Jo Leigh - Nightwatch

She’d learned early that, as a doctor, emotional objectivity was a good thing. Not that she didn’t care what happened to her patients. In fact, that’s where all her nurturing went—to the people who needed her. The truth was, she was too emotional. Things affected her deeply, and she cared way too much when confronted with pain and suffering she could do nothing about.

Rachel had been that way all her life, and it had made for a roller-coaster puberty. Her friends’ lives all became larger than life, their joys were hers to share, and their pain cut her to the core.

Her decision to become a doctor was born from a deep need to make things better. Not just for others, but for herself. She couldn’t stand feeling helpless.

In grade school she’d had a dear, wonderful friend. Molly had moved two houses down when they were both in fourth grade, and it had been love at first sight. They lived at each other’s houses, played together constantly, dreamed big dreams. Molly was like a sister to Rachel, only they fought less.

And at fifteen, Molly got bone cancer. Two years later, she’d died, and Rachel had nearly gone with her, her grief was so consuming. Standing by, watching her friend’s body waste away was the most excruciating experience of her life, and from that time on, nothing had swayed her from her course.

It was in medical school that Rachel realized she couldn’t help anyone if she was engulfed in grief herself, so she decided she simply wouldn’t let it in. It was as if she’d created an invisible bubble around herself, and nothing came through.

Nothing.

The strategy had worked so well it almost scared her, whenever she let herself think about it. Because there was one problem: she’d never been able to figure out a way to let the positive emotions enter through the barricade.

Not that she was unhappy. The satisfaction she got from her job was deep and fine. But was it enough?

Waking up alone, going to sleep alone, cooking for one…It fell short. Not short enough to make her give up her career or even curtail her hours. If she ever did meet anyone, he’d have to deal with that, or hit the road.

For some unknown reason, she thought of Guy again. She needed to think of him as her boss, not a man. A really attractive man.

That was one road she wasn’t going down. Nope. No way. He was off-limits. Completely and utterly. He was the reason she preferred the night shift and why she did all she could to keep their communication on paper.

Rachel threw the covers back and headed for the shower. Her shift didn’t start until nine, but she had shopping to do, some calls to make. And she wanted to get to the hospital early to review her paperwork and check on Heather Corrigan’s baby boy.

ELEANOR FITZ, the charge nurse in the NICU, wasn’t someone Guy new well. He dealt with her during administrative meetings and whenever a preemie was born in the E.R. They’d never talked, aside from work. He didn’t understand his reticence to approach her now, and he pushed it aside, intent on seeing Heather’s child.

When Eleanor saw him standing just inside the room, she seemed startled, but she quickly hid her surprise. “Dr. Giroux, how can I help you?”

He walked directly to the large sink and scrubbed his hands as if preparing for surgery. Then he draped a sterile mask around his neck and walked across the room to the nurses’ station, his gaze sweeping the incubators, isolettes, infant warmers and bevy of monitors hooked up to the tiny charges. The other nurses, most of whom he recognized, were busy, and there were two fathers, one holding his child, the other looking desperately through an incubator at his.

“I’m looking for Heather Corrigan’s baby,” he said.

For a split second Eleanor’s forehead creased, but perhaps he imagined it because when she smiled, she seemed all business. “He’s right over here.” Turning, she led him to the incubator at the far end of the room. Both a heart and a respiratory monitor were connected, and when he got closer, he saw an IV tube inserted into the hand of an incredibly tiny, very yellow baby.

“What’s his condition?”

The nurse didn’t even pluck the chart from the corner of the incubator. “He’s doing better than he was, but that’s not saying much. Very low blood pressure. You can see his jaundice is advanced and his kidney is only at ten percent. There’s still a lot we don’t know. His blood work isn’t finished.”

Guy stopped himself before he snapped at the woman in his frustration. “Please call the lab immediately and have his bloods done, stat.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, the words an unasked question.

“This is my stepdaughter’s child. I’d like to be informed immediately of any changes. You have my beeper, I assume.”

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, and it was if she had changed into another person. Softer. Sympathetic.

He wanted to make her leave, and he could have with a glance, but he didn’t. The child deserved all the sympathy in the world, considering his stepgrandfather.

“I’ll get right on it, Doctor,” Eleanor said, stepping aside. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”

He nodded, his gaze on the boy.

“Doctor?”

He turned, surprised that the nurse was still there. “Yes.”

“Does he have a name?”

Guy stared without seeing. Thought about his girl, the way her hair insisted on flying about in the most undisciplined manner, no matter how she tried to tame it. About the way her laugh made him smile, even when he was in the foulest mood. “Heath,” he said. He looked at the baby once more. “His name is Heath Corrigan.”

RACHEL WAS STILL a little stunned at the storm damage she’d seen on her errands. Roofs had blown off, trees had toppled, electrical wires had been ripped from their housings. It was amazing the E.R. hadn’t been ten times as busy.

She’d finished her grocery shopping, gone to the post office and to the dry cleaners. Tonight would end her graveyard shift, and the day after tomorrow she would begin days. It wasn’t an easy transition to make, not only because of her body clock, but because of the social aspects of the day shift.

There were more patients, more interactions, more staff. She’d be doing rounds with Guy, seeing him in the call room, in the lounge. It was also time for her yearly review, and while she felt confident her performance was up to par, she didn’t like the fact that Guy had so much power over her.

Not that she hadn’t had supervisors and bosses before. She’d done her residency at Baylor in Houston, and they were notorious for their brutal reviews, but no one had ever flustered her the way Guy did. For all her expertise at disassociating her emotions, she failed miserably when she was around him.

She’d given up denying her attraction to him. It was there. Big time. But just because she felt it didn’t mean she had to act on it.

She just wished it would go away—that she could cure her attraction like a headache and be done with it.

And now, given his grief at the loss of Heather, she needed to be extra attentive, more personal, giving.

Okay, she wanted to be those things because no one should have to go through his pain, but the territory was dangerous and she had to be so very careful not to let him get too close. Not to let her guard down.

Once Rachel arrived at the hospital, she headed straight for the NICU.

In the elevator to the fourth floor, two nurses joined her. Rachel smiled at them and stood to one side. Of course she knew them both—they worked in cardiology—but not well.

“I know,” Cathy said, her voice just above a whisper, yet clear as a bell to Rachel. “I couldn’t believe it. His own stepdaughter.”