“What?” He frowned. “Why?”
“I think it would be for the best.”
“So, you’ve changed your mind about having a baby?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “It didn’t take the first time so you’re giving up?”
“Of course not.” But she wondered why he went there. “Do you want to give up?”
“I’m not the one moving out.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “No, you’re the one who broke the rules.”
“You’re talking about when I kissed you.”
“Right in one.” So it had been on his mind, too. “That’s not what I signed on for.”
“Me, either.” He blew out a long breath. “It was nothing more than a brain hiccup.”
“That’s the correct medical terminology?”
“It is.” His tone was completely serious even though the corners of his mouth curved up.
“Define a ‘brain hiccup,’” she said.
“I’m a guy. You’re a woman. A beautiful sexy woman,” he added. “I like you. Brain hiccup, the kiss happened.”
“If you say so.” Her insides were doing a little happy dance because he thought she was beautiful and sexy. “But that is exactly the sort of thing we said couldn’t happen. And if I wasn’t living here, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“I thought we also agreed that your being here was convenient and would maximize the chance of pregnancy.”
“True. But—”
He put a finger on her lips to stop the words. “No buts. It won’t happen again. I give you my word.”
“So you’re still on board with the baby?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Unless you can’t handle the arrangement.”
The words challenged, and Ryleigh felt as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff. There was no way to know whether or not she’d smash up on the rocks below, but she couldn’t back out and show weakness. She wasn’t sure she would ever get pregnant. Or even be a mother. And she knew Nick would never be hers.
They could be friends. They could be lovers. But neither of those designations would give her what she’d once wanted more than anything—his heart. Now the only thing she wanted was his baby. If she ran for cover, he might change his mind about helping her do that.
There was just one way to prove to him that she could handle whatever happened. She needed to show him that living under the same roof was no big deal to her.
“Okay, then.” She met his gaze. “Since we understand each other, I’ll stay.”
Chapter Nine
Nick felt a hand on his face and turned his hot cheek into the coolness. He must be dreaming because he’d swear Ryleigh was sitting beside him on the bed. When soft lips touched his forehead, he decided that he never wanted to wake up. Her smell surrounded him and it was enough. Then he gave in to the tickle torturing his raw throat and coughed until his ribs hurt.
“Nick?”
That was her voice. He opened his eyes and she was there, but he didn’t trust that this wasn’t another dream. Too many times he’d been disappointed. “Ry?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“You don’t look so good.” She rested the back of her hand on his forehead and the coolness felt really nice. “I think you’ve got a fever. I’ve looked everywhere for a thermometer. Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Of course not. You’re a doctor. Why in the world would you have a simple little thing to determine exactly how high your temperature is?”
“If it will make you happy, I’ll go get one.” His voice was a hoarse rasp and it hurt to talk. In fact, now that he knew he was awake, it hurt just to lie there and be.
“Easy, big guy.” She gently pressed his shoulder down when he started to move. “That’s not necessary.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight o’clock. In the morning,” she added.
“What day is it?”
“Monday.”
“Crap.” Just his luck. The man who never got sick managed to pull it off on his favorite day of the week. “Margo called.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“Yes.”
“Did she wonder why you were here so early?” He raised up on one elbow.
“Of course.”
“What did you tell her?”
“Nothing. We didn’t discuss it. She would never ask. That’s too unprofessional. But of course she was curious. Any woman would be.”
His adrenaline surge quickly depleted and he was flat on his back again. “Why did she call?”
“She wondered why you weren’t in the office yet and couldn’t reach you on your cell or pager. I was sure you’d heard the phone. That’s why I came in here. Margo wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.”
“I’m not. I just wish I was.” Nick rubbed both of his hands over his face, hoping it would get rid of the fuzzy feeling in his head along with whatever hellish virus was making him feel like roadkill. “Move. I have to get up. I’m already late.”
“No way you’re going anywhere. You’re sick.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“I heard you coughing all night,” she protested.
“Sorry.” He’d kept her awake. That made him feel even worse. “Let me get up. I’ll take a shower and be good as new. How about that?”
“How about no.” She stared down at him and the early morning light peeking through the shutter slats highlighted the curve of her cheek, the shadows of worry in her eyes. As bad as he felt, he still wanted to pull her down beside him.
“Look, Ry, I don’t have the time to argue. I overslept. Patients will be waiting.”
“Maybe a little. But Carlton is there.”
“He’s not me,” Nick snapped.
“Who is?” Ryleigh replied sweetly. “But the patients Margo can’t reschedule will just have to live with the disappointment of not seeing you. Or they’ll just have to wait a little longer to be seen by Carlton.”
Nick had just enough energy to juice his exasperation. He was ticked off at Gallagher. Irritated with Ryleigh because she wouldn’t get out of his way. Most of all he was annoyed at himself. That wasn’t new, but the reason was. He was never sick, and he hated it.
“Relax, Nick. Carlton’s got your back. You’re under the weather—”
“Not that bad.” He slung his forearm across his forehead. “I never get sick.”
“I know. Iron man.”
He heard the smile in her voice, and that went on the list of things that were really getting on his nerves. “Don’t patronize me.”
“Heaven forbid. I’m going to do something better than that.”
He moved his arm and warily met her gaze. “What?”
“You’ll see.” She stood up. “It’s a discussion we’re going to have after I bring you some aspirin and you take a shower, to bring down the fever. Put the water as cool as you can stand it.”
He could take it pretty cool thanks to all the practice on account of all the stupid rules in place to make sure their friendship survived the process of conceiving a baby. He was just about pissed off enough to toss her rules in the dumper and pull her down in the bed, then proceed to kiss her breathless for the hell of it and because he wanted to. The only thing that stopped him was that he didn’t want to expose her to what he had any more than she already was.
She left and he threw back the covers then sat up on the side of the bed. He hadn’t pulled together the energy to move any farther before she returned with pills and a glass of cold water. He took it and swallowed the medicine.
When he tried to hand back the glass, she said, “Drink it all. You need to hydrate.”
She was right, damn it.
And she was right about the shower, too. He felt better when he got out. The aches had diminished and his head was clearer. Probably a function of bringing down his temp. But he was still exhausted and his throat was on fire.
He dressed in scrubs and
went downstairs wearing his I-feel-so-much-better face, but Ryleigh wasn’t there to see it. The disappointment arcing through him was more about not seeing her, but that made no sense. She had a job to do, too. He should be grateful she’d stayed long enough to get him up, shove aspirin at him and make sure he was moving. But he’d been looking forward to seeing what she had planned that was better than patronizing him.
Speaking of moving, he needed to get to the office and went to the kitchen desk where he always put his car keys. The usual spot was empty and he chalked it up to a mental lapse, what with flu symptoms starting yesterday. So he turned the house upside down without finding them. His phone and pager were missing in action, too. But in the search he’d found a note from Ryleigh on the kitchen island. The good stuff is always in the last place you look. It said: Back soon. Went to get a thermometer and other stuff. Relax. Rest!
It was the oddest thing. He didn’t even have the energy to get annoyed, although he was really going to try. Before he could manage to get a good mad on, he heard the front door open and close.
Moments later she walked into the kitchen and frowned at him. “Tell me you’re wearing those scrubs as pajamas.”
“Okay. If you’ll tell me where my keys, phone and pager are hiding.”
“I’m keeping them in a safe, secure location. Unless someone is bleeding or on fire and you’re the only man on the planet who can make it better, you’re staying put.”
His head was starting to pound again so he sat on one of the island stools in the kitchen. “Has anyone ever told you you’re bossy?”
“Yes. It’s one of my best qualities.”
He rested his elbow on the island and settled his cheek in his palm. “What’s in the bags?”
“Soda. Popsicles. Soup. Stuff I thought would be easy going down and feel good on your throat.” After putting the things away she poured clear soda in a glass with ice cubes and a straw, then slid it in front of him. “Drink this.”
And then she disappeared upstairs. Moments later she was back with his pillow, a sheet and light blanket. The way she was bustling around made him tired, although he never seemed to get tired of watching her. She was small and curvy, her legs the stuff of male fantasy. She had on a long-sleeved, plain purple T-shirt, worn jeans that fit her like a second skin, and fleece-lined beige boots that hit her mid-calf. Come to think of it, unlike his pajamas, what she was wearing wouldn’t double for office attire.
“Aren’t you late for work?” he asked.
She was in the family room, smoothing a sheet on the sofa in front of the flat-screen TV. “I don’t have meetings today. Everything I have scheduled can be done from here. My assistant will forward any calls that are important to my cell phone.”
“That means you’re staying?”
She glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “I’ll be here to boss you around all day.”
“Oh, dear God.”
She laughed. “Admit it. Inside you’re doing the dance of joy that I’ll be nearby to keep your fluid levels up and feed you.” He was happy but would never admit it. He’d never been able to count on anyone and didn’t want to start now. And the one time someone had counted on him, he’d deserted him.
“When do I get my keys back?”
She plumped his pillow, then turned and settled her hands on her hips. “When you promise on all that’s holy that you will stay here and not take your germs out of this house to unleash them on an unsuspecting world.”
He stood and waited for the room to stop spinning, then walked into the family room and sat on the sofa. “I’m abandoning my patients, Ry. They’re sick and counting on me. I’m letting them down.”
She looked at him for several moments, a puzzled frown on her face. “Despite what you might believe, life does go on. Even if you take the time to be sick.”
The pillow looked far too inviting, and he put his head on it. Just for a few minutes. “Life is different for doctors.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She went in the kitchen and brought his glass over, held it close enough for him to take a sip from the straw. After setting the glass on the coffee table and within his reach, she looked down. “I remember when you worked seven days a week. Rain or shine. Weekends or the middle of the night. When a patient needed something you were there. What I don’t remember is you ever getting sick. Has it occurred to you that maybe this is your body’s way of saying slow down? Take it easy. You can’t keep up that pace forever.”
She put a cool hand on his forehead and he closed his eyes to savor the blissful sensation. Beside him she moved and he felt her lips on his forehead again. Not a caress, he thought with regret, but to monitor his body temp. When he looked again she nodded approvingly.
“I think your fever is stabilizing.” She smiled. “But the thermometer will make the final determination.”
As far as he was concerned, her method of establishing his body temp was just fine by him. She could put her lips anywhere on him she wanted. And he really hoped that was just the flu talking. He wanted to get over what he felt for her just like he was going to shake the virus assaulting his body. But she wasn’t making it easy.
She’d been sweet to his surly. Cheerful to his crabby. Beauty to his beast.
No matter what he threw at her, she hung in with him. He didn’t want to want so badly for her to stay because he already knew how hard it was when she didn’t. But not wanting her was getting harder to pull off. She’d definitely done something better than patronizing him. She’d taken care of him.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had done that.
Everything was back to normal a little over a week after Ryleigh nursed Nick through the flu. Whatever normal was, Ryleigh thought. For the time being it was working at the hospital and occupying space in Nick’s house while waiting to have sex with him again.
But she’d occupied space in his house once before and he’d shut her out. This time she was seeing things in Nick that she’d probably been too immature and self-involved to notice before. She’d never seen him like he was with the flu, almost desperate to get to his patients—probably because this time he’d been too sick to hide it. He’d been willing to sacrifice his own welfare for them, as if something bad would happen if he wasn’t there. In her opinion, that was more than a doctor’s obligation. It was personal.
She also knew his stepbrother had died from cystic fibrosis and wondered if that was somehow connected. Nick had clearly loved him. When they were married, all she’d wanted was to have his love. Obviously he was capable of the emotion, but not capable of it with her.
The blinking computer cursor brought her back to the present and the work she still had to do. She was in her small, cluttered office on the hospital’s second floor. There was a desk with a couple of visitors’ chairs in front of it, the usual electronic equipment and pictures on the walls of healthy children laughing and playing. It was her job to raise money for programs that would keep children healthy, so they could continue to laugh and play.
Before she could dig in to the Children’s Medical Charities Fundraiser Gala and the loose ends that needed to be tied up, her cell phone vibrated. It was on the desk beside her computer and she picked it up. There was a text message from the online baby center. It was simple, basic and unemotional.
Your fertile time starts in three days.
“And that means there’s a five day window for conception,” she said, thinking out loud.
Of all the feelings it generated, at the top of the list was, It’s about darn time. She forwarded the message to Nick’s cell and grinned like a fool. It would be fun to see the look on his face when he read it, but she’d have to wait until she saw him at the house. Glancing at the watch on her wrist, she realized that would be soon because it was past six and she really should leave. Right after she cleared up some work.
Five minutes later there was a knock on her office door and when it opened, Nick poked his head in. “You’re not busy, ar
e you?”
She swiveled her chair to face him. “What are you doing here?”
“I was seeing patients here in the hospital when I got your message. Three days, huh? Today is Friday, so that means Monday?”
“Yeah. That was from my online fertility friends.”
“So I noticed.”
She leaned back in her chair, a casual pose belying the shimmer and shake inside her. That wolfishly predatory expression on his face should be declared hazardous to her heart.
“I feel like the Paul Revere of the technology age. Instead of the British, it was a warning that my eggs are coming.”
“Well, one hopes it’s not plural.” He moved farther into the room and rested a hip on the corner of her desk. “That could mean twins.”
“Yikes.”
“No kidding.” He folded his arms over his chest and looked down at her. “So, they must have a reason for giving you some lead time on this.”
“Yeah. But I’m not sure what it is. Any ideas?”
The gleam that stole into his eyes said he had a few sexy ones. “It’s probably about planning.”
“In what way?”
He lifted one broad shoulder. “I suppose it would be good to know if you were traveling.”
“Right.” She nodded; then a thought occurred to her. “Are you leaving town?”
“I wasn’t planning to. Unless you came with me.” One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Maybe an exotic getaway would increase the chances of success.”
She blinked up at him. That would require him to take time off, so this couldn’t possibly be the same man who fought tooth and nail to work when he could hardly stand. Clearly he was teasing her, but she could play the “what if” game to make him happy.
“Exotic.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “I suppose climbing Mount Kilimanjaro would make my eggs quiver with excitement.”
“What about Antarctica? Huddling together for warmth could be just the ticket.”
She shivered and it wasn’t just the idea of that level of cold. It was thoughts of pressing her body to his and how easily that would work to warm her. This was getting interesting.
To Have the Doctor's Baby Page 11
