To Have the Doctor's Baby (6 page)

But not lately. Having her around had been too nice, along with knowing he wasn't going home to an empty house. But when she left—and she would—he'd go through the alone process again and be fine. There was no doubt in his mind, because he'd gotten very good at keeping his
feelings under control. He never let himself stray past the point of no return.

“So what adjustments have you made?” Her voice, a low husky sound that was firmly in the sexy range, snapped him to attention.

“What?”

“You mentioned adjustments to the asthma clinic presentation. What are they?”

“Oh.” He needed to focus. “Now I make general remarks about what asthma is, things that trigger an episode and what to do if there is one.”

“All good information.”

“I think this clinic is in the McDonald meeting room.” He looked over and she nodded. “So there should be handouts and bullet points projected onto a screen so anyone who wants to can follow along. Then I see the kids and their parents individually, to answer one-on-one questions.”

“Okay.” She flipped the notepad closed, then put it in her purse.

“So you're crashing my party to do a report?”

She nodded. “CMC funds the project. It's my job to make sure the money is well spent. Since you're busier in the office, do you expect a good turnout for the clinic?”

“Yeah. This is traditionally a tough time of year for kids and adults with breathing problems. And the women's group does a good job of advertising the event.”

From Mercy Medical Center Parkway, he made a left turn into the parking lot, then found a space close to the front of the hospital. When they walked near enough to the entrance, the automatic double doors whispered open. Inside, their feet echoed on the marble tiles. Skylights above let lots of sunshine into the lobby. After turning to the left, they moved down the corridor until a tripod stand
with a placard announcing the asthma clinic told them this was the right place.

A young woman with dark hair sat behind a table just in front of the door. “Hi, Dr. Damian.”

“Good to see you, Laura.” He put his hand at Ryleigh's waist and resisted the urge to pull her closer to his side. “This is Ryleigh Evans. She's the regional coordinator for Children's Medical Charities.”

“It's nice to meet you.”

Ryleigh smiled. “Same here. You do good work.”

“We couldn't do what we do without the volunteers,” Nick explained. “It's Laura's responsibility to sign people in and make sure they fill out paperwork with basic medical information. Later the kids' test results will be put into the hospital computer system so that if they come in to the E.R., we have a starting point. That speeds up the treatment process.”

“Sounds like a terrific program,” Ryleigh commented.

“I think they're ready for you, Doctor,” Laura said.

In the large room, rows of folding chairs were set up on one side, while the other had three tables for one-on-one consultation. At each station there was a laptop computer staffed by a respiratory therapist to do spirometry. They had a child blow into the tube and it measured lung capacity, how much air was being moved in and out. If the residual volume of air in the lungs increased, it meant airways were obstructed. Other respiratory therapists were showing the kids how to get the best results from peak flow meters that each child could take home.

He looked down at Ryleigh. “I'm going to do my thing.”

“I'll just wander around and observe.”

Nick nodded, then walked over to the lecture area.
“Hello, thanks for coming today. I'm Doctor Nick Damian, a pediatric pulmonologist. I work with infants and children up to eighteen years old who have diagnosed lung diseases. But today we're focusing specifically on asthma.”

He'd given this talk so many times he could practically do it in his sleep. First there were pictures of a normal airway and one constricted, closing off air flow. Then he covered the most common asthma attack triggers—pollen, a cold or flu virus, exercise.

Finally he stressed the need to understand that there were excellent treatments and medications available and new, better ones coming on the market all the time. Years ago the best meds made patients shaky and caused the heart to race. These days therapy was much improved.

If Todd had lived, if he, Nick, hadn't screwed up and left him alone, there would be new therapies and drugs to prolong his life. CF patients were living longer now and where there was life, there was hope.

But Todd had neither and Nick would never forgive himself for that. All he could do now was be there for the patients who needed him. He wouldn't let anyone down again.

His gaze automatically found Ryleigh sitting in the back row. He felt the heavy weight of responsibility for the failure of their marriage and was doing everything he could to make it up to her. Did he still get absolution for that sin when he was enjoying the hell out of making love to her?

But that wasn't something to be asked or answered here. He looked at the concerned parents in front of him. “I'd be happy to take questions now.”

He spent the next ten minutes doing that, then announced that he would be evaluating the breath-screening
results. When he'd talked to everyone, easing fears, offering his informed medical opinion, he shook hands with the respiratory therapy volunteers. One of them was Harlow Marcelli, a green-eyed brunette he often saw in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.

“Great job today, Marcelli,” he said.

“Thanks, Doc.” She closed the laptop. “When are you going to dump this Saturday gig for a day on the golf course?”

“For one thing, and this is pretty important, I don't play golf.”

She laughed. “But you must have something better to do.”

The first thing that popped into his mind was Ryleigh. He liked hanging with her, but that wasn't for public consumption. “Not really.”

While he was chatting, Ryleigh came up behind him. Her perfume set his senses on stun.

“Nick?”

When he turned, he saw that she wasn't alone. She stood there with a young boy and a woman who was probably his mom.

“This is Marilyn and her son, David Negri.”

“Nice to meet you.” Nick shook their hands. “How did you hear about the clinic?”

The sandy-haired, blue-eyed kid looked intense. “There were flyers at school and I talked my mom into bringing me.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen. I'm in eighth grade.”

“Are you planning to go out for football next year?” he asked. “You're big enough.”

“I'd like to right now. There are leagues going on right now, but my mom won't let me.” The kid sent her a look
filled with teenage angst and testosterone-fueled hostility. “She's afraid my asthma will flare up.”

“For good reason.” The plump brunette in her late thirties looked anxiously up at the boy. “He talked me into letting him try soccer and ended up in the E.R. because he was having trouble breathing. Scared me to death. And he can't understand that it's something a parent never wants to go through again. Especially a single mom.”

“I understand,” Nick said. “But there are ways to manage the disease so that doesn't happen.”

“Like what?” she asked.

“Using appropriate medications before exercise. Possibly an inhaler.”

David frowned. “Isn't that the tube thing you suck on?” When Nick nodded, he said, “Do I have to?”

“If you want to play.” Nick had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“All my friends will make fun of me.”

“Then they're not really your friends. And if being responsible with your medications makes you a wimp, then join the club. There are a lot of pro athletes who are asthmatic. They do what's necessary in order to play the game they love.”

“What does the inhaler do?” his mother asked.

“It opens up the airways and prevents an attack. If one happens, there are rescue medications to keep it in check. My job is to help manage the disease and not just while David is a kid. It's about preventing permanent lung damage that can affect him when he's an adult.”

Marilyn didn't look convinced. “Do you have children, Doctor?”

“No.” He met Ryleigh's gaze and wondered what she was thinking.

“If you did,” the woman persisted, “and he or she was asthmatic, would you let him, or her, play sports?”

“I would.” He'd answered this question countless times before without any emotional connection to his answer. For him it was just the medical facts because he'd never been a parent. He looked at Ryleigh's flat stomach and realized she could be pregnant right now. It took effort, but he pulled himself back to the topic. “With the proper protocols in place there's no reason to eliminate exercise from a healthy lifestyle.”

“See, Mom?” the kid said. “You gotta let me sign up. If I don't, next year in high school everyone will know more than me. Besides, Eric's doing it.”

“If Eric jumped off the stratosphere would you follow?” Nick asked.

“I know what you're saying,” David told him. “And I don't want to play football just because he is. I just want to play. I've always wanted to, since I was a kid.”

Nick wanted to laugh, but held back. This kid was still a kid. “If it's what you want, you should go for it.” The boy started to pump his arm in celebration, but Nick held up a finger. “But you need to get a physical. Talk to your primary care doctor about it.”

“Do you have a card?” Marilyn asked him.

Nick hesitated. “I'm here to educate parents about asthma.”

The woman nodded. “You wouldn't be stealing a patient. I've been wanting to change doctors. David's pediatrician is a woman, Dr. Schwartz.”

“She's very good.”

“I agree. When he was a little boy. But now…” She looked up at the son who was taller then her.

Nick reached over to the table beside him and grabbed
a handout. “This information sheet has my office number at the top.”

“So you're going to let me play, Mom?” the kid asked hopefully.

“I think so.” She held up a finger in warning. “Providing you get Dr. Damian's approval.”

David smiled for the first time since walking up. “Thanks.”

“Don't thank me. You got the flyer at school and brought your mom here. You made it happen, pal.”

The kid beamed. “It would be cool if you came to a game.”

Nick didn't know what to say. Patients needed his medical skills, not his friendship. But there was something about this kid. It was a good feeling to be part of helping him achieve his dream.

“That would be cool,” he finally said.

Marilyn hesitated when her son walked over to the refreshment table for a cookie. She smiled at Ryleigh. “Thank you for introducing us.”

“I didn't do anything. It was just so obvious from what David said that he wanted to play.” Ryleigh shrugged. “It does my heart good to see him so happy.”

“Me, too.” She looked up at Nick and grinned. “You'll make a terrific father some day.”

Nick stared at Ryleigh's back as she walked away. She could be carrying his baby right now. That would, biologically speaking, make him a father. He'd known, intellectually, but the whole thing became more real somehow. Emotions kicked in, feelings a lot like wanting and needing. Yearning was there, too. He needed to sort them out and push them away.

If he didn't, there would be hell to pay.

I
t was Saturday night and Ryleigh was alone.

Until temporarily moving in with Nick she'd spent most Saturday nights alone, but tonight felt worse somehow. While fixing herself a salad she tried to fix the oh-poor-me mood. Maybe it had been triggered by the brooding look on Nick's face after the asthma clinic. He'd brought her home, then said he had some things to do. He'd been gone ever since and she couldn't help wondering. They weren't married; she had no claim on his time. Except…

He'd gone quiet and intense right after that grateful mom had said he would be a good father. The thing is, the woman was right. Ryleigh had always felt the same way, but he hadn't loved her enough to make the effort. His guilt over that was the only reason he'd agreed to try and give her a baby now, but he would keep himself distant. That made her sad and she needed to get over it. Nick Damian
hadn't changed. He was still the same man who'd swept her off her feet, then disappeared.

“Not unlike today,” she said to herself.

After chopping salad, tomato, avocado and cucumber with a little more enthusiasm than was probably necessary, she cut up a cooked chicken breast and mixed oil and vinegar into everything. Then she sat at the island with the bowl and looked at the real estate section of the newspaper, spreading the pages out in front of her. The front door opened and closed, prompting her pulse to pound and her heart to hammer. She was really annoyed that he could make that happen just by walking in the damn house.

She figured he'd appear in the kitchen any second and she was right. Annoyance was no defense against his dark, wavy hair, deep blue eyes and the sexy scruff on his jaw. Her pulse and heart continued to do their own thing despite the animosity she waved around to keep them in line.

“Hi.” Nick walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He looked tired.

Not her problem. Yet that didn't stop her from wanting to know where he'd been, what he'd been doing. Except it was a need-to-know basis and his comings and goings weren't something she needed to know.

“Hi.” She finished chewing a bite of salad. “If I'd known you'd be here for dinner, I'd have made a bigger salad.”

After a long drink from the water bottle, he looked at her. “I already ate.”

“Good.” She didn't need to feel guilty for just thinking about herself. It wasn't one of her finest qualities but had definitely been on overdrive during her marriage. She was working on the flaw. “So, the asthma clinic had a really good turnout.”

“Yeah.”

“It seems like the kind of project Children's Medical Charities needs to continue funding.”

“Good to know.”

“With another doctor, we could open it up to more people. Do you think Dr. Gallagher would be interested in helping out?”

“He may not be around.”

She hadn't gotten much out of him in the car afterward, and it appeared that wasn't going to change. “Then I'll look into getting someone else.”

“What are you reading?” He leaned his forearms on the island's granite countertop and angled his jaw toward the newspaper spread in front of her.

She didn't miss that he'd abruptly changed the subject, but let it go. “Real estate section.”

“Ah.”

“I was wondering if you remember the name of the agent we used to buy this house.” Ryleigh had really connected with the woman who had picked out properties for them to look at that were all wonderful. “I really liked her.”

“Her card is in my desk. Are you thinking about looking for something?”

Her mouth was full of salad and chicken, preventing her from instantly answering. That gave her a chance to study his expression. For all the good it did. She couldn't tell if the intensity spike was disapproval or residual brooding.

After swallowing, she said, “I'm thinking about getting a place of my own. The apartment is pretty awful and I can't stay here indefinitely. I need a house, either to rent or buy.”

“Buy,” he said. “Definitely.”

She poked a cucumber with her fork. “Why definitely?”

“It's a tax write-off and renting makes you vulnerable to the landlord/owner. If the place is sold out from under you, moving could be inconvenient.” He thought for a moment. “Also, you don't know whether or not the mortgage gets paid. If it doesn't, and is foreclosed, you could be out a lot of money.”

“How so?”

“When you rent, up-front money is usually first and last month and security deposit. Chances are if they're behind on payments, you could be evicted by the bank and the owner has no money to reimburse you for anything.”

“Good point. I didn't think about that.”

“Times are tough. It's happening a lot here right now.”

“How sad to think about people losing their homes.”

“Yeah. There are things you can do to protect yourself, but buying outright puts all the control in your hands.” He twisted the white cap back onto the water bottle. “There may be first-time buyer incentives from mortgage companies. And interest rates are really low right now. Also there's a lot of inventory. It's unquestionably a buyer's market. I can help if you need the down payment—”

“No.” She wouldn't take anything from him now any more than she did when they divorced. At the time it hadn't felt right and eventually she'd realized half the blame belonged to her, so why should he pay? Besides, money couldn't buy happiness. “I have it.”

“Good.”

“I'm convinced. Being a homeowner is the way for me to go.” She tilted her head. “I think you missed your calling, Nick.”

He walked around the island, dropping his empty plastic water bottle in the recycle trash. When he took the stool beside hers, the masculine smell of his skin wrapped
around her. Her stomach did that funny little slip and slide, making her want to snuggle against him. But that wasn't part of their bargain.

The only reason for physical contact was to make a baby and her fertility window had closed. Soon she would do a pregnancy test, to find out if there
was
a baby. Until then, except for the fact that she really liked it, there was no reason to be in his arms.

“Missed my calling?” he asked.

“Maybe you should have gone into real estate. Buying and selling property seems up your alley—no pun intended.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Not for me. Too much pressure.”

“And helping a child who's having difficulty breathing isn't full of stress?”

“That's different.”

“What makes it different?” When he stared at her, she added, “Although I think you'd be successful at anything you tried, you've really got a flair for the medical profession.”

“What makes you say that?”

“For one thing, you're a legend at Mercy Medical Center.” She remembered their first face-to-face meeting in her office after she'd started her job. It wasn't easy to meet a legend on his turf.

“Legend?” One corner of his mouth quirked up as a teasing look slid into his eyes. “That really makes me feel old. I don't think I've reached the minimum age requirement for legend status.”

“That condition is waived when everyone talks about you in reverent whispers and awed tones.”

“Oh, please—”

“Seriously,” she protested. “When I was going through
the interview process for my job, the board of directors spoke about you as if you had wings, a halo and walked on water. And before you ask, that doesn't mean I'll authorize the necessary funds for ECMO.”

“When they interviewed you, did the powers that be know we were divorced?” he asked wryly.

“I figured it was best to keep that to myself.”

He nodded proudly. “Smart.”

“Takes one to know one. But there's more to being a good doctor than brains.” She'd seen him today with the kids. His dedication was as vivid as his blue eyes. He truly cared about their health. It was more than dealing with one medical crisis after another. Their whole lives and the quality of them was important to him. “So, why did you become a doctor, instead of, say, a real estate agent?”

He shrugged. “I'm good in science and math. Seemed like a good fit.”

“With those skills you could have gone into teaching. Engineering. Almost anything. But you didn't. It's more than that.”

“It's just a job.”

She'd heard all this before and let him get away without answering the question. Not this time. “To do what you do is a special calling, separate from the other qualifications you have. I'd really like to know what made you want to be a doctor, Nick. And before you come up with something witty to distract me, you should know that it's not going to work. I'm prepared to sit here until I get what I want.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She pushed her empty salad bowl away, then folded her arms over her chest and gave him her very best I-can-wear-you-down look.

It took several moments for him to surrender, but finally he nodded. “You know I had a stepbrother.”

“Yes. Todd.”

“Yeah.” The dark, brooding expression was back. “We were complete opposites. He was sickly, I was an athlete. All we had in common was that neither of us was very happy about our folks getting married.”

“But?” she pushed.

“Somehow we bonded. Probably because of a shared hostility toward the parents. He was funny and smart. He called me on my crap and became the little brother I'd never had.”

“You still miss him.” Ryleigh wasn't asking. His eyes said it all. “How did he die?”

“Todd had cystic fibrosis.”

“Obviously I've heard of it, but I don't know much about the disease,” she said.

“Most patients are diagnosed by age two. It's caused by a defective gene and its protein product causes the body to produce unusually thick, sticky mucus. It clogs the lungs and leads to life-threatening infections. Todd's life expectancy was always a question mark, but no one figured he would die so young. In the last twenty years, therapies and medications have prolonged patient's lives by years—possibly indefinitely. If he'd survived, there's no telling…”

She'd known his brother died, but Nick would never talk about what happened. Now she knew, but Nick was still holding back. The dark intensity on his face was a giveaway.

Without consciously intending to, she reached over and put her hand on his. She could almost feel how much he wanted to turn it over, palm up, and swallow her fingers in his. “What is it, Nick? There's more, isn't there? Talk to me.”

He shook his head, then stood up and backed away,
letting her hand fall to the cold granite. “I'll get you that real estate agent's card.”

Before she could stop him, he was gone. She tried not to take it personally. After all, their deal was to check anything personal at the door, but she couldn't quite manage it. Maybe tomorrow.

Right now Nick was her friend and she felt for his pain, wanted to do something to help. She remembered the way parents had looked at him, as if he were a god with all the answers. But he was just a man, a smart and handsome one without a doubt. Still, he had flaws and frailties just like everyone else.

And the worst part of realizing that was it made her like him even more.

 

The next day Nick followed Ryleigh through a house for sale while the real estate agent waited outside. Some of the things they'd liked about Shelley Peck were her efficiency and sensitivity. She showed them around, pointed out the pros and cons, then disappeared to let them discuss the pros and cons amongst themselves.

He glanced out the living room window and saw the agent in her Lexus SUV. “I was a little surprised you made an appointment to look at houses today. Seems kind of fast.”

“Someone cancelled an appointment with Shelley, so I took it.” Ryleigh glanced at the room's twelve-foot ceiling and crown molding.

“That's not what I meant. I just didn't think you were in such a rush.”

“And whose fault is that?” The glance she slid him was full of irony. “Your financial logic was flawless. There's no reason to wait. Might as well buy something. Get out of your hair. Get settled. In case…”

In case she was pregnant. Thinking about her pregnant made him remember trying to get her that way. That made him want her now which seemed weird. Although anything and nothing made him want her—anytime, anywhere. He pushed the feeling away. No point in borrowing another complication when he had so many to choose from already.

“What do you think of this house?” she asked.

The two-story was about twenty-six hundred square feet with four bedrooms and three baths. Lots of granite in the kitchen, wood floors. It was functional and charming.

“There's no security system,” he pointed out.

“Not a deal breaker.”

“It is in my opinion.” Because he felt protective of her. Always had and probably always would.

“It's pre-wired for a system and I could have one installed. If I loved everything about the place.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“I'm not sure. Although the high ceilings are nice and that molding is wonderful.”

Nick glanced up. “Too high. That will make the place harder to heat and air condition. The energy bills will be, pardon the pun, through the roof.”

Her merry laugh burrowed inside him and brightened the dark corners of his soul. “That's a good point. Let's go see the next one.”

They left the house and Shelley took care of putting the key back in the lock box. She looked to be somewhere in her forties, a trim, blue-eyed blonde with shoulder-length hair.

She got in the driver's seat and glanced at Ryleigh beside her in the front, then back at him. “What did you think?”

“It's nice,” Ryleigh said. “But I didn't love it.”