I woke up for my early morning shift feeling hung over. The worst kind of injustice is doing nothing to deserve a hangover and waking up feeling like you have a hangover.

Still yawning by the time I walked into the hospital, I noted that the ibuprofen I took for my headache seemed to be working. I allowed myself a moment of optimistic contemplation-Monday could only be an improvement over Sunday.

I was so distracted by my bad dreams and trying to figure out a way to get Nico's security team replaced, as well as the unfairness of my undeserved hangover, that I didn't notice the buzzing of my pager. It vibrated off the shelf of my locker while I was pulling on a freshly laundered lab coat over faded teal scrubs.

As I retrieved it from the floor I felt a twinge of disappointment; the day was already starting with a hectic bang, and my shift hadn't technically started yet. I'd arrived to work early. I wanted to spend a few minutes drinking coffee and eating a doughnut. Instead, now abandoning my plan for ten minutes of peace, I gathered a deep breath and glanced at the message.

CRU rm 410 asap; VIP peds ready cg1605 cf iv I stared at the message.

Oh shit.

Roughly translated, the message meant: please come to the Clinical Research Unit, room number 410 as soon as possible. The VIP pediatric patient is ready to enroll on clinical trial, protocol number 1605, cystic fibrosis infusion study.

I stared unseeingly at the empty contents of my locker. My mind was in a blank panic. A moment later the original message was followed by a second message consisting of just six exclamation points, as follows: !!!!!!

I was being paged to the Clinical Research Unit.

Nico had returned with his niece.

They'd decided to enroll on the study.

Chapter 12.

The weight of dread heavy on my shoulders, I moved in slow motion to the clinic room. The thought of seeing Nico, knowing that all admiration in his beautiful green eyes would undoubtedly be replaced with disgust or pity or some combination of the two, filled me with despair.

Granted, I acknowledged that my reaction made no sense. I'd basked in Nico's admiration for an extremely short period of time, less than twenty-four hours, a total of three encounters. But I couldn't help misery any more than I could stop fantasizing about him.

Even if I'd been the type of person who believed falling in love more than once in a lifetime wasn't a crazy stupid thing to do, Nico wasn't interested anymore. He also wasn't my type.

He was hot like lava and sexy like cake. Wait . . .Like lava cake. Yum.

He was annoyingly witty and intelligent.

He was thoughtful and kind to his family.

He was too likeable, too charismatic.

. . . okay, he was my type. Damn it.

But, I reminded myself, he was also the Nico Manganiello who made my childhood hell and- I paused, actually stopped walking, and was struck by the complete lack of anger I felt toward him now. Yes, the memories still chaffed; yes, his actions years ago were still hurtful to think about.

However, Nico's apology, my own mistakes and regrets, and relief from finally knowing the reason why I was harassed, all mixed together to produce a mysterious mystical forgiveness, as follows: [Nico's Heartfelt Apology x (My Mistakes + My Regrets)] + Reason Why = Magical Forgiveness I leaned against the wall and searched my mental grudge inventory. His name was missing. I was no longer angry at Nico.

"Huh," I said to the empty hall. . . weird.

Haltingly, I continued down the corridor to the CRU, trying to find some reason to dislike him. It took me seven steps to remember that he was a comedian who made his living trying to get celebrities naked on television. I used this as fuel and allowed myself to get worked up.

He was frequently naked on his show; there were mostly nude women parading around and giggling for god's sake-giggling, half-naked women. How could I ever respect someone who thought that was okay? How could I respect myself if I condoned it?

It doesn't matter anyway. He's never going to be interested in you now so stop confusing yourself, weirdo.

When I rounded the corner to the Clinical Research Unit nurses' station, I was so lost in my internal nonsensical struggle that I didn't immediately see Dr. Botstein and Nico huddled together by the door to room 410 or Meg hovering in front of the nurses' counter.

I was nearly upon them when Dr. Botstein's voice pulled me from my musings, causing me to stumble over my own feet. "Ah. Here she is."

I looked from Nico to Dr. Botstein-who was smiling. It was freakish, bizarre to see Dr. Botstein smile. It made me immensely uncomfortable so I opted to look at Nico instead.

"I-"

I was unprepared, and I met his stare directly. Where I had predicted a pang of sad embarrassment, I was met with a shock of hot awareness. Nico wasn't looking at me with pity or disgust. His gaze held mine hostage, and he was eye-twinkling like a champ.

I'd been gaze-hijacked.

"I-" I attempted to speak again.

Then he smirked, his lids lowering to half-mast. Twinkling, hot-lava, sexy cake, sex-on-a-stick, obscene levels of charisma.

Freaking Nico.

I sighed. It was a weak-woman sigh. It was the sigh of a female helpless and ensnared by the hypnotic gaze of the guy she fantasizes about.

I'd never been so happy to hear the sound of Dr. Botstein's voice; it was a hard sharp slap to my cranium. "Dr. Finney, I believe you are acquainted with Mr. Moretti?"

"Hello Elizabeth." Nico nodded his head once in my direction.

"Ni-I mean, Mr. Moretti. Good to see you."

Nico smiled at me, caught his bottom lip between his teeth. My breath hitched, stomach flipped at the simple action. His effortless and playful sexiness was mind muddlingly maddening.

"I think it's okay for you to call me Nico. Dr. Botstein is aware of our relationship."

"Our-?"

"Yes, well, Mr. Moretti already explained the nature of everything." Dr. Botstein returned his attention to Nico. At this point Meg crossed to stand next to me and nudged me with her elbow. I ignored her as Dr. Botstein continued. "We're just pleased that you've decided to enroll your niece in our clinical trial."

"You have?" I was surprised.

Most of Nico's nimble playfulness waned with a shift in the conversation to serious matters; his expression turned sober. "Yes. My mother and I called Dr. Botstein last week and talked through our questions."

"You did?" I asked.

Meg nudged me again with her elbow. Again I ignored her.

"Yes, Dr. Finney." Dr. Botstein said, exhaling his impatience. "I saw no reason to discuss the matter with you as I wasn't aware that you knew the family. And, besides, your research rotation was set to end tomorrow. Obviously, it will be extended."

"It will?" A troubling thought immediately arrested my attention; I was worried that the decision to enroll Angelica in the clinical trial had something to do with me. Or rather, more precisely, had something to do with Nico and me.

"Yes. Obviously," Dr. Botstein said.

Meg elbowed me again, this time with a great deal of force. I turned slightly to give her the stink eye but, before I could, I found her glaring at me with unfettered displeasure. She was giving me the stink eye.

Hag.

Dr. Botstein continued. "And, obviously, everything will be done under my strict supervision. I have complete faith in Dr. Finney, of course, but as I explained last week, the infusion schedule is rigorous. Since you've opted out of an admission to the CRU, bringing little Angelica back to the hospital every eight hours for the next twenty-eight days requires a great deal of dedication."

Nico nodded. "We understand."

"Wait." I pulled my attention from Meg's continuing death stare. "I don't understand, why is my research rotation being extended?"

"Because, Mr. Moretti and his mother requested that you treat the patient during the study period," Meg finally spoke, her voice false and chipper, and she continued to glare at me. "But don't worry. My research rotation will start as normal and the research nurses will conduct the other patient visits as usual. I just won't be taking care of Angelica-seeing as you are such good friends with the family."

I stared at her, my eyebrows meeting my hairline. "I'm going to do what?"

Dr. Botstein shifted, pulled his pager from where it had been clipped on his scrubs. "Excuse me." He glanced at the screen and tsked. "It looks like I'll need to get this. Thanks so much for coming in today. Dr. Finney will get Angelica started on the paperwork and screening tests, all very run of the mill. Please call me-day or night-with any questions. I'm here to help."

"Thank you. We appreciate everything," Nico said as the two men shook hands.

With a curt head bob in my direction that seemed to convey both annoyance and respect, Dr. Botstein turned and stalked away from us. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and barked orders to some faceless person on the other end.

My eyes locked again with Nico's, and I noticed that I was holding my breath, waiting for something. Silence stretched. Nothing happened. Well, nothing happened not counting the unwavering intensity of his gaze, my resulting increase in heart rate, and our lengthy staring contest.

Someone cleared their throat very loudly, and I turned toward the sound. The clinical research nurses were sitting behind the nurses' station, pretending to do work but obviously eavesdropping on the entire conversation. They both peered at me with Cheshire grins. I glanced at my feet, attempted to gather my wits.

I sensed that Meg was about to nudge me again with her sharp elbow so I sidestepped the movement and advanced on Nico. I felt an acute need to speak with him alone. Despite his and Dr. Botstein's assurances, I wanted to make sure Rose and Nico had made a fully informed decision about Angelica's treatment.

And, if I were being completely honest, I also just wanted to be alone with him-preferably in some enclosed space where I could smell him.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" My eyes shifted to the clinic room, where Rose and Angelica were visible through the open door; I gave the pair a small smile of greeting then returned my attention to Nico and added, "Privately?"

"Sure." He didn't frown, but he didn't smile either. However, his eyes dropped to my mouth and lingered there.

"Okay-here." I grabbed his hand. "Come with me." I pulled Nico, not stopping to consider why I decided to hold his hand when a simple gesture to follow would have sufficed. It wasn't because I desired contact with him, loved the shock of awareness that spread through me where we connected, craved it like a drug addict in need of a dopamine fix. . . nope. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

I led him to a vacant infusion room down the hall. I pushed him inside. I ignored the curious glances from Meg and the nurses as I shut the door.

Gathering a steadying breath I turned to face him, prepared to interrogate Nico about his reasons for moving forward with the research study. Instead I found him just behind me, less than three feet away, and his proximity rendered me stupid.

I could smell him. He smelled quite good. Therefore, when I met his gaze I could only manage to breathe out the word, "Hi."

"Hi," He said. He was leaning against the wall with one shoulder, outwardly relaxed and wholly at ease.

Curses!

And he was looking at me funny.

Not angry or disappointed. Not worshipful either.

He looked interested. Like I was something new and curious. Like he was readying himself for something amusing as well as potentially important.

As usual, the intensity of his focused attention made me feel unbearably self-conscious; my lashes fluttered under the weight of it. "What? What is it?"

Nico shrugged. The shrug did little to decrease the concentrated sharpness of his funny look; "You tell me. You're the one who wanted to talk privately."

It might have been my imagination, but the room felt abruptly smaller after the word privately passed his perfectly formed mouth.

"Oh. Yes. Well." I cleared my throat and tried to mirror his relaxed posture, resting my shoulder against the wall and crossing my arms. "There are actually a few things I'm hoping we can discuss, starting with your decision to enroll Angelica into the study."

Mild amusement abruptly transformed into somber concern; he frowned, tensed, his posture less relaxed. "Is there something we should know about the study? Is it dangerous? Do you think we made the wrong decision?"

"No. Nothing like that. I just want to make sure you're making the decision for the right reasons. You shouldn't feel pressured or swayed by any factor other than what you think is right for Angelica."

He nodded solemnly; "Dr. Botstein didn't try to sway us one way or the other. He just laid out the facts. We all talked about it this last weekend."

"Who is we all?"

"Everyone. Well, everyone you saw on Saturday. It was a family decision. We just want Angelica to get better. You saw how she was as the restaurant, sitting on Christine's lap watching all the other cousins play. She's not-" He glanced at the ceiling. "I just want things to be better for her."

I studied him and my chest hurt a little. He appeared every inch like a tortured parent, and his vulnerability was heart breaking. A need to protect him welled up within me. I didn't like seeing him so upset, feeling helpless.

"Why are you here?" I posed the question; it seemed unfair that he should be shouldering this burden for his family.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you here instead of your sister Christine or your oldest brother Robert? How can you take so much time off from your show? From your life in New York?"

He considered me for a moment, his posture relaxed once again as he leaned against the wall; although the tightness in his features indicated that the topic was difficult for him to discuss; "Tina and I were close and I'm Angelica's Godfather. She left my mom custody but I think Angelica needs a male role model too, a father figure."

"But Robert, Manny, they all live in town and already have kids, know how to be a father. Wouldn't it make more sense for them to be here?"

"No." The corners of his mouth tugged downward, and the muscles at his temples ticked. Nico's typical charismatic energy felt muted, restrained, and he looked like such a grownup. I was struck by how adult-like he seemed-responsible, trustworthy, thoughtful, careful; everything about him screamed, "I have my shit together."

"But you're missing so much work and that can't be good for your career not to mention the upheaval to your personal life."

"Those things don't matter."

"But the burden-"

"I love her, Elizabeth. I want to be here. She is not a burden, she is my family and I love her." The rising heat behind his words and flashing of his eyes demanded that I drop my questioning.

My gaze slid to the infusion chair in the corner, mostly to avoid his. "Okay," I sighed, feeling repentant for pushing him, but still frustrated by my helplessness to ease his burden. "I'm just trying to understand you better."