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
