Lone Star Baby. Cathy Thacker Gillen

if he had it to do all over again, he would have done what was right for everyone—not just him.

      “That’s what I think we should do, too,” he said firmly.

      “Then it’s decided?” Violet asked.

      Gavin nodded. The idea of raising a child with such a sweet and sexy woman had been a nice, brief fantasy—but that was all it was; a tantalizing idea. One he was far too practical to waste any time pondering.

      “I’ll call Mitzy and tell her that we’ve talked and decided what we want to do.”

      * * *

      “WHO KNOWS? THIS might be just the change you’ve been looking for,” Lacey McCabe told Violet two days later.

      Violet looked at her mother. An accomplished physician and neonatologist, and head of the pediatrics department at LCH, she had come down to the ambulance bay to await the arrival of baby Ava.

      Violet refused to encourage her mother’s hope that all six of her daughters would end up with children of their own, in marriages just as solid and strong as hers. “It’s just a temporary guardianship, Mom.”

      “I know you think that now, but babies have a way of latching on to your heart.”

      “Not in this case,” Violet insisted.

      She wasn’t ready for motherhood.

      She certainly wasn’t the best choice, long-term, for an orphaned newborn.

      But with the help of her family, and Gavin’s, she could do the right thing, in the short run. That, she knew.

      “Just don’t confuse the love you and Gavin will no doubt feel for this child for anything else,” her mother continued.

      Violet blinked. “Like what?”

      Lacey shrugged. “Babies in jeopardy have a way of bringing people together in other ways, too.” She paused, concern in her eyes. “Ways that don’t last.”

      Was her mother intimating that she and Gavin would become closer, too, as a consequence? “You don’t need to worry about that,” Violet huffed, folding her arms across her chest. “Gavin and I know how to work together for the good of a patient—or in this case, a ward—without crossing any boundaries.”

      Lacey nodded, her maternal gaze cautious. “In any case,” she went on, with an approving hug, “I want you to know your father and I are proud of the way you and Gavin are stepping up to take on this unexpected responsibility.”

      Gavin joined them. He’d been on the midnight-to-noon ER shift. Clad in surgical scrubs with a shadow of beard on his face, he looked as ruggedly handsome as always. He smiled at Violet and her mom. “Jackson said the same to me a little while ago,” he confirmed.

      Lacey’s dad was not just LCH’s chief of staff, he was also famously protective of all six of his daughters. He never hesitated to offer encouragement or to step in with a word of caution if he thought one of them was headed down the wrong path.

      “In fact, I think everyone at the hospital is interested in doing what they can for the little one.” Gavin hovered closer. “How much longer until they get here?”

      Violet dutifully consulted her watch. “Should be any minute now. In fact, Mitzy should be here shortly, too.”

      Right on cue, the social worker appeared. She had a clipboard full of papers to be signed.

      The next few minutes were spent filling out the appropriate paperwork. By the time they’d finished, the ambulance pulled up beneath the portico. The doors opened and the incubator containing baby Ava was brought out. They caught only a distant glimpse of the newborn as she was whisked through a series of corridors that led straight to the Special Care Nursery. “Showtime,” Gavin said as they fell into step behind the EMTs.

      Was he as nervous about all this as she suddenly was? There was no way to tell. But she was glad he was here with her every step of the way.

      Together, Gavin and Violet waited in the corridor outside the unit. Finally, Lacey McCabe came out. Clad in a sterile yellow gown thrown over her clothing, she had a stethoscope around her neck and a smile on her face. “Ava’s doing great. You can go in and see her now.”

      The two of them slipped on yellow gowns and Violet took a bolstering breath as they went inside.

      Ava was snuggled on a white flannel blanket that covered the bottom of the enclosed Plexiglas incubator. She had a knit cap on her head, a white knit sweater on her torso that covered her spindly arms and a diaper. Monitors were attached to her chest and foot. She had a nasal cannula to help her get the oxygen she needed.

      Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes thick and velvety against her cheeks. She appeared to be sleeping comfortably. Looked sweet and vulnerable. And so very precious, this tiny baby girl.

      A lump rose in Violet’s throat as she thought about everything the premature infant had already been through. It was one thing to accept responsibility of a child in theory, another to actually do it, live and in person.

      Violet let out a tremulous sigh.

      Gavin seemed similarly affected. His eyes still on little Ava, he reached over and took Violet’s hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

      Meg Carrigan, the nursing supervisor, appeared at Violet’s elbow. “You can come back and visit her as much as you want, but right now we’d like Ava to rest awhile.”

      Violet nodded. The doctor in her understood the reasoning. But the “mom” in her wanted to stay. Forever.

      Reluctantly, she stepped back.

      Gavin took her elbow and led her out of the nursery and into the hall.

      A crowd had gathered. Other parents. Staff. Visitors. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the little orphan. Mitzy was there, too, smiling. “Can you believe it?” She was practically gushing as she held up another sheet on her clipboard. “We’ve already had two dozen families calling, interested in giving her a permanent home. And they haven’t even seen her!”

      “Great,” Violet managed to say, her treacherous heart clenching and unclenching like a fist in the middle of her chest.

      Gavin nodded. Tightening his grip on her elbow, he escorted her down the hall and past the elevators, to a deserted corner. “You okay?”

      “Wh-what do you mean?”

      He edged closer. Head dipping toward hers, he asked quietly, “Are you going to be able to do this?”

      Not sure whether to be insulted he doubted her or impressed he could so easily see her inner turmoil, Violet stammered, “O-of course!”

      Gavin gave her a probing look that sent heat spiraling through her. “Really? Because, from my view, you already look a little too attached.”

      * * *

      HIS OBSERVATION HIT Violet hard, and while Gavin was sorry about that, he also knew it had to be said.

      “You had tears in your eyes just now.”

      She waved a hand. “You were choked up, too.”

      Only because Violet had been choked up.

      Gavin cleared his throat. He saw the vulnerability in her expression and wished there was some way to make this easier for all of them without admitting they might have made a mistake in agreeing to it at all.

      Especially if she was this emotionally invested already.

      Their eyes met and locked, generating another wave of heat between them. She stepped back slightly, but not before he caught the faint drift of the freesia perfume she favored.

      “Look, I’m not going to deny I feel a little sorry for the kid...”

      Her golden-brown eyes sparked with indignation. “A little?”

      “Okay,