Naomi stared down at the white test strip, hardly able to believe what she was seeing.

She blinked, several times, but this wasn’t a dream. No matter how long she gazed at the test strip, the red plus sign remained clear as day.

Stunned, she tried to wrap her mind around the news. How could this have happened? Their protection had only failed once. The timing hadn’t been right. And even if the timing had been right, her doctor had explained about the scar tissue and how it would impact her ability of getting pregnant.

With all the strikes against her, how could she have gotten pregnant at the wrong time?

She swallowed hard, putting a hand to her stomach. The overwhelming exhaustion. The never-ending nausea. The constant going to the bathroom.

Everything made sense now.

This baby was a miracle. Despite her upset stomach, she grinned like a fool. A true miracle. The thrill of excitement faded.

Rick. How on earth was she going to tell him?

Her knees gave out and she sat down, feeling dizzy. After the way they’d parted in Chicago, she didn’t think he’d take the news well. He wasn’t ready to think about the future. He wasn’t ready for a family.

Laura Iding loved reading as a child, and when she ran out of books she readily made up her own, completing a little detective mini-series when she was twelve. But, despite her aspirations for being an author, her parents insisted she look into a ‘real’ career. So the summer after she turned thirteen she volunteered as a Candy Striper, and fell in love with nursing. Now, after twenty years of experience in trauma/critical care, she’s thrilled to combine her career and her hobby into one—writing Medical™ Romances for Mills & Boon®. Laura lives in the northern part of the United States, and spends all her spare time with her two teenage kids (help!)—a daughter and a son—and her husband. Enjoy!

Recent titles by the same author:

THE FIREFIGHTER AND THE SINGLE MUM

BABY: FOUND AT CHRISTMAS

BRIDE FOR A SINGLE DAD

HIS PREGNANT NURSE

THE DOCTOR’S CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL

THE SURGEON’S SECRET BABY WISH

BY

LAURA IDING

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to my sister-in-law Sarah Iding, because she loves babies.

CHAPTER ONE

HE WOULD be the perfect man to father her baby.

Dr Rick Weber was tall, had brilliant blue eyes, thick chestnut-colored hair and a lean, muscular build. Just looking at him made her mouth go dry. His gaze collided with hers and the air crackled with tension for countless seconds when their eyes locked. He was the first to look away and it took a moment for her to resume breathing.

Shaken, she stared at him. He would have been perfect. Except for one tiny problem.

Rick Weber happened to be the new chief of pediatric trauma surgery.

And her new boss.

Dr Naomi Horton pulled herself together, hoping her moment of insane unprofessionalism wasn’t evident on her features. What was wrong with her?

She straightened in her seat, all too aware that she was one of only two female pediatric trauma surgeons in the conference room, and Debra Maloney didn’t count as she was happily married. Naomi didn’t think it was likely that any of the other four trauma surgeons would be drooling over their new boss.

“Good morning. Thanks for coming in on such short notice.” Rick appeared calm and relaxed as he addressed the group. If he was intimidated by his new position, leading a group of peds trauma surgeons, some of whom had been at the job much longer than he had, he didn’t show it. She took a bracing sip of her coffee, anxious for the kick of caffeine. She hadn’t slept well the night before, irrationally nervous about their first early morning meeting as she hadn’t yet met their new boss.

“I know we have our level one trauma center review coming up next week,” Rick continued. He swept a glance over the group. “Are there any outstanding issues I need to be aware of?”

Naomi couldn’t think of anything major, but she was the most junior member of the trauma team, having only been on staff at Children’s Memorial Hospital for two years. She remained silent as two of the tenured surgeons, Frank Turner and Chuck Lowrey, mentioned a few problem areas and the steps they’d taken to mitigate them.

She listened to the discussion but her mind began to drift, her gaze unerringly coming back to rest on Rick.

Why was she so physically aware of him? She hadn’t so much as experienced anything more than a flicker of interest in a man since her divorce two years ago. Why now? And why her new boss? A man completely off-limits?

Was fate trying to tell her something?

No, she needed to maintain a positive attitude. Her divorce had been rough. She and Andrew, her exhusband, had both wanted a baby for a long time. But after suffering a devastating miscarriage, and then being told that her ability to conceive again was unlikely, their relationship had quickly fallen apart.

One night she’d come home from work to find Andrew had packed up and moved out. She’d tried to talk to him, to salvage their marriage, but Andrew hadn’t been interested.

Her divorce hadn’t eliminated her desire to have a child, though. She’d gotten pregnant once before so she knew it could happen again. And she just couldn’t believe she was destined to live her life without ever having a baby. A child to love and cherish. Even if it meant raising a child on her own.

Rick described his plans to upgrade their trauma program, including monthly quality reviews on surgical complications, and she took notes, hoping the task would break the visceral reaction he seemed to have on her.

His gaze brushed hers and her pulse kicked into triple digits. She glanced away, hoping she could get her hormones to settle down soon.

This was ridiculous. Yes, she fantasized about having a baby, but having a real-life, flesh-and-blood man wasn’t a part of her plan. Her marriage had crumbled at the time she’d needed Andrew the most. She refused to open herself up to that sort of pain again.

Which left only one option. Artificial insemination.

She’d debated long and hard, finally choosing a donor, paying her money and scheduling an appointment at the fertilization clinic. That had been four months ago. Minor crises at work had kept making her miss the appointments and her cycle was irregular, which didn’t help either.

She was ovulating again, so she’d made another appointment. This time she refused to let anything get in her way.

“Any questions?” Rick’s gaze locked with hers. A guilty flush stained her cheeks. Could he tell she hadn’t been paying attention? Or, worse, could he tell how much his mere presence affected her?

She gathered her scattered, sleep-deprived thoughts. What had he talked about? She glanced at her notes. Oh, yes, plans for expanding their pediatric trauma prevention program into the community. She cleared her throat. “Do you need a volunteer to be on the community education committee? Because, if so, I’d like to be involved.”

“Absolutely.” Rick’s face lit up. “Naomi Horton, right?”

She nodded, feeling her heart race at the sound of her name in his deep, husky voice. Good grief, she hadn’t worked so hard to get through five years of surgical residency followed by another year as a surgical/trauma fellow to react like an adolescent the first time a gorgeous man smiled at her. She’d worked darned hard to get where she was and she wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize her position.

“I’ve met the rest of the team over these past few days, but kept missing you. Glad to finally put a face to a name.” Rick’s tone turned serious. “Yes, the community education program is very important to our trauma recertification process. I appreciate your will ingness to help out.”

“No problem.”

“Great.” His gaze lingered on hers for a moment and she had the impression there was a hint of sadness in them before he turned and glanced over the group. “Any other questions?” He paused, waiting. “If not, we’ll call this meeting adjourned. Uh, Naomi, do you have a minute?”

Feeling like the errant student who hadn’t finished her homework, Naomi stood awkwardly to the side, allowing her colleagues to pass by on their way out of the physician conference room.

“What’s up?” she asked, striving for a distant tone. “I’m on service today in the PICU and need to get upstairs to make rounds.”

“I know, but I need a favor.” For the first time that morning, Rick appeared ill at ease.

A favor? She lifted a curious brow. “What?”

“I need someone to cover my call shift this evening.” His gaze was slightly apologetic. “I have a pressing personal issue I need to take care of. I can take over about nine o’clock or ten at the latest, if that’s all right with you?”

Nine or ten? Her heart sank. Heck no, it wasn’t all right. She had an appointment at the clinic at six and they closed at eight. Was he asking her because she was the most junior member of the group? Or because she was divorced and couldn’t possibly have a life? She stiffened her spine, not willing to be viewed as the easy mark. No way was she going to start covering all Rick’s call shifts, just because he happened to be the boss. She swallowed hard and forced a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but I have plans this evening. You’ll have to ask someone else.”

“I see.” He simply looked at her for a moment, but then slowly nodded. “I understand. I did check with the others. Debra is already post-call and she was up most of the night. Steve and Dirk are flying out to San Francisco to attend a national pediatric trauma conference. Frank and his wife are celebrating their twentieth wedding anniversary, and Chuck Lowrey is filling in for one of the general surgeons while he’s on vacation.”

Damn. That pretty much covered their entire team. But her plans were just as important as anyone else’s. More so, because every time she canceled it meant another month of waiting. Another month of postponing her dream of having a family of her own. Helplessly she lifted a shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

His smile was crooked. “It’s all right. My problem, not yours. Thanks anyway.”

She turned away, fully intending to walk out, but the way he’d accepted her decision, without pulling rank or asking specifically what her plans were, made her waver. What was his pressing personal issue? She’d heard through the grapevine that Rick wasn’t married, but that didn’t mean anything. No doubt he was in some sort of relationship. For all she knew, his plans might not be anything more than getting his girlfriend settled after their move.

Yet to be fair, he didn’t seem like the type to exaggerate his need for time off. Trauma surgeons knew being on call was a part of the job, and being in charge of the program meant you had to take call rotations like everyone else. She took one step toward the door, and then another. She stopped. Calling herself every kind of fool, she sighed and turned back to meet Rick’s faintly questioning gaze. “I’ll take your shift.”

For a moment his eyes lit up but then he shook his head. “No, I can’t ask you to cancel your plans.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Sure. No big deal, just her entire future. She stifled a sigh and forced a smile. “Really, take care of what you need to do. I’ll cover your call.”

There was a long pause, as if he were debating with himself on whether or not he should take her up on her offer. Finally he nodded. “Thanks, Naomi. And if you get slammed with patients, just give me a call and I’ll back you up. With any luck, I’ll be finished by nine.”

Usually Wednesday nights weren’t exactly big trauma nights, unless the weather was bad. Peds trauma wasn’t nearly as busy as adult trauma. She was supposed to be second call anyway, but had figured there’d be little chance of being called in to help Rick, so she’d made the appointment when she’d realized she was ovulating.

If she didn’t go to the clinic today, she wouldn’t be able to go for the rest of the week. She and the other surgeons had picked up extra shifts to cover for Steve and Dirk who were on their way to San Francisco.

Canceling her plans tonight meant she’d forgo her chance of getting pregnant this month. Just like she’d forgone her plans last month and the month before that.

Her heart squeezed in her chest. She needed to find a way to make regular appointments and keep them. Her OB doctor had warned her that conceiving would be difficult, thanks to the scar tissue she’d sustained during several bouts of endometriosis. Canceling her appointments wasn’t helping in her quest to get pregnant.

“Thanks again,” Rick said, his gaze warm with appreciation. “I owe you one.”

“Sure.” Her smile was weak. He might owe her a favor but there was no way she could ask him to provide the one thing she really wanted.

A baby.

Rick watched Naomi leave, then yanked his gaze away when he realized he was admiring her petite, yet curvy backside. He frowned and gave his head a slight shake. He wasn’t interested in women, not any more.

Not ever again.

Convincing himself he’d only been grateful because Naomi had bailed him out of a jam, he stood. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he headed back to his office to catch up on his e-mails until the hour was late enough that he could call his sister.

Forty-five minutes later, he picked up the phone. “Jess? I managed to get off work tonight, so I can go to the father-daughter dance with Lizzy.”

“Oh, Rick, that’s wonderful. Lizzy will be ecstatic.” Jessica hesitated, then added, “Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I know this won’t be easy for you.”

“I’m fine.” He knew he sounded gruff, but couldn’t help it. Two years and the pain of his loss hadn’t gone away. Although sometimes he could go for days without thinking about it. He cleared his throat and tried to soften his tone. “Lizzy deserves to have someone escort her to the father-daughter dance. I’m honored to take her.”

“She’s going to be so thrilled. Thanks for rearranging your schedule, Rick.”

“No problem. Tell Lizzy I’ll pick her up at six.” He hung up the phone and stared blindly at his computer. He wasn’t so sure Naomi would appreciate why he’d asked her to cover his shift, but he couldn’t regret taking up her offer. Lizzy had just turned ten and was feeling left out of the “in” crowd at school. But she was a great kid, and it certainly wasn’t her fault she hadn’t seen her father for years. The jerk had taken off shortly after Lizzy’s birth.

Jess had done a good job of raising Lizzy alone, but he also knew his sister had struggled. He’d helped Jess financially, but it hadn’t been until recently, after he’d lost his own wife and child, that he’d begun looking for a position to bring him closer to home.

A new start was just what he needed to help get away from the memories. Plus, he figured he should help Jess raise Lizzy, as they didn’t have any other family left. And he wasn’t interested in going down that path again. Having and losing one family in a lifetime was bad enough.

Rick left work early so he could catch a couple of hours’ sleep, just in case he had a busy call night. He didn’t sleep well, but managed to get a little rest. He showered and dressed, then left to pick up his niece.

The father-daughter dance wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. The gym of the elementary school had been decorated with streams of crepe paper and dozens of balloons. The disc jockey played songs, took requests and held a dance contest. He and Lizzy participated but his lack of coordination hindered their chance of winning. He managed to participate in the chicken dance, though, and if he felt like an idiot, flapping his arms like wings, he considered it lucky that no one he knew was around to see him.

For a few songs the DJ played some sort of rap music that hurt his ears. Thankfully, the girls preferred dancing with each other, leaving the dads and surrogate dads to stand around, awkwardly talking about sports and wishing for something stronger than punch to drink. He caught himself glancing at his watch and wondering how Naomi was doing. For her sake, he hoped the trauma calls weren’t too bad.

Finally, the DJ announced the last song, and he danced once again with Lizzy. Her head barely reached his chest, but they managed to get through the whole number without him stepping on her toes.

“Thanks, Uncle Rick,” she murmured, gazing up at him with wide, adoring brown eyes. “I’m so glad you could come with me. I was so sad to think I might have to sit at home alone tonight.”

The thought of Lizzy feeling sad and lonely made him doubly glad Naomi had helped him out. “Hey, I’m the lucky guy who got to dance with the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Oh, brother.” She rolled her eyes, but blushed and giggled. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.” He took her hand as they headed toward the door, and glanced down at her. “I love you, Lizzy.”

“I love you too, Uncle Rick.” She flashed him a dazzling smile, and just for a moment he imagined that his daughter Sarah would have looked at him in the same way, six years from now.

A sharp stab of pain caught him off guard and he dropped his car keys. Fumbling, he picked them up and then held the door for Lizzy so they could walk outside. A thick fog hung over the school parking lot, so he used the key fob to help locate their car.

Pulling himself out from under a cloak of painful memories, he helped Lizzy inside and then walked around to the driver’s side. He started the car and carefully drove out of the parking lot, moving slowly because of the dense fog. Luckily his sister’s house wasn’t far. He was headed in that direction when his pager went off.

With a frown, he pulled the car over and read the text message from Naomi. Multi-vehicle crash with five peds victims expected, one DOA at the scene. I’m going to need help.

“Is there a problem?” Lizzy asked, her freckle-dusted nose wrinkling in a frown.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to go back to the hospital tonight.” Still driving slowly, keeping a careful eye out for other cars, he pulled into his sister’s driveway and left the car running while he took the time to see Lizzy safely inside the house. “See you later, kiddo.” He gave her a quick hug. “Tell your mom I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“I will. Bye. Thanks again.” Lizzy waved as he dashed to his car and backed out of the driveway.

Adrenaline surged as he drove toward Children’s Memorial, the short ride taking twice as long as usual. He didn’t doubt that the heavy fog had contributed to the MVA. Five peds victims was almost unheard of when the average was a couple calls a night. He supposed he should be thankful that the crash had taken place after Lizzy’s father-daughter dance had ended.

Fifteen minutes later he strode into the E.D. and found Naomi up to her pretty neck in pediatric trauma victims. There were three youngsters in the trauma room, ages ranging from eight to fourteen, each looking worse than the next.

A wave of guilt for asking Naomi to switch shifts with him hit him.

“Where do you want me to start?” he asked. Naomi was still the surgeon in charge, and he didn’t want to automatically take control of the situation she’d already begun to handle.

“Take a look at the youngest over there.” She pointed to the victims closest to the door. “I think he needs to go to the O.R. We’re going to have to split up, one operating on patients while the other continues triaging patients down here.”

He glanced around, noting the level of activity. “Split up? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We don’t have a choice.” Naomi’s gaze was grim. “These are only the first three victims—there are still two more on the way. We need to clear a few of these patients out of here before the next ones arrive.”

CHAPTER TWO

NAOMI wished she could have avoided bothering Rick, but there were too many victims for one trauma surgeon to handle. This many pediatric trauma patients was unusual, but apparently there was a special kids’ night being held at the baseball park and lots of kids had been in the cars that had crashed. As she was already triaging, she decided to send Rick to surgery.

“You’d better take this patient to the O.R.” She gestured to the youngest patient, Jimmy Dupont, an eight-year-old with a tense abdomen. “I’m pretty sure he has a ruptured spleen, he’s lost too much blood. If you can take him off my hands, I’ll manage the rest of the triage down here.”

“All right.” Rick didn’t argue, but motioned to the nurse hanging another unit of blood. “Let’s go. I’ll change clothes when we get to the O.R.”

In the back corner of her mind she realized Rick was wearing a suit and tie, but there wasn’t time to resent how he’d used her to cover for a hot date, not when she had so many patients to care for. She turned her attention to the situation at hand, feeling as if she was standing in the middle of a war zone.

“All right, I want the twelve-year-old female, Chelsey Dupont, transferred to the ICU.” She’d already intubated Chelsey and placed a chest tube for the girl’s collapsed lung. Out of all the trauma patients they’d received so far, Chelsey had been the first to arrive and was the most stable of the bunch. The PICU residents upstairs could handle her care for a little while.

“I want Tristan Brown to get a CT scan of his chest and belly.” She suspected fourteen-year-old Tristan had a severe liver laceration, but needed to make sure it was nothing more. He also had a compound femur fracture and had already called the ortho surgeons to take a look at him.

“Doc?” Tristan reached out for her as the nurses began to wheel him away.

“What is it, Tristan?” She stopped them, and took his hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Where’s my sister? Where’s Emily?”

She bit her lip, hoping to heaven that Emily wasn’t the child who’d been declared DOA on the scene. “I don’t know. How old is she? There are still a few victims on the way.”

“Seven. Emily is only seven.” Tristan’s eyes were wild with anxiety. “You have to find her for me. Our parents were hurt, too. I need to see Emily.”

The whole family. She swallowed hard and gently squeezed his hand. “I’ll find Emily but we need to take care of you, too, Tristan. The nurses are going to take you to Radiology for a CT scan of your belly. I need to make sure there’s nothing more serious than a few broken bones.”

“I don’t care.” His eyes filled with anguished tears. “Find Emily, Doc. Please, find my sister. Tell her I love her.”

“I will.” She released his hand and stepped back so the nurses could wheel him away. She bit her lip, desperately needing to find out the name of the DOA patient. She didn’t know if the DOA was an adult or a child, and although no one deserved to die in a car crash, she found herself praying the dead patient wasn’t little Emily.

She hurried towards the unit clerk’s desk but was brought up short when the doors to the trauma room burst open and two more bloodstained patients were brought in.

Fleeting panic hit low in her belly. Never in her life had she ever faced such a massive influx of pediatric trauma patients at one time. She strove to remain calm, listening as the paramedics rattled off the pertinent details.

“Ten-year-old male with multiple fractures, including his pelvis, long extrication at the scene, blood pressure low-eighties over forty.”

“Do you have a name?” She wanted to know how many families they were dealing with here. So far they had the Duponts and the Browns.

“Mike Winthrop.”

Make that a third family. She filed that bit of information away for when the family members started coming in. “Start fluid resuscitation until Ortho gets here.” Naomi glanced at the second patient. With all the blood covering the child’s face, it was difficult to determine the gender. “What’s the story with this one?”

“Crushing chest injury, and another long extrication at the scene. The car that hit them was on top of their car, crushing the victims in the back seat.”

“Age and name?”

“Emily Brown. We almost had to sedate her brother who wasn’t doing very well himself yet was still trying to crawl back into the car to get her.”

Having just spoken to Tristan, she wasn’t surprised. Her gaze landed on Emily and she swallowed her fear, knowing the massive injuries stretched her limitations as a trauma surgeon. “Call the cardiothoracic surgeons, I need someone here to evaluate her asap.”

One of the nurses scurried off. Naomi did a quick examination of Emily, but she could see the poor girl’s ribs flailing from the foot of the gurney. Dear God most if not all of her ribs were broken. She hated to think of the damage that had already been done to her small heart. Most of the trauma surgeons could do a little open-chest surgery, but she’d only done it a couple of times and never alone. Given a choice, she’d rather have the experts with her.

“The CT surgeon is on his way in from home, but the weather may cause him to be delayed,” the nurse informed her a few minutes later. “He said he’d get here as soon as possible.”

She blew out a breath. No choice. Emily was her patient. “Okay, we can’t waste any more time. Get those labs sent off and we’ll take her straight up to surgery.”

“What about Mike Winthrop?” Missy, the charge nurse, asked, a harried expression on her face.

“Get the ortho trauma team to write the admitting orders on both Tristan Brown with his multiple fractures and Mike Winthrop with his crushed pelvis. Get them ICU beds and either Rick or I will be up to see them as soon as we’re finished in the O.R.”

“Okay.” Missy bustled off. Naomi didn’t waste any more time, but headed up to the O.R. with little Emily.

The O.R. team had Emily prepped, draped and ready to go. Anesthesia was there, putting the seven-year-old to sleep and monitoring her labile vital signs. Naomi scrubbed at the sinks outside the room and then donned her sterile garb. Her stomach clenched and she was glad she hadn’t eaten much for dinner because she felt sick at the thought of doing this alone. Taking a deep breath, she entered the O.R. suite.

“Ready?” she asked, taking her place at the patient’s chest. She wasn’t tall, and she generally used a step stool to perform surgery, which everyone had pretty much gotten used to by now.

“We’ve been giving blood as fast as possible, but she’s not gaining any ground,” the anesthesiologist warned. His name was Matt Granger and she’d done many cases with him before.

“Keep doing what you’re doing, and let’s see what we have.” Naomi reached for a scalpel and made the incision straight down the center of Emily’s small chest.

Her ribs were a mess and she didn’t need to cut the sternum as it was already broken. “Suction,” she barked when blood gushed, obliterating her view of the heart. Sweat trickled down the center of her back. “I need to find the source of her bleeding.”

“Need a hand?” a deep voice asked from behind her. She turned to see Rick standing there.

She wanted nothing more than to have Rick’s help, but the other five trauma patients needed him, too. And it was possible that Emily’s heart was beyond repair. No sense in putting the other patients at risk by tying up both of them. “I’m fine for now. The CT surgeon is on his way in from home. You’d better go and check out the ICU admissions. All of the trauma patients have been admitted to the ICU, the ortho trauma team should be evaluating the two with major fractures.”

“Sounds like everything is under control.” He gestured to the open chest. “Are you comfortable with this?”

“I’ve only done open-chest procedures a few times,” she admitted, “but hopefully I’ll find the bleeder.” She turned back to her patient and examined the chest cavity as well as she could, thinking it was possible Emily had a tear in her inferior vena cava, one of the major veins carrying blood to the heart.

“I’ll check on the ICU patients and then come back,” Rick said, his voice fading as he moved away. She didn’t bother to respond. If Emily’s vena cava was torn, things were going to get worse before they got better.

More suction, and she still couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of the hemorrhage.

“We’re losing her. I have maximum doses of three different vasopressors running with no response in blood pressure,” Matt informed her.

“Give more blood.” Sweat pooled at the base of her spine as she fought to slow the bleeding. The vena cava wasn’t an artery but its proximity to the heart made things tricky. “Does anyone know when the CT surgeon will arrive?” she asked, hoping the tremor in her voice didn’t betray her.

“I’ll check.” The circulating nurse left.

There was way too much blood. If she didn’t do something to get the bleeding under control soon, this poor little girl would die. “I want her placed on the heart-lung bypass machine.”

Matt’s gaze met hers over the supine body of their patient. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t have a choice. I can’t fix the tear in her vena cava without additional support for her heart.”

The second circulating nurse in the room wheeled in the heart-lung bypass machine. Naomi was out of her depth with the extent of this surgery and she knew it. “Call Dr Weber back, tell him I need help.”

“I spoke with Dr Yulton, the CT surgeon on call. He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

She wasn’t sure Emily had ten minutes to spare, but she nodded to indicate she’d heard. The techs set up the bypass machine while she began to cross-clamp the major arteries in preparation for the switch-over.

“I’m here.” Rick’s voice had never sounded so good.

“I’m losing her,” she said, her voice steady. “The CT surgeon will be here soon, but I need help now.”

Rick didn’t say a word but helped her perform the switch to bypass. They managed to get Emily safely transferred to the heart-lung machine just as the pediatric cardio thoracic surgeon walked in.

Naomi didn’t leave, but was more than happy to let the CT surgeon take the lead. Rick stayed too, and once Craig Yulton got Emily’s bleeding under control, she breathed a little easier.

“I’ll take her from here,” Craig said, glancing up at Naomi from the opposite side of the patient. “I heard about the multi-car crash after the ballgame, so I’m sure you have other patients to see.”

They did, so Naomi nodded gratefully and stepped down off her stool away from the table. Rick followed her out of the O.R. suite.

They stripped off their face masks simultaneously. The post-adrenaline rush hit hard and she struggled to breathe.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice full of concern.

She tried to nod, but her knees trembled and she suddenly felt weak. Taking a few steps, she sank into the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands.

“Naomi?” Rick’s hand on her shoulder was warm, when she was cold inside and out.

“I almost lost her.” Regret for every minute she’d wasted burned in the back of her throat. She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together, but kept remembering how she’d sent Rick back to the ICU when she really should have handed Emily’s care over to him. “I let my ego get in the way and I almost lost her.”

“What are you talking about?” Rick asked in an incredulous tone. “You did everything exactly right. It was your decision to put her on bypass.”

“Too late. I should have made the decision sooner.” She lifted her head, forcing herself to meet Rick’s puzzled gaze. “I should have asked you to stay. I’ve never done an open-chest case on my own.” The truth weighed on her shoulders like a truckload of bricks and she glanced down, noticing how badly her hands were shaking yet powerless to make them stop. “It’s my fault if Emily dies.”

Rick stared at Naomi, realizing she was completely serious. Her hands were shaking and she was truly upset. Pediatrics wasn’t an easy specialty, not when their small patients had so much life yet to live. But even so he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a surgeon take a patient’s outcome so personally. “No, it’s not. Five pediatric trauma cases is a major disaster. There were several adults we sent over to Trinity, too. You did everything possible to save each and every patient. If this young girl dies, it’s because a car landed on her, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

She shook her head, refusing to believe him.

His heart ached for her, and if they were handing out blame, he knew he deserved a large portion for himself. If he hadn’t convinced Naomi to switch shifts with him, he would have been the one in charge and would have stayed in the trauma room to triage patients. The seven-year-old with the crushing chest wound would have ended up as his patient. But he didn’t honestly think he could have handled the surgery very differently than Naomi had. Heck, it was always easy to second-guess yourself after the fact, dissecting every little thing you could have done differently.

“We’d better get over to the ICU,” Naomi said in a low voice, clearly struggling to pull herself together. “There’s still a lot of work to do.”

She was right. They did have a lot of work yet to do, but he couldn’t stand to see her beating herself up like this. Especially when she didn’t deserve it. He took her hands and drew her to her feet. Naomi was a tiny thing, her figure hidden by the baggy O.R. scrubs, but he could see silky wisps of her ebony hair escaping the edges of her cap. There was something about her that drew him to her, something he couldn’t ignore. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Naomi, you’re an excellent surgeon.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t meet his eyes and he knew she was simply being polite. She didn’t believe he meant what he said.

He had the crazy urge to fold her into his arms for a reassuring hug, but held himself in check. After all, he was her boss and he barely knew her, only having met her for the first time at their meeting that morning. He willed her to see he was telling the truth. “I’m not handing you a line, Naomi. I haven’t been here long, but this situation tonight would have put immense pressure on any member of the team. I’m impressed.”

“You wouldn’t be so impressed if one of the more experienced members of the team was here,” she pointed out. “I just happen to be the youngest and least experienced surgeon on staff.”

“No, actually, I’m most impressed because of how much you care.” Rick released her hands and took a step back, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. For too long he’d been so lost in his own misery he hadn’t allowed anyone close. Hadn’t allowed himself to care about anyone except his sister Jess and his niece Lizzy. Yet suddenly, here with Naomi, he was feeling dangerously vulnerable. “You’re a trauma surgeon who truly cares. I think some of us tend to keep ourselves distant from our patients.”

She tilted her head, regarding him warily. “I guess I can understand. I mean, you’ve been treating pediatric trauma patients for years and after a while I’m sure it’s difficult to handle the loss.”

He swallowed hard, wishing he could tell her the truth. Was surprised he even wanted to. But he couldn’t force the words out of his throat. His wife and daughter were buried too deep in his soul to let them free. “Losing children is never easy.” He was impressed his voice was so steady when Sarah’s face was etched so clearly in his mind. “Now, come on, we have patients to see.”

She didn’t smile, but nodded and fell into step beside him as they headed out of the operating room and down the hall toward the pediatric ICU. She didn’t say much until they entered the unit, and then she began asking questions about the newest patients.

Together they made rounds, making sure all aspects of care were covered. They saw Tristan last, and he watched as Naomi approached his bedside. “Tristan, Emily is here at the hospital, in surgery.”

Tristan couldn’t respond verbally—they’d been forced to intubate him during the CT scan. The kid had a pretty severe grade-four liver laceration and multiple fractures. But Rick noticed the teenager clung to Naomi’s hand.

“Emily’s heart had a small tear next to it, and many of her ribs were broken, but she’s doing okay. You need to rest, Tristan, so you can be strong for Emily.”

The boy nodded and after a few minutes, Naomi reassuringly patted his hand and stepped back. After they’d reviewed Tristan’s orders, they headed down to the nurses’ station.

“Emily Brown is coming out of the O.R. in fifteen minutes,” the unit clerk informed them.

“I’ll stay until she’s settled in,” Naomi said.

Rick glanced at his watch, not surprised to see it was well after midnight. “Naomi, you can’t. You really need to go home and get some sleep. You’re on call tomorrow night, aren’t you?”

She nodded, fatigue evident on her face. “Yeah, I’m covering for Dirk. Another half-hour isn’t going to matter one way or the other. I want to see her before I go home.”

Suspecting more arguments would be useless, he gave up. He would have offered to take her call shift, but had a bad feeling he was going to be up most of the night as it was.

He helped himself to a cup of coffee and then headed down to bed fourteen, where Emily was due to be placed. The CT team had brought her out quicker than the promised fifteen minutes and he stood beside Naomi, watching as they settled Emily.

The young girl was stable, her heart was doing as well as could be expected. All they could do now was to wait and see.

“Go home, Naomi,” Rick said in a low tone. “I’ll be here with her all night.”

“I know.” She flashed a small smile and he was struck by how beautiful she truly was. His chest squeezed tight. “Promise you’ll call if you need anything.”

“I will.” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his lab coat as she turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of her guilt.

He stood watching her leave, wishing she didn’t have to go. He liked working with her. Scary, considering he’d revealed more of himself to Naomi than he had to anyone else over the past two years, since he’d lost his wife and two-year-old daughter.

He shook his head. Since Gabrielle and Sarah had died, he’d kept his emotions in deep freeze. He’d stayed in peds because starting over in another specialty hadn’t appealed to him, but he kept himself emotionally isolated from everyone. It had been the only way he’d been able to survive.

Emily’s sweet face reminded him painfully of his daughter’s. Innocent Sarah, far too young to die. He blocked the image the best he could as he went to work.

But somehow he couldn’t find his usual, comfortable emotional distance. His feelings were already involved.

With Emily.

And especially with Naomi.

CHAPTER THREE

NAOMI tried to sleep in the following morning, especially since she was off work until five o’clock when it would be time for her to take over her call shift.

But she woke up every hour, starting at seven in the morning, and finally gave up at ten. She dragged herself out of bed, knowing there was no way she’d manage to get any rest until she went back to the hospital to follow up on her trauma admissions from the night before.

Especially Emily. And Tristan. Had their parents survived the crash? She hoped there was someone close to them who could come and support them during this time of crisis.

After taking a quick shower, she dried her hair, appreciating the ease of her simple, chin-length bob. She didn’t use much make-up, especially when she was only going to be on call later anyway. She pulled on a pair of trim black trousers and an electric-blue blouse topped with her white lab coat. Outside, the sun was shining brightly, no sign of the heavy fog from the night before that had caused such devastation after the baseball game.

Her house wasn’t far from Children’s Memorial Hospital. For practical reasons she preferred to live close to the hospital. After Andrew had left, she’d kept the house as she’d paid most of the mortgage anyway. He hadn’t argued, happy to take the cash buyout, which hadn’t been a surprise considering how hard he’d tried to convince her they’d needed to move to a bigger and better place outside the city limits.

Reminders of her ex-husband made her frown. She’d been devastated at losing their baby, and when Andrew had moved out during one of her extended call shifts, she’d been shocked. How could he have been so cold? So callous?

When she’d tried to talk to him, he’d told her he’d been thinking of leaving her anyway, because of her erratic schedule and long hours. The discovery of her infertility had convinced him there was no hope for them. He hadn’t wanted to go through the stress and agony all over again.

As much as she’d tried to tell herself she was obviously better off without him, she had never felt so lonely.

Naomi pulled into the designated private parking garage reserved for physicians and shook off thoughts of Andrew as she strode into the hospital. She didn’t bother with the elevator but took the stairs to the third-floor pediatric intensive care unit.

Rick was standing at the main desk when she walked in and he glanced at the clock with a puzzled frown. “You’re a little early, aren’t you?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” She lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, feeling self-conscious after the way she’d gotten so emotional on him last night. “How are things going?”

“So far, good.” Rick’s gaze slid from hers and her gut clenched, knowing he was holding something back. With unspoken agreement, they walked down the hall towards the physician conference room.

“Emily? How’s Emily doing?”

Rick didn’t say anything but steered her toward the conference room, which for once was empty of residents. He turned to face her, his expression grim. “She had a rough night, Naomi. They’ve decided to place her on the heart transplant list.”

“What?” Shocked, she could only stare at him. “She needs a new heart? How? Why?”

He nodded. “They took her back to surgery this morning, because she’d continued to bleed. During the surgery they decided they didn’t have any choice but to put her on a Heartmate.”

A Heartmate was an external device that took over the work of the heart. It was often used as a bridge to a transplant. But pediatric organs were rarely available. It was possible that Emily would be forced to live much of her life on the device. If she could manage to avoid a life-threatening infection, that was.

“Poor Emily.” She had to blink back tears. “Does her family know? Tristan?”

“Her parents are patients at Trinity Medical Center, but the nurses in the ICU over there brought Emily’s mother over during the night. Emily’s father was too sick to be moved.”

The poor family. How awful to be hospitalized in different places. Especially when Emily’s life hung in the balance. “If she dies, it’s my fault.”

Rick sighed and scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Naomi, don’t do this to yourself. Emily was crushed by a car. If she dies, it’s not your fault.”

Yes, it would be her fault, but there was no point in arguing. The trauma department had a monthly morbidity and mortality review, and this case would certainly be discussed, along with her performance during surgery. The best thing a surgeon could do was to own up to their mistakes and learn from them. The fact that Emily would have died without the Heartmate was serious enough.

“Naomi?” She started, realizing Rick had been talking to her, his blue eyes bright with concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“You saved the lives of five pediatric trauma patients last night. Don’t the others count at all?” his exasperated tone grated on her nerves. “Give yourself a break, would you? Or were you responsible for the DOA on the scene, too?”

She grit her teeth, knowing he was right, even if she didn’t appreciate his sarcasm. “Yes, the other patients do count.” She pulled herself together, knowing Emily was still alive. Maybe a miracle would happen and the youngster would get a new heart, sooner rather than later. “How are the families dealing with everything?”

“As well as can be expected. As you know, both Brown parents are patients in the adult ICU at Trinity, and so is the father of the Dupont family. The Winthrop parents are here—their son was injured only because he’d gone along with the Dupont family for the ride.”

“Some ride.” She sighed. “Okay. Thanks for filling me in.”

Rick tucked his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “Are you heading back home or do you have an hour to spare?”

“I have time,” she said, wondering what he wanted to talk about. Maybe he wanted to give her some friendly advice on how to handle multiple trauma victims in a mini-disaster. Heaven knew, she could use the education.

“Great. I thought maybe we could talk about the goals for the community education committee.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “We could grab a quick lunch in the cafeteria.”

She wasn’t very hungry. Emily’s condition weighed heavily on her shoulders, but at the same time she didn’t want to keep Rick from eating, especially as he was post-call. He looked pretty good for a guy who’d no doubt been up most of the night. “Are you sure you want to do this now? You probably didn’t get much sleep last night. We can always talk about the community education plan later.”

“Believe it or not, I got about four hours of sleep between four and eight this morning.” He led the way out of the conference room, through the PICU and to the elevators. “At this point, I need to stay up or I won’t sleep tonight, when I’m supposed to.”

She knew what he meant. Being post-call wreaked havoc on a body’s sleep cycle. Stepping into the elevator beside him, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and the musky scent filled her head, teasing her pheromones. Her pulse kicked up and she took a subtle step back, hoping the distance would help. He wore a shirt, tie and smart trousers this morning, reminding

her of how great he’d looked the night before in a suit, when he’d come in to help her with the MVA victims.

She frowned, a kernel of resentment unfurling in her belly. Wait a minute. She’d given up her chance to become pregnant to help him out. How dared he use the time to go out on a date?

The elevator doors opened and she led the way into the cafeteria, telling herself to drop it. In truth, she was glad to have been there when so many trauma patients had needed her. Even if she had almost caused little Emily more harm than good. Besides, what Rick Weber did in his personal time was none of her business.

Except when he dragged her into it, by asking her to cover his call shift. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he hadn’t been on a date but at something more serious, like a funeral. She helped herself to a salad while Rick went for the barbequed spare ribs. She added a cup of soup to complement her salad, and then stood in line to pay.

“I’ll take care of it.” Rick spoke up from behind her.

She swallowed another flash of irritation. Would he offer to pay for Chuck’s lunch? Or Frank’s? Or Dirk’s? She highly doubted it.

He must have sensed her mood because he quickly handed a twenty-dollar note to the cashier. “Please. To help pay you back for covering me yesterday.”

She arched a brow as they walked to the nearest table. “Don’t think you’re going to get off that easily. I plan to make you cover one of my call nights in return. Maybe even on a holiday,” she threatened.

Rick’s laugh was a low, rusty sound and she couldn’t help but smile as she sat down opposite him.

“I’m not kidding,” she warned.

“I know.” He took a bite of his barbequed ribs, not looking too worried.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. When her curiosity got the better of her, she glanced at him. “Should I offer my condolences?”

Startled, he gaped at her. “Why?”

“I thought maybe you attended a funeral, the way you were dressed up when you came in last night.” She tried to sound casual, instead of intensely nosy.

“No funeral.” Rick stared at his plate for a long moment before meeting her questioning gaze. “I do appreciate you covering for me. I needed to spend time with a very special person.”

Her jaw dropped. What nerve! She had been right. He had used her so he could go out on a hot date.

Stabbing the lettuce and tomato in her salad with more force than was necessary, she offered a thin, brittle smile. “Glad you had fun. Who’s the lucky woman?”

“Fun might be stretching it a bit,” he said with a grimace, seemingly unaware of her ire. “But the lucky woman is Lizzy, my ten-year-old niece. Her father took off right after she was born and she needed a surrogate father to escort her to the father-daughter dance. I know a silly grade-school dance may not seem important to you, but Lizzy means the world to me and I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her to sit at home alone.”

His niece? She swallowed hard, ashamed to realize she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Not a hot date after all, but family. How could she argue with putting family first? She remembered the father-daughter dance at school. She would have loved to have gone, but her father had been too busy defending a big client at his law firm and hadn’t taken time off for such frivolities.

Her stab of resentment faded, replaced by a softening in the region of her heart as she imagined Rick at the dance with a ten-year-old. “I think it’s wonderful you cared enough to find cover so you could take your niece to the dance,” she said in a low voice. “Lizzy is very lucky to have you.”

Their gazes caught, held, and she’d swear every last bit of oxygen had been sucked from her lungs at the steamy intensity of his gaze.

His pager went off and he read the text message. “Ah, excuse me for a moment while I answer this.” He rose to his feet and headed for the nearest phone.

She stared at her food, realizing how close she was to making a fool of herself over a man. Again. So what if Rick was sweet, kind, and hotter than burning jet fuel? She’d always avoided dating doctors, her schedule was crazy enough the way it was, and juggling two call schedules was just asking for trouble.

Even her accountant husband hadn’t loved her enough to put up with her schedule. Or her infertility. And the few men she’d dated after her divorce hadn’t been much better. She’d actually confessed her problems to Denis, but he’d backed off so fast, she’d realized she’d made a huge mistake.

So she’d stopped looking for a relationship. Besides, even if she had been looking for a relationship, Rick was her boss, which meant he was completely off limits. She needed to concentrate on her plans for the future, which included hopefully becoming pregnant and having a baby. A child she’d love with her whole heart.

Not a man.

Rick listened as the resident explained how Tristan Brown, Emily’s brother, was insisting on being placed in the same room as his sister. The fact that ICUs didn’t have double rooms wasn’t a good enough reason. Tristan was insisting on spending the rest of his hospital stay in the parent bed provided in each of the PICU rooms, but there was no way to manage the external fixation device for his open femur fracture on a tiny pull-out bed.

He’d extubated Tristan that morning, and the boy had immediately demanded to know how his sister was doing. Tristan had gotten so agitated, Rick had feared he might need to intubate and sedate him again, in order to prevent more damage to his lower leg fractures. Despite the traction pinning him to the bed, Tristan had threatened to pull himself over to Emily’s room, on his elbows if need be.

Rick had believed him.

“I’ll be up to see Tristan as soon as I’m finished with lunch,” Rick replied. “Emily is still in surgery, getting her Heartmate anyway, so tell Tristan he needs to be patient. We’ll have to do some investigating to see if what he’s asking for is even possible.”

“Will do.” The resident hung up the phone.

He returned to the table, taking his seat again.

“So what goals do you envision for the community education committee?” she asked, pushing her half-eaten salad away.

He tried to bring his attention back to the point of their lunch. “I don’t know for sure, but I think we need a few different campaigns.”

“There’s been quite a bit of press already around drinking and driving, but as eighty percent of our teenage motor vehicle crash patients come in with alcohol in their systems, it’s worth repeating.”

“Yeah.” He knew exactly how Tristan felt. He figured he’d be just as protective with his younger sister, Jess. But at the same time, compromising Tristan’s care wasn’t an option either.

“Rick? Are you okay?” Naomi asked in concern.

He nodded, realizing he’d been staring down at his half-eaten food. “Yeah. Sorry. Ah, the other big problem we see is that people simply don’t pay attention while driving.” Gabrielle and Sarah had died in a car crash, they’d been wiped out by some guy who’d run a red light while talking on his cell phone. The guy who’d killed his wife and daughter had been convicted for vehicular homicide, but the knowledge hadn’t helped to ease the pain of his loss.

“Cell phones are a menace.” Naomi snapped her fingers. “I know we could run some sort of ‘Just Drive’ campaign. No eating, no make-up, no cell phones. ‘Stay Alive, Just Drive’ could be our slogan.”

“Sounds good.” Stay alive, just drive. If only the guy who’d killed Gabrielle and Sarah had done that. His appetite vanished, so he gave up trying to finish his lunch. Just thinking about the accident that had cost his family’s lives made him feel ill. He’d thought he could do this, work on something productive to help get over his past, but he’d been wrong. There was no way he could work on this community education campaign after all. “Why don’t you see if you can get one of the ED doctors and nurses to help as I’m going to be pretty busy with the whole trauma re-verification process?”

Momentary confusion crossed her features, but she nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

“Are you finished?” He suddenly needed to get back to work, to stop fixating on the lingering, ache of his past. “I have to go upstairs to deal with a family issue.”

“Yes.” She stood when he did and carried her empty tray over to the sideboard. “Is the family issue one of the three from last night?”

“Tristan and Emily Brown.” Rick headed toward the elevator. “I extubated Tristan this morning, and now he’s insisting on staying in his sister’s room. Impossible, considering he has a grade-four liver laceration and a compound fractured femur.”

Naomi frowned. “Why is it impossible? Their parents are both patients in the adult unit at Trinity. I can understand why Tristan feels the need to be next to his sister.”

He stabbed the button to call the elevator. “I can understand how he feels, too, but that doesn’t mean he gets his way. How would we provide care for him? Especially when he’s still an ICU patient?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure we could figure out a way.” Naomi’s chin tilted at a stubborn angle. “Those two kids deserve to be together.”

When they entered the unit, there was a team of medical personnel in Emily’s room. The young girl had just come back from surgery.

He followed Naomi in. For several moments they watched from the doorway as the team reconnected her to the bedside heart monitor, the large bulky Heartmate sitting beside her, dwarfing her small, frail frame.

Soon the urgency abated and the number of people in the room dwindled to just the nurse assigned to Emily’s care. Rick was about to go and talk to Tristan when he noticed Naomi taking a seat next to Emily’s bed.

“Hi, Emily,” she whispered, smoothing the young girl’s blonde hair away from her face with a tender, caring touch. “Did you know your brother Tristan is here, too? He’s right down the hall. He’ll be in to visit you very soon. He told me to tell you he loves you. Tristan loves you, Emily.” Naomi’s voice broke and she blinked away tears. “You’re going to feel better soon, you’ll see.”

His heart lodged in his throat. The compassion on her face tugged at him. He wanted to go to her, to wrap her in his arms and hold her close. Naomi didn’t just care about a young patient, this was something more. The wistful expression full of love and caring in her eyes reminded him all too well of the way Gabrielle had looked when she’d held their daughter in her arms.

He shook his head. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t be attracted to Naomi, especially not when in that fleeting moment the keen compassion in her eyes had reminded him of his wife.

Gabrielle and Sarah deserved better than to be shoved aside and forgotten.

He turned away, tearing his gaze from Naomi. Somehow, some way, he had to find a way to keep the pretty surgeon at a safe distance. So she didn’t threaten his sanity.

CHAPTER FOUR

NAOMI returned to the hospital at five o’clock that evening to start her overnight call shift. When she arrived in the PICU, Rick didn’t smile but gave her a reserved nod.

“Ready to make rounds?” he asked.

“Sure.” She frowned as they walked toward the first patient’s room, sending him a sidelong glance. Had she done something to make him angry?

“Justin Wright has a sixteen-year-old gunshot wound to the belly and was admitted the night before last, on Debra’s shift.” Rick’s voice was devoid of all emotion—he could have been reciting from an encyclopedia rather than describing a patient’s condition. “He’s running a fever so I switched his antibiotics this morning. If he doesn’t improve, he may need to go back to surgery to have his abdomen explored.”

“All right.” She made a notation on her sheet. They moved down to the next patient’s room. He continued talking in that same monotone voice, describing the current treatment regime for Jimmy and Chelsey Dupont, two of the patients she’d admitted the night before. As they made their way through the unit, Rick’s demeanor never changed. It was as if the moments they had spent together during last night’s crisis and their earlier lunch had never happened.

She reminded herself it was for the best. Rick was her boss. A professional relationship was the only thing they could ever share. Hadn’t she learned her lesson with Andrew?

Men wanted more than she could give.

Rick paused outside Tristan’s doorway. The teen was agitated, his sheets tangled around his limbs, his heart rate tipping over one hundred. His left femur with the open fracture was suspended from the traction pole above his bed, and she didn’t like the way he twisted and turned, as if trying to get away.

“Has he had any sedation?” Rick asked Angie, the nurse on duty.

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