Dr. Mommy. Elizabeth Bevarly

been since they’d split up after college that Nick had seemed to become so…awesome.

      Again she remembered their last encounter—what an awkward situation that had been. They’d bumped into each other at a wedding, of all places. And it had just been too painful a reminder of the way she’d turned down his proposal of marriage all those years ago.

      He seemed to be thinking about those times, too, she noted, because his dark eyes were wary, his posture stiff and his mouth—that incredibly sexy, wholly masculine mouth—was turned down in a frown. Which was just as well, really. Because she recalled all too well just how positively breathtaking Nick Campisano could be when he smiled. Nick’s smile…

      She couldn’t quite bite back a sigh at the memories that washed over her in a warm, wonderful wave. Nick’s smile had always made everything in the world seem all right. It had also always brought her to her knees.

      “Claire,” he said carefully by way of a greeting, his voice reflecting no emotion whatsoever.

      In spite of that, Claire nearly melted as quickly as the snow that was pooling around his big hiking boots. Oh, wow, she thought. Just the sound of her name uttered in his soft, velvety voice made the hairs at the back of her neck leap to life. Anything else he said, she could tell already, would rouse the rest of her body parts just as thoroughly, just as quickly.

      “Nick,” she managed to reply, albeit cautiously. But she was inordinately proud of herself for being able to voice even that one word without revealing the tumult of conflicting emotions that were warring inside her, just below the surface.

      However, neither of them seemed to know what to say beyond those two single-syllable acknowledgments.

      The baby, however, seemed to have a very good idea what to add. Although she had temporarily ceased her wailing when Nick had entered the foyer, the infant burst into tears again at the awkward, tension-filled silence that ensued. The reaction was completely appropriate, as far as Claire was concerned. She was beginning to feel like crying herself.

      Automatically—though none too easily—she began to bounce the baby in her arms, but the gesture did nothing to soothe the poor thing’s anxiety. On the contrary, the infant seemed to become even more agitated with Claire’s attempt to comfort, and her wailing elevated to a full-blown screeching.

      “Not like that,” Nick said, unzipping his coat. Then he reached for the baby as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

      Eagerly Claire released the infant to his care, and he settled it easily against the soft cotton sweater covering his chest. He splayed one big hand open over the baby’s back—nearly covering it—then rubbed his palm in a leisurely circle, rocking his entire body back and forth with a slow, gentle rhythm. Almost immediately, the baby’s crying eased up, then gradually diminished until she hiccuped with a soft sigh and stopped entirely.

      “Shhh,” Nick said quietly, never altering his motions. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Nobody here is going to hurt you. You’re just fine. Shhh…”

      Even though she knew the reassurance was meant for the baby, somehow it went a long way toward making Claire feel better, too. “Thanks,” she said. But whether her gratitude was for his calming the child’s fears or her own, she couldn’t rightly say.

      Although Nick continued to croon soothing, comforting words to the baby, his gaze never wavered from hers, and a million accusations seemed to burn in the dark espresso depths of his eyes. She wished she could think of something to say that might make the situation a little more bearable. But for the life of her she couldn’t even think of some meaningless platitude to utter.

      For another long moment, the two of them only continued to stare at each other without speaking. Nick mumbled softly to the baby, and Claire stood uncomfortably with her arms crossed over her midsection, watching them. Watching the way his big body formed a protective shelter for the tiny life he held so carefully in his embrace. Watching the way his entire face seemed to soften and grow warm with the action of cuddling an infant. Watching how effortlessly, how naturally, he performed the action.

      Eventually the sight of Nick and the baby grew too difficult for Claire to witness, so she turned around and left the foyer behind, making her way into the living room instead.

      And she tried very hard not to think about the fact that, if things had turned out differently, she might very well be married to Nick right now. And the baby he cradled in his arms might very well be theirs.

      Stop it, Claire, she admonished herself immediately. Things hadn’t turned out differently. They hadn’t gotten married, and that wasn’t their baby in Nick’s arms. She’d made her choices a long time ago, and now she had to live with them. Just because things hadn’t exactly worked out the way she had thought they would, well… That was no reason to dwell on regrets and what-ifs.

      Even if she and Nick had married back then, there was no guarantee they’d still be married today. Claire knew she wouldn’t have been happy with the kind of life he had envisioned for them. And her unhappiness would have doubtless flowed over onto him. It was very likely that, by now, they both would have been miserable. They might not even be together anymore.

      Thankfully her thoughts were interrupted when Nick followed her into the living room with the now-silent baby. When he strode past her, she saw that the infant had fallen asleep. Very carefully he bent to return the baby to its basket, then moved it to the floor in front of the couch. For a moment, he only watched the infant sleep, her little mouth working over a bottle that only existed in her dreams. Claire smiled warmly at the sight. Then Nick stood up and turned to face her, and her smile immediately vanished.

      Without speaking, he tilted his head toward the other side of the room, where they could talk without fear of waking the baby. Claire preceded him in that direction, stopping by the fireplace, where, surprisingly, a few warm embers still glowed from the fire she had enjoyed earlier that evening.

      He hadn’t removed his big parka, but unzipping it had revealed beneath it a baggy, tobacco-colored sweater and well-worn jeans. Without even looking to see what he was doing, he withdrew a small notebook and ballpoint pen from the inside pocket, all the while gazing at her with bland expectation. The accusation that had darkened his eyes earlier was gone now, and his posture was no longer hostile. In many ways, it seemed to Claire that he had turned into a total stranger.

      “So you want to tell me how all this came about?” he asked as he clicked the pen, the very picture of efficiency. Somehow, though, when he voiced the question, he seemed to be talking about a whole lot more than the baby who had just shown up on her doorstep.

      Well, gosh, Nick, it’s like this, Claire thought. You wanted something totally different from what I wanted, and you never once stopped to ask me about my dreams and my desires. You could only think about your own, and you assumed I’d just go merrily along. That’s how all this came about.

      She pushed the thought away before the words could spill out of her mouth and into the open, ensuring what would undoubtedly become an ugly scene. Instead, she scrunched up her shoulders restlessly and let them fall, sighed fitfully, then ran an unsteady hand through her hair. “I was in bed when I heard the doorbell ring just before midnight,” she began.

      “Alone?” he demanded.

      She couldn’t quite help the incredulous little sound that escaped her. “Do you see anybody else here?” she countered.

      “No,” he conceded. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re here alone.”

      “I’m alone,” she muttered. Then, just because she felt spiteful, she added, “Tonight I am, anyway.”

      The verbal dart must have struck its target perfectly, because Nick’s frown returned, and his eyes darkened angrily again. “Fine,” he bit off. “You were alone in bed and heard the doorbell just before midnight. You sure about the time?”

      She nodded. “Dick Clark had just updated me to the situation in Times Square,” she said.

      “Then