs. The feeling was so electric, when he circled the exquisitely feminine bundle of nerve endings, she arched her back and nearly jumped off the bed.

  “Easy, love,” he crooned.

  “Oh, Nick, I need you—”

  “I know. God, I know—”

  “Now. Please,” she begged.

  Without another word, he settled himself over her and pushed inside. He filled her perfectly and she accepted him gratefully, closing around him. Then he moved, driving into her while she took her fill. He urged her higher and higher until pleasure exploded through her like the flash and explosion of fireworks. And he was only a heartbeat behind.

  He groaned, a long satisfied sound as he went still and threw back his head. The muscles in his arms bulged and the cords in his neck stood out as release swept through him.

  It was a long time later when the magnitude of everything Ryleigh had done sank in. Nick was asleep and had her wrapped in his arms. The feeling of contentment hadn’t lasted long when she realized her choices had changed in the blink of an eye, as quick as the sound of a sigh.

  She could either stop having sex with Nick.

  Or she could stop pretending it was only sex.

  But she had to pick one.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ryleigh was still rocking the glow of the Saturday-night fundraiser at work on Monday morning. The tallies were in and it had earned more than any of the previous Children’s Medical Charities fundraisers. She had even more money than expected to spend on the kids.

  On a personal note, she and Nick had spent the weekend in bed. Practically. She knew it wasn’t about sex anymore but wasn’t prepared to define exactly what it was. There were feelings on her part for sure. For Nick? She was only pretty sure.

  Someone had emailed her a picture of her and Nick from Saturday night that was now her monitor’s screensaver. It wasn’t a bad shot; probably the white dress made her look good. And the way she was staring up at Nick, it was a wonder her computer didn’t spontaneously combust.

  He was so handsome in his tuxedo and was staring back at her with so much intensity in his expression, as if she might disappear at any moment and he was trying to hang on with everything he had. Just why she went there wasn’t clear, but that was the first thing that popped into her head.

  There was a knock on her partially open office door before it was pushed wide. “Ms. Evans?”

  “Yes.” She glanced at her desk calendar for her appointment’s name. “Nora Cook?”

  “Yes.” The trim, attractive woman was in her late fifties and had straight dark brown hair cut in layers that touched her shoulders. Her eyes were light brown behind stylish, square glasses with black frames. She moved into the room and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And you. Please have a seat.”

  The other woman took the chair on the left and settled her purse and briefcase on the floor beside her. “Thank you for taking the time to see me.”

  “You’re the volunteer director for the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation of Las Vegas.”

  “Yes.”

  That’s why Ryleigh had agreed to the meeting. Nick’s stepbrother had died of the disease and when the call came in, she couldn’t turn down the request for a face-to-face.

  “How can I help you?” she asked.

  “The simple answer? Money.” Nora shrugged. “There are a lot of CF people in the valley who can’t afford medical insurance for their families or lost it along with their employment. We have a one-hundred-thousand-dollar shortf
all in our budget. Without those funds children won’t have medications, respiratory therapy equipment or educational support and personnel to help them and their families manage the disease. And that’s a very important part of keeping kids alive. Where there’s life, there’s hope. In the last twenty years, research has come up with drugs and therapies to prolong patients’ lives and help these kids grow up. But it takes money.”

  Ryleigh was moved, not just by what she said, but the way she said it. And there was a profound sadness etched on the woman’s face that tugged at the heart.

  “Okay,” she said simply.

  Nora blinked. “What?”

  “Children’s Medical Charities will help you fill your budget gap.”

  “Wow. That wasn’t even my most persuasive stuff. I came armed with statistics. Now I don’t know what to say.”

  “How about thank you?” Ryleigh suggested.

  “Absolutely. You have no idea how much we appreciate this.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Ryleigh said, “how did you get involved with the foundation?”

  Nora’s mouth tightened just a fraction before she answered. “My son had cystic fibrosis.”

  “Had?” Ryleigh shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

  “You don’t have to bring them up because they never go away. Not really. I got involved with the organization because after my son died, the grief was crushing. I needed to do something to crush it right back, and it had to be proactive. That was a lot of years ago, not long after Todd passed away.”

  Ryleigh’s stomach dropped. Nick’s stepbrother had CF and his name was Todd. That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence. “Do you by any chance know Nick Damian?”

  The woman smiled sadly. “I used to be married to his father. Do you know Nick from the hospital?”

  “Yes,” Ryleigh agreed. “And I used to be married to him.”

  Nora looked a little startled. “So, you and I are members of a small club that includes women formerly married to Damian men, who then went back to their maiden names.”