Starting Now by Debbie Macomber

about it; at least she hoped she hadn’t.
    Libby willingly admitted he was easy on the eyes, but that didn’t mean she was interested in him as anything more than a diversion. He’d seemed likable enough. Until now, that is.
    Watching the other men, Libby could tell some were there to amaze everyone else with how many pounds they could lift. They weren’t even subtle about it. Libby hadn’t caught the doctor glancing at himself in the mirror, nor did he appear to be a show-off. He was there to work out, just as she was. Nevertheless he’d been cute enough to attract her attention.
    Now that they’d met, she’d look elsewhere.
    “Hello, girls,” said the woman at the nurses’ station. “Lydia phoned to tell me you were on your way.”
    “Sharon Jennings?” Libby asked.
    “That’s me.” Sharon was a middle-aged woman, dressed in a flowered smock and white pants. Her smile was ready and warm. “I see you met Dr. Stone.”
    “What’s his problem?” Libby asked, unable to hold back the question.
    “We call him Heart of Stone around here,” Sharon said, laughing.
    “I can see why,” Libby muttered. “He’s about as friendly as a rattlesnake.”
    “But he’s cute,” Casey countered, eager to defend the physician.
    “Yup. Real cute,” Sharon concurred. “And a great doctor.”
    “Why do you call him Heart of Stone?” Casey asked.
    Frankly, Libby was curious to know herself. Clearly he wasn’t the warmest person, but it sounded like there was more to it than that.
    “He breaks hearts. Plenty of women who work here have set their sights on Dr. Stone, but he isn’t interested. I suspect he had a bad experience with someone and avoids hospital relationships.”
    Apparently, he was looking to avoid relationships altogether, if his reaction to her was typical. The nerve of the man. Rarely had Libby taken a dislike to anyone the way she had old Heart of Stone. From the look of it, the feeling had been mutual.
    “We brought you more hats,” Casey said.
    “That’s wonderful.” Sharon took the two plastic bags and set them behind the counter.
    “I’m Libby Morgan.”
    “Glad to meet you, Libby.”
    “Can we look at the babies?” Ava asked.
    “Of course.” Sharon led them to the window that overlooked the nursery. “The newborns are here but the preemies are in a separate section.”
    The babies were lined up in neat rows in small cribs with the surnames posted on the headboards. Each one was swaddled in a blanket of either pink or blue.
    “They’re so cute,” Casey said, staring at them through the window.
    “That one is crying,” Ava said, pointing to the baby with the name Wilcox printed above his head. “Shouldn’t someone see what’s wrong?”
    “Crying is good for their lungs,” Sharon explained. “But we’re also short-staffed. We rely on volunteers to come in and rock the babies.”
    “Could I volunteer?” Casey asked. “I love babies.”
    “Sorry, sweetie, you have to be over twenty-one.”
    Libby noticed the rocking chair in the corner.
    Sharon must have followed her gaze because she looked at Libby and said pointedly, “Like I said, we could use a few more volunteers.”
    “Don’t look at me,” Libby said, pressing her hand over her chest. “I don’t know a thing about babies.”
    “You don’t need to,” Sharon insisted. “All that’s required is to hold the baby and rock. You’d be amazed how comforting it is. I swear the rockers get as much out of it as the rockees.”
    Comforting? Babies? Libby had given up her marriage because she’d insisted on delaying having children until her career was at the right point. Seeing these newborns stirred awake a long-buried desire. She couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if she’d given in and had Joe’s baby. Well, it was a moot point now. Still, the thought lingered.
    “You might consider volunteering,” Sharon urged softly.
    The most astonishing thing happened to Libby—her breath caught in