“Yes, I am. I can’t leave you up here unsupervised. I’m sure you understand that.”

“Absolutely. A few more minutes?”

“Sorry. Duty calls.”

I sighed, about to place the baby back in the bassinet. Her lips pursed and suckled air, then went slack. I stroked her cheek with a rubber finger. “Good night, little one.”

“You can hold her if you like.”

The voice that spoke was deep. I looked up … then up some more.

He was tall, lean, and high-waisted, with smooth cinnamon skin that stretched over high cheekbones. His face appeared to be long, although it was hard to tell under the mask. The cover-up did serve to showcase magnificent eyes: big and round and pale whiskey in color, set under arched black eyebrows and topped with an awning of long, dark lashes.

Why did guys have the best lashes?

He wore blue scrubs, his hair hidden under a paper cap. He was holding a tray of vials, tubes, needles, and slides. Some of the tubes were filled with blood, others empty. I had been so focused on the baby, I hadn’t heard him come in.

Marnie said, “I just got paged to Four West. She can’t be left unsupervised.”

“Why not? Is she a felon?”

“I’m not kidding, Koby. You cannot leave her alone with the baby. When you leave, she leaves.”

“I will watch her like a marine.”

Marnie was already walking away. “Your charm’s going to fail you one day, Koby. Then what will you have?”

“I think I will have my job,” he retorted. “From you it is shown that charm is not necessary for the position.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” She scurried out of the room, and through the glass window, I saw her racing down the hallway.

He set the tray down on a metal table and directed his jeweled eyes down to my face. “So you are the one who found treasure in the snake pit?”

“I’m the one who pulled her out of the Dumpster. How did you know?”

“The paramedics told me the story.” He checked the clock, then signed a clipboard attached to my baby’s bassinet. “I need to take her blood.”

“She’s sleeping so soundly.”

“I have a light touch. Perhaps she will sleep through the entire procedure. If you continue to hold and rock her, it will make it easier.”

I made a face. “Where do you take the blood from?”

“From the heel.”

My eyes crawled upward to his badge. Though Marnie had called him Koby, his name tag revealed him to be YAAKOV KUTIEL—R.N., M.N., M.P.H. CRITICAL CARE NEONATOLOGY. Yaakov was my stepbrother’s legal name, although my dad usually called him Jake or Jacob. Yaakov was a name associated with Jews or Russians. The man didn’t appear to be of either stock. “How is she doing?”

“Very well, although she did have some drop in temperature from exposure.” He took several slides out from their protective wrappers, marking each one with a number on its label. “Not too much of a drop because, the EMT tells me, she was covered up with the garbage bags.”