A minute after Cassie had finished applying a light coat of make-up her door buzzer echoed through the apartment.

Her heart stuttered, and her stomach clenched with nerves, but she went over to the intercom to let him in.

He knocked at the door barely a minute later and she looped her purse over her shoulder before walking over to open the door. “Good morning,” she greeted him. “I’m ready.”

His blue eyes swept over her, glinting with approval. “You look amazing, Cassandra,” he murmured.

She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Thanks,” she murmured. “So do you.” Oh, boy, what was wrong with her? She was acting as if this was a date.

His gaze held hers for a long second, as if he were remembering their brief kiss. Or maybe that was just her memory working overtime. He stepped back, giving her room to leave her apartment. She released her pent-up breath and wondered if she was crazy to spend her day off with Ryan.

She liked him too much already. And she couldn’t bear the thought of giving him the power to hurt her.

No, she couldn’t allow herself to become emotionally involved with Ryan. The nurses called him The Heartbreaker for a reason.

Dear Reader,

As many of you know, I am a nurse by background and still work full-time at our local hospital.

Recently I was involved in a ‘Safe Haven’ baby situation. A young woman who gave birth at our hospital decided she couldn’t be a good mother and wanted to give her baby up for adoption. So far the State of Wisconsin has had eighty-four Safe Haven babies since the law was passed in 1994.

The situation I was involved in was very different from the one I describe in this story, Wanted: Parents for a Baby!, but the idea of writing my own Medical Romance about a Safe Haven baby kept popping into my head, nagging at me, until I simply had to sit down and put my ideas on paper. In some ways I think this book wrote itself!

I hope you enjoy Ryan and Cassie’s story as much as I do—and please drop by to visit my website at www.lauraiding.com if you have a moment. I always enjoy hearing from my readers.

Happy reading!

Laura Iding

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 when her parents insisted she get a ‘real’ career she turned to nursing—another truly rewarding job. After thirty 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 with her husband of nearly thirty years, and spends her time reading, writing and biking.

Wanted: Parents for a Baby!
Laura Iding

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to Michelle Lahey Reed, an amazing woman who opened her heart and her home to foster twin babies in need. You are truly an inspiration!

Table of Contents

Cover

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“CASSIE?” ALICE, THE neonatal intensive care unit clerk, called across the unit. “The ER is asking you to come down with the emergency warmer.”

“Really?” Neonatal nurse Cassandra Jordan glanced up from her computer in surprise. This was an interesting way to start her shift, and it was only Thursday. The unusual stuff mostly happened on the weekends. “Is there a pregnant woman waiting?”

“Not sure, but they asked you to hurry.”

Cassie nodded and quickly abandoned her charting, heading over to where they kept the portable warmer stocked with emergency equipment. “What about a physician?” she asked as she wheeled the warmer toward the door.

“Already paged him. Dr. Ryan should be there soon.”

Cassie’s stomach clenched with a mixture of dread and anticipation even as she tipped her head to indicate she understood. After wheeling the infant warmer into the hallway, she pushed the button for the elevator, relieved when the doors immediately opened.

Dr. Ryan Murphy was one of the best neonatal intensivists she’d ever worked with. Unfortunately, he was far too tall, dark and handsome for her peace of mind. Not to mention single. Widowed, to be exact. According to the gossip mill, he wasn’t interested in dating, much to the dismay of the single nurses working throughout the hospital.

To be fair, she wasn’t particularly interested in dating either—one deep betrayal and subsequent failed marriage had been enough to put her off men for a long time. But somehow in the six months that she’d been in Cedar Bluff, her body hadn’t seemed to get the message. Every time Dr. Ryan’s penetrating blue eyes met hers, her stomach did a series of backward flips and she blushed like a fool. She mentally cursed her fair skin for constantly betraying her.

The elevator doors dinged and opened on the ground level, so she wheeled the warmer out and quickly jogged down the hall to Cedar Bluff’s ER. There was a crowd of people gathered around the triage desk and, of course, Dr. Ryan’s dark head, clearly visible above the crowd, drew her gaze like a magnet. Even wearing blue scrubs and long white lab coat, he was distinctly noticeable.

He glanced over and caught sight of her, acknowledging her presence with a brief nod. He made a gesture with his hand. “Please, step back and make room for the equipment.”

Like the parting of the Red Sea, the group of people split down the middle to give Cassie the access she needed. She focused on the infant car seat that was propped on the desktop and frowned as she registered the fact that the baby was letting out a terrible high-pitched cry. “What happened? Where’s the mother?”

“She left,” Dr. Ryan said shortly. “This little girl is only a day or two old and desperately needs medical care. We need to get her in the warmer so I can examine her.”

“Her name is Emma,” Gloria, the ER nurse at the triage desk, supplied helpfully. “The mother said she was unfit and asked me to take care of Emma.”

Pretty name, Cassie thought as she quickly plugged in the warmer and turned on the heat lamps. She cracked open the oxygen tank and connected the tubing while Dr. Ryan lifted the tiny infant from the car seat. He set her gently in the center of the warmer, and the baby’s arms and legs flailed about in protest.

Emma’s high-pitched cry wasn’t easy to ignore, but Cassie focused on setting up the open end of the oxygen tubing so it would gently stream past her tiny nose and mouth. Dr. Ryan undressed the baby, who was wearing clean yet well-worn clothing, his fingers looking ridiculously large in contrast to the tiny baby. Using his stethoscope, he listened to Emma’s heart and lungs. Cassie placed small EKG patches on the baby’s bare chest and their fingers brushed as they both worked over the small torso.

Cassie ignored the tingling sensation that rippled up her arms at his touch and peered at the cardiac monitor, making note of the baby’s heart rate, which was higher than normal.

“Her lungs are clear,” Dr. Ryan said in a low tone. “But she has hyperactive bowel sounds.”

Cassie gave a nod. “Yes, she’s also tachy, in the one-eighties. Dehydrated, perhaps?”

“Maybe,” he agreed. “But could indicate something more serious. We don’t have any history on the mother, unless we’re lucky enough that the baby was born here. Let’s get her upstairs to the NNICU. She’ll need an IV and labs drawn.”

“Okay. I’ll check the records when we get upstairs, but I don’t think she was born here. I’ve been on the past three days and would have remembered.” Cassie disconnected the electrical cord and switched the warmer to battery power. “Ready? Let’s go.”

Dr. Ryan walked along on the opposite side of the warmer. Cassie steered the warmer while he kept a keen eye on Emma’s heart rate.

The elevator seemed to take longer this time, or maybe she was just acutely aware of Dr. Ryan standing next to her while listening to Emma’s high-pitched crying. Her maternal instincts wanted her to pick the baby up and cradle her to her chest, but that wasn’t possible just yet. When the elevator doors finally opened, she pushed the warmer inside with a sense of relief.

The doors closed and the elevator began rising to the third floor when Emma’s high-pitched cries abruptly trailed off and stopped. Cassie stared in shock as the heart monitor began triple-beeping in alarm as the baby’s heart rate shot up to two hundred beats per minute.

“She’s not breathing,” Cassie said, grabbing the emergency airway kit.

“Hand me the Ambu bag, I’ll try to support her that way,” he said.

She nodded, handing over the tiny Ambu bag and then connecting it to the oxygen tank. Her gaze darted between the heart monitor and Emma as he pressed the bag over Emma’s nose and mouth, giving several breaths.

“It’s working,” she whispered. “Her heart rate is dropping back to the one-eighties.”

“Good.” Dr. Ryan’s intense gaze met hers and for a moment she saw a flash of relief and camaraderie reflected there.

She tore her gaze away to glance down at the baby. “Poor thing doesn’t have anyone to care about her,” she murmured.

“She has us,” Dr. Ryan said firmly. “We care about her. And we’re going to do everything possible to help her.”

She caught her breath at the emotion shimmering in Dr. Ryan’s eyes but the moment vanished as the elevator door opened on the third floor. She pushed the warmer down the hall slowly enough to allow Dr. Ryan the ability to walk alongside while providing breathing support for the baby.

When they entered the NNICU, Cassie headed toward the critical-care end of the twenty-bed nursery, knowing that it was possible Emma would eventually require ventilator support for her breathing.

“Cassandra, I hear you’re the best, so will you please start an IV?” Dr. Ryan asked as soon as they were situated.

“Of course.” Getting IVs placed in babies wasn’t easy, but it happened to be one of her best skills. The other nurses often asked her to start their IVs for them, so it shouldn’t have surprised her that Dr. Ryan was aware of her talent. She could feel her cheeks getting warm and tried to keep her head down as she gathered supplies.

She managed to find a vein in Emma’s left arm and quickly placed the catheter. Unfortunately, peripheral IVs generally didn’t last long in babies, twenty-four hours at the most, so the poor thing would likely need a new catheter placed tomorrow.

“What rate do you want the fluids to run at?” she asked, as she protected the catheter site with a plastic medicine cup cut in half and taped over the baby’s arm so Emma couldn’t dislodge it by accident.

“You have the IV placed already?” Dr. Ryan asked in surprise. “Good job. Let’s start with five ccs per hour for now.”

Cassie nodded and turned away to adjust the IV pump in an effort to hide her flaming cheeks. Ridiculous to respond like a high school cheerleader working with the star quarterback of the football team. It wasn’t as if Dr. Ryan had given her a personal compliment.

In fact, the nurses all talked about how nice it was to work with him, despite the fact that he kept an invisible but impermeable wall between himself and the rest of the staff. She’d heard a few of the nurses had tried to ask him out, only to be gently but firmly rebuffed.

Her hormones needed to get a grip on reality.

“Let’s see if she’ll breathe on her own now,” Dr. Ryan murmured, as he removed the Ambu bag and face mask from Emma.

Cassie leaned forward, watching the baby closely for a few minutes. She was just about to turn away when things changed abruptly, just like they had in the elevator. Emma’s breathing became shallow and her pulse skyrocketed.

“Give her a tenth of a milligram of midazolam,” Dr. Ryan ordered in a grim tone. “I need to intubate.”

“I’ll get the meds,” her coworker, Diane, piped up.

Cassie pulled out the intubation equipment while Dr. Ryan continued to breathe for Emma using the Ambu bag. When Diane returned a few minutes later, she held up the syringe for Cassie to verify the dose of the medication before injecting it into Emma’s IV.

“Midazolam is in,” Diane announced.

Cassie handed Dr. Ryan the tiny endotracheal tube. She found herself holding her breath, his words from the elevator echoing in her mind.

She has us. We care about her.

Soon Dr. Ryan had deftly placed the breathing tube down Emma’s airway, a task that sounded simple but wasn’t at all, not when working on a newborn baby. His large and capable fingers were never clumsy.

The entire procedure didn’t take more than a few minutes and Cassie quickly secured the tube in place while Dr. Ryan held it steady. Nancy Kramer, the respiratory therapist, was manning the ventilator. “What settings do you want?” she asked.

He rattled off the parameters he wanted then turned toward Cassie. “I need you to get a set of arterial blood gases and a full drug screen.”

“A drug screen?” Cassie glanced at what she could see of Emma’s tiny face, half-covered with the endotracheal tube holder. “You think her mother was a drug addict?”

“Yes, I hate to say it, but I have a strong suspicion. The mother dropped the baby off in the ER, saying she wasn’t a fit mother for Emma, and then left. Under the safe-haven law, we can’t go after the mother to obtain a medical history, so we have to figure out what’s going on ourselves. That high-pitched crying and the way she stopped breathing is a classic sign of narcotic withdrawal. We’ll also need to keep an eye out for seizures. Run the lab work and call me with the results.”

Cassie nodded, feeling sick to her stomach. She had to admit Emma’s high-pitched cry did sound similar to those of the two other babies she’d cared for early in her career who’d been going through withdrawal. And the timing was right, too. No doubt the baby’s mother hadn’t been able to stand the baby’s constant crying, which had likely gotten worse over the hours since the baby’s birth.

She’d asked Alice to go through the records to see if Emma had been born at their hospital, but soon discovered she was right, there was no record that matched this baby. So where had Emma’s mother given birth? At home? Was she a resident of Cedar Bluff?

Even though Cassie had only worked at Cedar Bluff Hospital for the past six months she knew a safe-haven baby was a rare occurrence. Obviously they did get them, but not often.

She was glad Emma’s mother had been unselfish enough to give up her baby, rather than neglect her or, worse, hurt the child.

Still, it wasn’t easy to see how some mothers would easily give their babies away, when others, like herself, had been unable to carry one to term.

A loss that still left an empty feeling inside her.

Ryan strode out of the NNICU, a dull roaring echoing in his ears.

He knew the baby’s blood tests would turn out positive for opiates. Thankfully he hadn’t cared for drug-addicted babies often, but the few times he had were seared into his memory.

But worst of all, Emma was a painful reminder of the fact that if his son had lived, he would have made that same, high-pitched cry. Would have been born addicted to narcotics and would have suffered the same symptoms of opiate withdrawal.

At least Emma had been given a chance to survive. And, hopefully, thrive.

A chance his son hadn’t been given.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, trying to freeze out the horrible memories and the deep stabbing guilt. Three years had passed, yet the image of Victoria’s pale, cold, lifeless face still haunted him.

He should have known. Somehow he should have known his wife had been addicted to painkillers. How had he missed the signs? Had he really been that blind to what had been going on?

Why hadn’t he figured out the truth before it was too late? Before he’d found his wife and unborn son dead in the front seat of her car?

His fault. His son’s premature death was his fault.

The elevator doors opened, and he pulled himself together, trying to remember where he was going. Oh, yeah, back to the ER. He doubted anyone would remember more than what he’d already been told but he felt compelled to ask.

The triage nurse—what was her name, Gloria?—was still sitting where he’d left her. “What do you remember about the mother?” he asked bluntly.

Gloria didn’t seem too surprised by his question. “She had stringy blond hair and was young, not a teenager, maybe early to midtwenties? Her skin was super pale, as if she never stepped outside into the sun. And she wore long sleeves. Her arms shaking as if the car seat was too heavy for her.”

Definitely drugs, he thought with a sigh. “Did she look at all familiar?”

“Not to me or anyone else who caught a glimpse of her. But I bet once the word gets out someone will come forward. Everyone knows everyone else’s business in this town.”

He nodded, knowing she spoke the truth. “Have the police been notified?”

Gloria thought for a minute. “I don’t think so, to be honest. All I could think of was to get the NNICU team down here as quickly as possible. The way the baby was crying scared me.”

He couldn’t fault Gloria’s logic. “All right, I’ll give them a call.” Emma’s mother couldn’t get into trouble for dropping off her baby at the hospital, but he figured the police should know about the possible drug connection.

And they’d have to get social services involved to find placement for the baby, too.

He walked to his office, seeking privacy to make his calls. First he notified the social worker on duty, who readily agreed to begin working on a temporary guardian and foster placement for Emma once she was stable enough for discharge. When he finished with that he debated between calling the police now or waiting until he had the actual test results.

A glance at his watch confirmed it was too late to get the drug-test results today as it was already five-thirty in the evening and drug tests were specialized enough that they couldn’t be run on a stat basis. They’d be available in the morning, but he didn’t want to wait that long to call the police. The sooner they knew about the issue, the better.

He dialed the sheriff’s department, knowing the number by heart, and requested to be put through to a detective.

“This is Detective Trammel. What seems to be the problem?”

Of course Trammel would be the one on duty. Trammel had been the detective assigned to investigate Victoria’s death. Ryan tightened his grip on the phone and tried to keep his voice steady. “This is Dr. Murphy at Cedar Bluff Hospital. I need to report we have a safe-haven baby here,” Ryan informed him. “She was dropped off a little over an hour ago by a young woman with blond hair, roughly in her midtwenties.”

“Dr. Murphy?” Detective Trammel echoed. “Dr. Ryan Murphy?”

“Yes.” He knew that he wasn’t a suspect any longer, but that first month after Victoria’s death he’d been at the top of Trammel’s list. Logically he understood that the police had wanted to rule out foul play, but it hadn’t been easy to hold his head up within their small, tight-knit community.

Even three years later, it wasn’t easy. But he hadn’t wanted to leave, not until he’d uncovered the truth about the source of Victoria’s drugs. He’d almost given up hope. Until now.

“How are you doing?” Detective Trammel asked, as if they were old friends. But they weren’t. Not by a long shot.

“Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. “You should know that I’ve already contacted the social worker, who’s getting Child Protective Services involved.”

“Okay, thanks. Wow, a safe-haven baby. We haven’t had one of those in almost four years.”

Ryan battled a wave of annoyance. This wasn’t exactly a social call. “You need to know that I suspect the baby is addicted to drugs,” he said bluntly. “We’re running tests now.”

A heavy silence hung between them and he imagined Detective Trammel finally figuring out why Ryan had bothered to make the call personally. “Okay, thanks for letting me know,” the detective said finally. “But it’s tricky to go after the mother in these situations. The safe-haven law offers protection, although there is wiggle room in cases of abuse.”

“I’m well aware of the law,” he said in a terse tone. “And I don’t want to go after the mother per se. But what if we find that the baby was addicted to prescription narcotics? Don’t you think that’s something to be concerned about? Shouldn’t we look for her supplier?”

“Your drug tests can’t give that level of detail,” Trammel protested.

He reined in his temper with an effort. “No, but the state lab in Madison could.”

Another long silence. “Dr. Murphy, I told you before that we investigated the prescription-drug angle after your wife’s death. There’s no evidence of a prescription drug ring operating here in Cedar Bluff. Trust me, I’d know if there were.”

Ryan felt his shoulders sag in defeat. He didn’t believe the detective, yet there was nothing he could say that would change his mind, either. Because he didn’t have proof.

Just a gut-level certainty he was right.

“Listen, Dr. Murphy, it’s been almost three years and I know it’s difficult, but you need to move on with your life.”

For an instant the image of Cassie’s heart-shaped face, long chocolate-brown hair and warm brown eyes flashed in his mind. But he impatiently shoved it away.

“Let me know if the mother comes forward for some reason,” he said to Detective Trammel, changing the subject. “Having some sort of medical history would be helpful.”

“I will.”

Ryan hung up the phone and sat back in his chair with a weary sigh. The detective was wrong—he had moved on with his life. He worked, and played softball in the summer and basketball in the winter with several other physicians on staff. So what if he avoided going out with women? He’d tried about a year or so ago, but the entire event had been a disaster. He’d wanted no-strings sex, but apparently that wasn’t what Shana had wanted, despite the fact she’d assured him she did.

Even worse, the debacle had spread throughout Cedar Bluff Hospital. Staff whispering behind his back had only reminded him of that terrible time after Victoria’s death.

No, getting tangled up with a woman wasn’t part of his plan. No matter how tempted he might be, at least when it came to Cassie. And she was doubly off limits, since they worked together.

No, he had to remain focused on the issues at hand. He wished Detective Trammel had found some evidence of a prescription-drug ring in Cedar Bluff.

Because he wouldn’t mind sharing a bit of the guilt that still weighed heavily on his shoulders over the deaths of his wife and unborn son.

CHAPTER TWO

CASSIE HOVERED OVER Emma’s warmer, lightly stroking the tip of her finger down the baby’s downy soft cheek, as much as she could around the breathing-tube holder.

Emma F. Safe Haven, the name they’d given her, was doing a great job of hanging in there. No sign of seizures yet, but Cassie was afraid that if she took her eye off the baby for an instant she’d miss the telltale jerky movements.

The good news so far was that Emma’s blood gases had come back well within normal range. She’d placed a page in to Dr. Ryan to share the results. Maybe they could work on weaning the baby off the ventilator. They’d have to go slowly, because removing the tube, only to replace it a few hours later, would be traumatic and possibly cause damage to Emma’s tiny airway. However, getting the baby off the vent was also better for Emma’s lungs in the long run.

Finding the right balance was always tricky.

Cassie lingered a few minutes longer, wishing she could give Emma more of her attention, but then had to leave to care for the other baby assigned to her care. Thankfully Barton was stable. He’d been born four weeks too early, but was gaining weight and coming along nicely. He still had a couple instances of five seconds or longer of apnea, a common problem in preemies, but so far he’d gone twelve hours without any shallow breathing recorded on the monitor. If that trend continued, in another day or two he’d be ready to move up to the level-two nursery. And soon be discharged home.

She quickly changed Barton’s soiled diaper and then disconnected him from the heart monitor for his feeding. She sank into a rocker she’d pulled over near Emma’s warmer so she could keep an eye on Emma while giving Barton his bottle. Normally they encouraged the parents to come in for the feedings, but Barton’s mother had mentioned she might be later than normal today because she had to wait for her husband to get home from being out of town. She’d had an emergency C-section and hadn’t been cleared to drive yet.

“Aren’t you a good boy,” she cooed, as Barton eagerly sucked at his bottle. “You’re going to grow up to be big and strong, just like your daddy.”

She sensed someone’s gaze on her and looked up to find Dr. Ryan standing a few feet away, staring at her. For a second she thought she saw a distinctive longing reflected in his eyes, but in a flash the moment was gone and the polite yet distant expression had returned to his eyes.

“Emma’s blood gases look great, and I’ve entered new orders to drop her ventilator settings,” he said brusquely. “Should I ask the unit clerk to page the respiratory therapist?”

“I’d appreciate that, if you don’t mind. I’ll be here for a while yet.” More proof that Dr. Ryan was a great doctor. He didn’t think menial tasks were beneath him. Or maybe he was simply anxious to get Emma’s vent settings changed. “So far I haven’t seen any evidence of seizures.”

“Good. You’ll probably get a call from Child Protective Services, I put them on notice about Emma.”

“Oh, okay.” Cassie suppressed a flash of disappointment. Of course calling CPS was the right thing to do. “I guess, once she’s stable, Emma will end up in foster care, then,” she murmured, trying to hide the wistfulness in her tone. She had no right to be so emotionally attached to Emma. The baby wasn’t hers to love and to care for. Except here, at work.

Dr. Ryan’s lips tightened in a grim line. “I imagine so.”

She couldn’t say anything past the lump of regret lodged in her throat. Ridiculous to think she could become a foster parent for Emma. For one thing, there was a long process, including classes to take, along with other hoops to jump through, before she’d be granted that privilege. Even then, she knew that a married couple would have a better shot of getting custody of Emma than a single parent such as her.

Barton turned his face away from the bottle, reminding her it was time for a burp. She lifted him up, turned him and placed him against her shoulder, rubbing her hand in soothing circles over his back. She couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against his downy temple, enjoying the scent of baby shampoo that clung to his skin. He squirmed a bit and made gurgling noises before letting out a loud belch.

“Good boy,” she praised him with a wide smile. Gently she turned the baby round so she could try to give him the rest of his bottle. He was still pretty tiny, less than five pounds, so he usually only took a small portion of his bottle at each feeding.

“You’re a natural,” Dr. Ryan said in a low tone.

The longing to have a baby of her own stabbed deeply, but she pushed it away with an effort. Her cheeks warmed and she cursed herself for responding to every little thing Dr. Ryan said. He had no way of knowing that she’d miscarried twice before her marriage had shattered into irreparable pieces. “Thanks.”

Abruptly he turned and walked toward the unit clerk’s desk. She overheard him requesting the respiratory therapist on duty to be paged for vent setting changes.

Little Barton took another ounce before thrusting the nipple out of his mouth, indicating he wasn’t interested in any more. She mentally calculated the total, pleased that he’d taken a half-ounce more at this feeding.

As she returned Barton to his bassinet and cranked on the mobile that hung over his head, she noticed Dr. Ryan was standing over Emma’s warmer. She assumed that he was checking the baby’s vital signs but as she approached she noticed that her little pink knit hat was off and he was softly stroking his thumb over Emma’s downy head, murmuring softly.

“You’re going to be fine, pretty girl. You’ll see.”

His words made tears prick her eyes and she subtly wiped them away. Dr. Ryan had called her a natural, but right now she was thinking the same about him. He was gazing down at Emma as if the baby was important on a personal level, rather than just another patient.

She hesitated, wondering if she was intruding, but he must have sensed her presence. He glanced at her and gently tugged the pink knit cap over Emma’s head. “Do you need to get in here?” he asked.

“Yes, I need to check her vitals again,” she said, trying to deal with her bizarre reaction to him. “But I can wait until you’re finished.”

“No, go ahead,” he said, stepping back to give her plenty of room.

She avoided his gaze and tucked the buds of her stethoscope into her ears, taking her time to listen to Emma’s heart, lungs and abdomen. When she straightened and pulled off the stethoscope, she caught Dr. Ryan’s intense gaze resting on her once again.

She grappled for something intelligent to say. “Everything sounds good, but her bowel sounds are still hyperactive.”

“I know. I’m reluctant to begin feeding her until we know for sure she won’t start having seizures,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “But if things continue to go well, I’ll insert a feeding tube for bolus feedings.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed. Since he was still logged on to the computer, she gestured toward it. “Do you need the computer?”

“Not at all.” He leaned over to log off with quick keystrokes and she caught a whiff of his woodsy aftershave, the heady scent wreaking havoc with her senses. He stepped back, giving her room to sit, but he was still far too close for comfort.

Cassie tried to concentrate on documenting Emma’s assessment, but it wasn’t easy. She made several spelling mistakes, requiring her to backspace several times to fix them.

Why wouldn’t he leave? Was he reading her charting, double-checking her work? Surely he had better things to do. Better places to be other than here.

Validating vital signs was easier, merely requiring a point and click, and she was nearly finished when she heard him say her name in that deep, husky voice of his.

“Cassandra.”

She couldn’t seem to untie her tongue enough to tell him he could call her Cassie. After all, he insisted everyone call him by his first name, even though most continued to use his formal title, too. She glanced up, only to find his gaze glued to Emma.

Immediately, she rose to her feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Get me point two milligrams of midazolam and a half milligram of phenobarbital. Emma is having a seizure.”

Cassie’s heart plunged to the pit of her stomach as she rushed over to the medication dispensing machine to get the medication.

She dashed back to Emma’s warmer, holding each of the syringes up for him to see. “Point two milligrams of midazolam,” she said. “And a half milligram of phenobarb.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

She gently injected the medications into Emma’s IV then watched the baby’s heart rate on the monitor.

She couldn’t prevent an overwhelming sense of dread. Seizures were a bad sign. If they continued, there was a chance that Emma might suffer permanent brain damage.

The little girl could even die.

She has us. We care about her.

Cassie strengthened her resolve to do everything possible to make sure Emma had the best chance to survive.

Ryan shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat, hating every moment of feeling helpless.

This poor baby might not make it to her first birthday, all because her mother hadn’t sought help for her addiction.

Anger was useless, so he did his best to breathe it away, keeping an eye on his patient instead. The medication worked and, thankfully, Emma’s jerky movements stopped.

“I’m going to order the phenobarb to be given every six hours,” he told Cassie. “And an EEG, too.”

Cassie looked as upset as he felt, obviously already growing attached to their safe-haven baby. The same way he was. That moment in the elevator, when Cassie had mentioned the baby didn’t have anyone to care about her, had tugged at his heart.

In the three years since losing Victoria and his son, he’d been able to keep a certain emotional distance from his tiny patients. Easy enough to do, as most of the time the babies got better and went home with their parents and families.

But knowing Emma was alone in the world made him feel differently towards her. He knew he was becoming emotionally involved with their safe-haven baby. And not just because she was sick enough to require his focused attention.

Because almost from the first moment he’d seen her, the little girl had found a way to break through the barriers surrounding what Shana had described as his stone-cold heart.

“Oh, Emma,” Cassie murmured, stroking the baby’s cheek. “You’ve got to fight this, sweetpea. We’re going to help you fight this.”

His heart squeezed at the tears shimmering in Cassie’s eyes. From the first day she’d started working here—had it just been a few months ago?—he’d noticed her creamy skin, heart-shaped face, bright brown eyes and long dark hair that she always drew back in a ponytail at work, not to mention her curvy figure, mostly hidden beneath her baggy scrubs. What man wouldn’t?

Look, but don’t touch. That was his motto. Especially since the Shana debacle.

Yet for some reason, seeing Cassie cooing over the babies, especially Emma, hit him right in the center of his solar plexus.

He was irresistibly drawn to her. Had been from the moment they’d begun to work together. Resisting her was becoming more and more difficult. Maybe because she was the complete opposite in every way from Victoria. He’d never told anyone his deepest fear, that Victoria wouldn’t have made a very good mother. Not the way Cassie would. She clearly loved her tiny patients.

Victoria had loved being a doctor’s wife. Had loved entertaining guests and spending his money. He wasn’t sure how she’d managed to keep herself busy every day, working out at the gym and then lunching with her friends.

When she’d blown out her Achilles tendon after a spin class, he’d supported her through surgery, impressed at how determined she’d been to get back to her normal routine. Even after she discovered she was pregnant, she didn’t cut back on her exercise regimen. In fact, he suspected she’d doubled it in an effort to avoid gaining too much weight.

He’d gone back through his memories of that time often, trying to identify the signs he’d missed. But he’d been busy at work, taking everything Victoria had told him at face value.

Never suspecting, until far too late, that she’d become addicted to the painkillers the orthopedic surgeon had initially prescribed.

He shook off the past and forced himself to focus on the present. Just because he was deeply attracted to Cassie, it didn’t mean he had any intention of acting on it. She was young, full of life and could do better than a broken man like him. He didn’t plan to ever have a family of his own. He didn’t deserve a second chance.

Forcing himself to turn away, he went over to a different computer, far away from the one Cassie had been using, to enter the medication orders. When he’d finished, he sat down to scroll through his other patients’ charts.

It took him a few minutes to realize he was stalling. Ridiculous to think about waiting around here until the end of Cassie’s shift. Just because he was on call, it didn’t mean he shouldn’t take advantage of the downtime to get some rest.

But before he could leave, his pager went off, announcing a pending crash C-section.

Rest would have to wait. “We need an emergency warmer down in the OR,” he said.

“I’m ready,” Diane said, hurrying toward him with the equipment. He knew that Cassie was already tied up with Emma and Barton, so he wasn’t surprised that Diana was the nurse up for the next admission.

He strode purposefully toward the door, managing to resist the urge to glance back once more at Cassie.

She and Emma would be fine.

A few minutes later he entered the OR, where a laboring mother was lying on the table, her eyes full of fear. “Save my baby,” she pleaded as the anesthesiologist tried to cover her mouth and nose with an oxygen mask. “Save my baby!”

“She has a prolapsed umbilical cord,” Dr. Eden Graves informed him. “We need to move fast.”

“Understood,” he agreed. “I’m ready as soon as you are.”

Leaving Diane to prepare their equipment, he walked over to look at the fetal monitoring strip. There were several steep decelerations present, indicating severe fetal bradycardia. He noted that the sharp drop in the fetal pulse coincided with highest portion of the uterine contractions. Classic sign of a prolapsed umbilical cord.

“Tip her uterus so that the pressure isn’t on her cervix,” he instructed.

“I did, but you’re right, we could use more blankets to prop beneath her bottom.”

A couple of nurses came over to assist and soon the patient was ready. The anesthesiologist gave Eden the high sign and she quickly began the procedure.

The baby was removed from the uterus within five minutes, and the minute the cord was cut he quickly took the infant over to the warmer. The baby boy wasn’t too limp and quickly pinked up as they worked on him.

When the baby let out a wail, there was a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room.

“Let me know what the cord blood gases show,” he said to the circulating nurse in the room. “Page me with the results.”

“Okay.”

He finished his assessment with Diane’s help and then deemed the infant stable enough for transport up to the neonatal nursery. Even though the baby boy looked fine for the moment, he intended to watch the infant for a few hours upstairs.

It was a good feeling to save a baby’s life. Even though deep down he knew that no matter how many he saved, he’d always mourn the one that mattered most.

The son he’d lost.

Cassie was thankful Emma didn’t show any more signs of seizures and the EEG tech seemed to think the test looked relatively normal. Of course, they needed the neurologist to read the test to know for sure, but she decided to remain optimistic.

Barton’s parents were here, holding their son, so she decided this was a good time to take a quick break.

“Sally, would you mind keeping an eye on Emma for a few minutes? I’d like to run down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat.”

“Sure, that’s fine. But we’re expecting that new baby to arrive within the next thirty minutes so make it quick, okay?”

“I will.” She’d perfected the art of eating fast, to minimize disrupting patient care.

Leaving the unit, she took the stairs down to the cafeteria level. The grill line was too long, so she went over to the salad bar to make herself a quick grilled-chicken salad and fill a large cup with ice water. The hardest thing about working second shift was the inability to fall asleep once she got home, and the last thing she needed was the added impact of caffeine zipping through her system.

She sat down at a small table near the back of the cafeteria and quickly dug into her salad. A few nurses greeted her, but none of them lingered. Obviously the whole hospital was busy, not just her neonatal unit.

She kept an eye on her watch as she ate, knowing she needed to return to the unit before Dr. Ryan brought over his latest patient.

With any luck he’d be busy with the new admission for a while, giving her some badly needed breathing space. She really didn’t understand what her problem was around him. There were plenty of other single guys around. James Green, one of the ER doctors, had asked her out just last month.

Too bad she hadn’t felt one iota of interest in him. She’d politely declined James’s offer, refusing to feel bad at the dejected expression in his eyes.

Her divorce had only been final for a little over a year. Six months ago she’d moved to Cedar Bluff to start afresh. It was too soon to enter the dating scene.

So why was she always so keenly aware of Dr. Ryan Murphy?

No clue. She shook her head, scraping the bottom of her salad bowl to get the last bit, before wiping her mouth with a napkin and rising to her feet.

Ten minutes. Not bad, she mused as she headed back toward the elevators. Walking up three flights of stairs seemed daunting after she’d practically inhaled her meal, so she took an elevator up.

She got off the elevator on the third floor and headed down the east hallway toward the neonatal unit.

Cassie frowned when she saw an older woman, probably in her midsixties, leaning heavily on a cane near the doorway. It looked as if the woman was trying to peer through the small window to see inside the unit.

“Good evening. Can I help you with something?” Cassie asked.

The woman started badly, spinning around so quickly she almost lost her balance. Cassie darted forward to slide a supportive arm around the woman’s waist.

“Easy there, I don’t want you to fall,” Cassie said. “Is there something you need? Are you waiting to go in to visit?”

“Oh, no. I’m not waiting to visit. I … um …” The woman seemed flustered and avoided her gaze. “I was visiting a friend and thought I’d come over to peek at the babies. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break any rules.”

Since the woman obviously felt bad, Cassie decided she wouldn’t push it. “That’s okay, but you can’t go in there unless you’re related to one of the babies. It’s a locked unit to protect them from being taken.”

“Oh, of course. I—I’m sorry. I have to go.” The woman took a step and leaned on her cane, making her way back toward the elevators. Cassie waited a moment, watching her.

It wasn’t until she was back at Emma’s bedside that she realized the woman might have being trying to catch a glimpse of Emma. Surely the news of their safe-haven baby had already spread throughout the small town of Cedar Bluff.

She wished she’d asked the woman for her name. Had she been peeking into the unit out of pure curiosity?

Or because she knew Emma’s mother?

CHAPTER THREE

RYAN KEPT A close eye on the newborn baby boy for the next hour, relieved when the umbilical-cord blood-gas results weren’t as bad as he’d feared.

The infant seemed to be doing well, so he drifted over to where Cassie was working with Emma.

“How’s Emma doing?” he asked.

“Good,” she said with a tired smile. “I haven’t seen any seizure activity since we started her on the medication.”

“Glad to hear it.” He forced himself to tear his gaze away from her to focus on the baby, although he was very much aware of Cassie’s warm vanilla scent. “Isn’t your shift ending soon?”

“In another hour,” she agreed. “I was supposed to be off tomorrow, but one of the nurses called in sick, so I agreed to come back for the day shift. Gives me a good excuse to check up on Emma.”

He wasn’t surprised she’d agreed to come back in less than eight hours. Over the past few months he’d discovered Cassie was always jumping in to help cover shifts as needed.

Despite his attempts to keep his distance, he found himself curious about why she devoted so much time and energy to her work. He sensed she was using work as a distraction from not having a personal life, the same way he was.

He told himself the similarities between them didn’t matter, since he wasn’t interested in having a relationship.

“They should let you leave early,” he said with a frown. “You deserve to get some rest.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I’ve doubled back before and it’s not too bad.”

He was hardly in a position to argue, since his job required him to be on call often. Too often, according to Victoria, who’d accused him of staying late at work on purpose. Had he? Looking back now, he had to admit there may have been a kernel of truth to Victoria’s accusations.

He thrust the useless guilt aside. “I’m going to get some rest in the call room, but page me if you need anything.”

“We will. But don’t worry, I promise we won’t bother you unless it’s important.”

For a moment he was taken aback by her statement. Was she actually trying to protect him? The concept was so foreign he could barely wrap his mind around it. “Call me anytime,” he corrected, before turning away.

The attending physicians’ call room was located just outside the neonatal intensive care unit, close enough for emergency situations but with enough soundproofing to be able to get some sleep.

Ryan kept his scrubs on as he stretched out on the narrow bed, so that he could rush out in a hurry for an emergency. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths in an effort to relax.

Unfortunately, Cassie’s face, etched with the deeply caring expression he’d seen while feeding Barton, bloomed in his mind. He cursed under his breath, knowing that if he didn’t find a way to pry her out of his mind, he’d never get any sleep.

Too bad Cassie wasn’t the type to go for a nice sweaty bout of no-strings sex. Because unfortunately, since he’d destroyed his chance to have a family, that’s all he had left to offer.

Cassie groaned when her alarm went off at the ungodly hour of six o’clock in the morning. It felt as if she’d barely fallen asleep, as she’d tossed and turned until well past midnight, her thoughts darting from Dr. Ryan to Emma and back again. With a heavy sigh she dragged herself out of bed and stumbled toward the shower.

The hot water helped wake her up, although she wouldn’t be human until she’d downed her first cup of coffee. Since blow-drying her hair would take too long, she pulled it back into a ponytail and applied enough makeup to cover the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Volunteering to help out had seemed like a good idea at the time, but in the bright light of morning she couldn’t help wondering what in the world she’d been thinking.

Caring for Emma. That’s what she’d been thinking.

Staring at the empty coffeepot, she realized grimly that she hadn’t turned it on last night before crawling into bed. Feeling a bit desperate, she decided to stop at the local corner coffee shop before heading to the hospital.

The place was far more crowded than she’d have expected this early on a Friday morning. Although maybe the tourist crowd liked to get an early start. There wasn’t any drive-through service, not since someone had knocked over the post holding the intercom and speaker, so she took her place in line, hoping things would move quickly.

Of course, they didn’t. She glanced at her watch for the third time, thinking she should give up gourmet coffee for the icky stuff they brewed at work, when a second line opened up. “I can help the next person?” a woman called out.

The woman in front of Cassie darted over and she followed, figuring it would be quicker. Another person came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder.

“Hey, Cass, how are you?”

Cassie glanced over her shoulder to see Gloria, her friend from the ER, standing behind her. “Good. How are you?”

“Fine. How’s our safe-haven baby?” Gloria asked in a low tone.

“Critical but stable,” she replied, knowing that the privacy laws prevented them from discussing patients. Although small towns like Cedar Bluff had a hard time with the concept of privacy. Everyone liked to meddle in everyone else’s business.

“Oh, I heard about that,” the woman in front of her said, turning around with her large coffee in hand. “Everyone’s trying to figure out who the mother is.”

Cassie shrugged and edged around the woman so she could place her order. “Large mocha coffee, please.” She glanced back at the nosy woman. “The mother has the right to be anonymous, so I doubt we’ll ever find out who she was. Besides, she did a good thing, giving her baby a chance at a better life.”

“Cassie’s right.” Gloria spoke up, flashing Cassie an apologetic smile. “We should be thankful. I’m sure someone will step forward to adopt the baby.”

“I guess you’re right,” the woman said, looking resigned at the fact she wasn’t getting any good information.

Cassie turned back to accept her coffee, wishing once again that she’d gone through the process of becoming a foster parent back when she’d first investigated the option. At the time she’d convinced herself the notion was a knee-jerk reaction to losing her baby and discovering her ex-husband’s betrayal. But if she had at least started the process, she’d be in a better position to adopt little Emma herself.

Was she crazy to even think of that as an option? Probably. But for some reason the idea wouldn’t go away.

Cassie took a bracing sip of her coffee and headed back out to her car. The drive to the hospital didn’t take long and she was still early enough to beat the worst of the traffic.

She stood by the elevator, sipping her coffee and thinking about the gossip that was already floating around about their safe-haven baby. If the mother was still around, she sincerely hoped the poor girl didn’t overhear people talking about her.

Several of her coworkers joined her at the elevator, although it was too early for idle chitchat. When the elevator stopped on the third floor, Cassie waited for the nurses closest to the door to get out first, before following suit.

As she stepped out of the elevator she caught a glimpse of an older woman with a cane entering the adjacent elevator. Was it the same woman who had been peering through the window of the door last evening? She tried to dart around her coworkers, but the action proved difficult, like a salmon swimming upstream. By the time she cleared the group, the elevator doors had closed.

She hesitated, wondering if she should take the stairs down to the lobby to verify it was the same woman from yesterday. But a glance at her watch made her grimace. There wasn’t enough time, she needed to punch in for her shift or she’d be late.

Besides, selfishly, she wanted to be sure Emma was assigned as her patient. So she hurried toward the door and swiped her ID badge over the electronic eye so she could get in.

Still carrying her coffee, she entered the staff lounge, where they generally congregated to make out the day’s assignments. After glancing up at the whiteboard, she relaxed. The charge nurse on duty had already listed her name as the nurse for both Emma and Barton.

She sipped her coffee, waiting for the rest of the assignments to be made. Should she call security? And report what? A suspicious woman in her early sixties who used a cane?

Yeah, right. She was being ridiculous. For all she knew, the woman getting into the elevator wasn’t the same one as the day before. And even if it was, so what? She’d mentioned she was here, visiting a patient. There were other units on the third floor besides the neonatal nursery.

Cassie pushed the thought of the cane lady out of her mind. Once the assignments were pretty much completed, she set her coffee aside, grabbed her stethoscope from her locker and headed over to Emma’s warmer.

Her step faltered when she realized Dr. Ryan was sitting at the computer, reading through the baby’s progress notes.

You are not a slave to your hormones, she told herself sternly. You need to get over him already!

She forced herself to continue walking, even as she swept her gaze over the area, looking for Debra, the night-shift nurse, who needed to give her the update on how Emma was doing.

“Good morning, Cassandra.”

She blushed, giving him a nod. “Good morning, Dr. Ryan, and, please, call me Cassie.”

There, she’d finally managed to sound casual, as if he were any other physician on staff.

“Only if you call me Ryan. And as you have such a beautiful name, it’s a shame to shorten it.” For a moment she felt her jaw drop in shock and did her best to close her mouth so she didn’t look like a gaping fish. She was relieved when he changed the subject. “Emma’s doing well this morning. I think we’ll try to wean her a bit from the vent.”

Okay, patient care she could handle. She took a deep breath. “That sounds like a good plan. What about nutrition?”

“She hasn’t had any seizures since we started the medication, so it’s probably okay to begin feeding her. As soon as I finish my morning rounds I’ll come back to insert a feeding tube. Maybe you could get the pump set up so everything is ready to go.”

“Of course.” She avoided his direct gaze, not trusting her ability to stay cool, calm and collected.

Had he really called her beautiful? No, he’d called her name beautiful. And that was completely different.

Wasn’t it?

Of course it was.

She pulled out her stethoscope and warmed the diaphragm in the palm of her hand before leaning over to listen to Emma’s heart, lungs and abdomen. As she went through her basic assessment she swore she could feel Dr. Ryan’s piercing gaze on the back of her neck.

Just as she finished her assessment Debra came rushing over. “Sorry I’m late, had to finish feeding Barton.”

“We can start at his bassinet,” Cassie said, hoping her need to escape Dr. Ryan’s overwhelming presence wasn’t too obvious. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” Debra led the way over to where Barton’s bassinet was located and quickly logged onto the computer to pull up his flow sheet. “He’s up to two and a half ounces per feeding and he gained three ounces. His weight this morning is four pounds twelve ounces.”

“Awesome news,” Cassie said with a smile. “What about his breathing? Any periods of apnea noted on the monitor?”

“None. He’s been clear for twenty hours now.” Debra beamed as if she were the proud mama. Actually, they all tended to take great satisfaction from watching their tiny patients’ progress. “If he lasts until tomorrow morning, Dr. Ryan is going to move him over to the level-two nursery.”

“Wonderful,” Cassie agreed. “His parents are going to be thrilled.”

“They won’t be here until later this afternoon, but I’m sure they will be.” Debra clicked through the rest of the assessment, including the amount of time he needed to be placed under the bili lights, along with the medication list.

When they finished with Barton they went back over to Emma’s warmer. Cassie was relieved yet oddly disappointed that Dr. Ryan had left. They quickly reviewed Emma’s vitals, her vent settings and her medication list before Debra left to head home.

About an hour later Emma’s IV pump began beeping. Fearing the worst, she hurried over to shut off the pump and check the IV site.

Emma’s little vein had blown earlier than she’d expected. She removed the catheter, feeling bad about the bruise that marred Emma’s pink skin.

“I’m so sorry, sweetpea,” she murmured. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to put this IV back in.”

As much as she detesting having to poke the baby, she knew it was for Emma’s own good. The poor thing needed to get her medication to prevent seizures. She was especially anxious to get some tube feedings into the little baby. Emma had lost the three ounces Barton had gained.

This time, she chose the opposite arm for the IV. Tiny beads of sweat rolled down from her temples as she concentrated on finding the vein. For some reason, putting an IV in Emma was much more stressful than when she placed them in other patients. Thankfully she managed to thread the tiny catheter in and breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Nice job,” Dr. Ryan said from behind her.

Somehow she managed not to jerk the needle out of Emma’s arm, in spite of the fact that he’d sneaked up on her. Again.

Completely her fault. After all, he had mentioned coming back after rounds to insert the feeding tube.

“Thanks. Just give me a minute here,” she murmured, using the same contraption that she’d used yesterday to cover the IV site from being accidentally pulled out.

When she’d finished she stepped back and stripped off her gloves, trying not to imagine that most of her makeup had been sweated away. One thing about working over infants in warmers, you were never cold, even in the winter. In the summer, like today, it was downright steamy.

Although worth the discomfort, since their tiny babies needed every bit of the warmth.

“Has the social worker been by?” Ryan asked as he set out the feeding-tube supplies.

“Yes. She informed me that someone from Child Protective Services would be here between nine and ten.”

“That should give me enough time to get the feeding tube placed.”

“The pump is here and the formula you’ve ordered is ready to go.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and she stared, acutely aware of how his face softened, making him look lighter. Younger. Not as detached.

“I should have known you’d be ready,” he said. “Okay, Emma, we’re going to have to get this nasty tube in,” he said in a soft voice as he leaned over the baby. He lightly ran his finger down the length of Emma’s arm and she was struck by the fact that this was the second time he’d soothed Emma, something she hadn’t seen him do to any of the other babies in their care. “But, trust me, you’ll feel better with some food in your tummy.”

Just like the IV, a feeding tube was a necessity for babies on ventilators. Even without the breathing support, Emma would likely need to be tube fed because of the seizure medication.

She helped hold Emma’s head and body steady as Dr. Ryan inserted the feeding tube. Emma didn’t like it much. Her tiny arms and legs flailed a bit, but then the tube was in her stomach and the worst of the discomfort was over.

“I’m so glad she won’t remember this,” Cassie murmured. “I feel like we’re torturing her.”

“We’re not,” Dr. Ryan said softly. “She’s strong, she’ll pull through this.”

“I know,” she said huskily, trying not to give in to the urge to cry. No baby should have to suffer and it was hard not to pass judgment on the baby’s mother for allowing this to happen.

She subtly swiped at her eyes and turned to the feeding pump to program in the proper rate. Ryan came up beside her and put his hand lightly on her arm.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a husky voice.

She wasn’t, but partially because his skin was so warm and tingly, she couldn’t think. “Um, sure. I’m fine. Emma’s the one I’m worried about.”

“Me, too. But I’m confident you’ll take good care of her. You’re an incredible nurse, Cassie,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” she protested. “I just happen to love babies.”

“I can tell. As I said before, you’re a natural.”

She glanced up at him, mesmerized by his ocean-blue gaze. Awareness shimmered between them, and suddenly she couldn’t seem to remember why she needed to keep her distance from him. He seemed to understand her so well.

Better than her husband ever had.

With an effort, she tore her gaze away to glance back down at Emma. She knew very well why she needed to stay away. She’d suffered two miscarriages and her doctor had told her not to get pregnant until she’d had surgery. And even then, he’d told her, there could be scarring, preventing her from ever having a baby of her own.

And deep down she was afraid to risk getting pregnant again. She might not survive the emotional distress of another miscarriage.

“Cassie?” Ryan’s voice pulled her from her sad thoughts. But before he could say anything more, the social worker approached, accompanied by a woman in her midforties wearing a badly fitting suit.

“Hi, Cassie, Dr. Murphy. This is Judith from CPS.”

Cassie stepped away from Ryan and nodded at Judith. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. What can you tell me about Emma’s condition?” Judith asked, getting right down to business. The way she barely glanced at the baby grated on Cassie’s nerves.

“She’s been a sick little girl, but she’s stable at the moment. We’re supporting her breathing and giving anti-seizure medication.”

“I see. What’s the cause of her illness?”

“Her lab tests just came back positive for opiates, although the level isn’t as high as I expected,” Ryan admitted.

“So the mother was a drug addict.” Judith didn’t look at all happy with the news. “We could go after the mother for child abuse.”

“Please, don’t.” Cassie spoke up. “She gave up her child under the safe-haven law. If the word gets out that we’re going after the mother, others may not risk doing the same.”

Judith grimaced and nodded. “I know, but it still makes me angry. How long before the baby is able to be discharged?”

“I can’t tell you for sure, but probably a week or two, maybe more. Depends on how well she responds to treatment.”

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