him wanting to punch something, and he knew he needed a calming distraction. And the one thing that always gave him perspective and helped him remember what was really important was spending time with innocent new babies, some of whom were struggling with far more serious problems than he had. Much more important than parental disapproval and gossip and damned fabrications that shouldn’t be more than an inconvenient annoyance to be ignored.
Just three steps into NICU he stopped, struck by the picture in front of him. The beautiful profile of Gabriella Cain as she sat next to Skye’s incubator, her fire-streaked golden hair tucked behind her ears. Unaware that anyone was looking at her, every emotion was visible. Her eyes and lips, her posture, and the way her fingers gently stroked the infant’s tiny arm exposed a mix of emotions so raw his chest tightened to see them. Sadness and anguish. Guilt. And a longing so naked he knew this was far more than a woman simply looking at the miracle of a newborn.
What had happened to Gabriella to bring this kind of pain to her life?
He watched her for long minutes, uncertain whether to approach her with comfort or quietly leave her alone. His feet seemed to make the decision for him, and he found himself right next to her, his hand reaching to slowly stroke down her soft hair then rest on her slumped shoulder with a gentle squeeze.
She didn’t react immediately. It seemed to take her a moment to emerge from whatever dark and private place she was in. Then she turned and looked up at him. Her professional mask slipped across her face, covering all that starkly haunted emotion.
“Have you come to see Skye? She’s doing really well.” Gabriella stood to give him room to move closer to the incubator, and his hand fell from her shoulder. But he didn’t want to see the baby now as much as he wanted to be there for Gabriella. “I left Cameron a short time ago,” she said. “She’s resting, but asked me to check on Skye and report back. Not that she hasn’t gotten reports about every fifteen minutes from various members of the nursing staff. But she isn’t quite convinced that’s enough.”
Her smile seemed forced and it didn’t banish the sadness from her eyes. He wanted to reach out to her. He wanted to hold her close and console her for whatever hurt she was holding inside. He wanted to tell her it would be okay, that all pain faded and nothing was forever. And as his eyes met her somber brown ones, he knew.
He wanted to know Gabriella a whole lot better, and to hell with lying low and living like a saint. He couldn’t care about gossip or stupid photos or even his mother’s embarrassment and worries. Right then, the only thing he cared about was spending time with Gabriella and finding a way to make her smile again.
“My updates from the pediatricians have been good enough that I think we can move Skye into her mama’s room,” he said. “That would keep Cameron happier and save some time and footsteps by the nursing staff, don’t you think?”
“Yes. But of course I don’t mind checking on the baby. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? I’m so happy she’s all right.”
That wistful look crept across her face again, and Rafael found himself reaching for her hand before he even realized it. “I have a favor to ask of you.”
“A favor?”
“Yes. Freya told me that all the recent high-profile operations for Bright Hope patients have the cream of L.A. society lining up to hold exclusive fundraisers, so she’s asked if I can attend a charity ball. Since I’m new to Los Angeles and have no one to ask to go with me, would you please come? I’m sure you know all the great things the clinic does for people who don’t have easy access to good medical care. Including pregnant women. Wouldn’t attending the fundraiser together be a great way for both of us to help continue creating awareness for a good cause?”
The eyes staring at him were wide and stunned. Why, he wasn’t sure, since they’d dined together the night before. Surely if she’d heard about the photo and gossip, she would have said so. Still, she just stood there, her lips parted but mute.
“Is my English not as good as I think it is? I asked if you’d attend a party with me. Did I accidentally ask you to eat worms?” he teased, hoping to get a real smile and a yes from her.
“Um, no. Your English, as you well know, is better than most who speak it as a first language.” The smile she gave him was strained, but it was a start. “But I’m afraid I can’t come with you.”
“Why not?”
“It just...wouldn’t be right. Excuse me while I check back with Cameron.”
He watched her tear from the room as though that gorgeous hair of hers was actually on fire and not just shimmering with flaming hues. He wasn’t used to being turned down flat and wondered if it just might have to do with her running from the barely banked-down heat they’d shared last night.
Remembering that the whole reason he’d come to NICU had been to find some inner calm, he turned to little Skye, sweetly and innocently lying in her crib. But he wasn’t really seeing her. He was seeing Gabriella’s expression as she’d looked at the infant, and he knew without a doubt that whatever had caused that anguish was something she’d been carrying for too long.
Yes, he’d been given orders from headquarters—which meant his parents—to hide from the past, unwelcome limelight for a while. And maybe it would be a mistake to expose Gabriella and whatever secrets she carried to the heavy weight of that microscope along with him. But thinking about her somehow told him with absolute certainty that hiding wasn’t the answer. Not for him, and not for Gabriella. It was time for both of them to put their pasts behind them, and the first steps to making that happen would take place at a certain charity ball. A ball with plenty of supporters. Allies who’d be more than happy to convince her to attend with him.
“EVERYTHING LOOKS GREAT, Freya, with baby the perfect size for a healthy fetus, four months in gestation,” Gabby said, smiling. “And you look wonderful too. Your skin is positively glowing. Can I admit to being jealous?”
She’d said the words to make Freya happy, but right after she’d spoken them, the unpleasant, unexpected, and unwelcome cloud weightily slipped over her head again. Why were the memories becoming more frequent, instead of more distant? She had no idea, but dwelling on it accomplished nothing, and she did her best to shake off the gray gloom, because Freya deserved the true joy Gabby felt for her friend and employer.
“I do feel wonderful, honestly.” Freya’s smile was big enough to banish some of Gabby’s moping and make her smile too. “Though several friends have told me to enjoy it while it lasts, because after it arrives I’ll be so sleep-deprived I’ll forget the baby’s name.”
Freya’s words dashed the final remnants of gloom, and Gabby had to laugh. “Maybe not quite that much. But no matter how many times I warn new mothers that a lot of babies refuse to sleep, no one really hears it until they’re living it.”
“Well, either way, sleep or no sleep, I’m beyond excited.” Freya sat up and adjusted her exam gown. “Half-dressed isn’t the way to talk business, but since we’re both so busy I’m going to take advantage of this time alone to chat.”
“About?”
“The charity ball. Rafael Moreno told me he asked you to go with him, but you told him you didn’t want to.” Her voice became chiding. “Really, Gabby, why in the world would
