The Magic of Christmas (3 page)

It would have been hard to guess who, out of the two of them, was more shocked.

She didn't gaze at married men.

And even if he wasn't married, she still wouldn't be interested. She had no interest in a relationship at this point in her life.

Ellen was concentrating her attention on Christian again. ‘So is that it, then? I see a cardiologist now?'

‘That's right.' His voice suddenly clipped, Christian picked up her chart and started to move away from the trolley, but she caught his arm.

‘Let me give you my number. If you're at a loose end over Christmas, you can call me. I hate the festive season.You and I could console each other.'

Give the man a bodyguard
, Lara thought wearily as Christian carefully extricated himself from Ellen's grip.

‘I have your number on the notes in the event that
the hospital needs to contact you about something,' he said smoothly, and Ellen's laugh was resigned.

‘You're giving me the brush-off, but I suppose that was inevitable. Are you married? Well, of course you're married, the truly gorgeous ones always are. Oh, well, my loss, handsome.'

Christian stilled and Lara held her breath, wondering if he was going to finally lose his cool and say something cutting. Or perhaps he'd produce a picture of his stunning wife and Ellen would spend the rest of Christmas feeling nauseated with jealousy.
And it would be no more than she deserved for being so pushy.
Just because the guy looked like a sex god, it didn't mean he had to be harassed.

But Christian said nothing. In fact, the only suggestion that he'd even heard the question was the faint flicker of a muscle in his jaw. He lowered his head, scribbled something onto the chart and placed it with the rest of the notes. ‘The cardiologist is on his way down,' he said evenly, as if he hadn't just been propositioned by a patient. ‘He's an excellent doctor and he'll be more than happy to answer all the questions you have about your condition. Staff Nurse King? Nice job.' He
studied her for a moment longer than was necessary. ‘It's your half-day, isn't it? You should have gone home an hour ago.'

How did he know it was her half-day?

Astonished, Lara watched as he strode out of the room with a firm, confident stride.

He was Christian, the consultant. Christian, the doctor.

He never allowed the smallest glimpse of Christian, the man.

Which was probably why she hadn't bothered looking for flaws.

‘A
RE
you excited, Daddy? Are you?'

Christian glanced down into the shining eyes of his seven-year-old daughter.
Excited?
‘I'm extremely pleased that you're so happy,' he drawled softly, and she slid her hand into his.

‘
I'm
excited. This is the best day of my life. Will it be our turn soon? Will it? We've been waiting for
ages
. Do you think Father Christmas too busy to see us? Are we going to have to come back another time?' Aggie was wearing a bright pink coat with matching gloves and her whole face was a smile as she chattered non-stop. The sound of a choir singing Christmas carols blared and crackled through loudspeakers and the dull ache in Christian's head threatened to turn into a ghastly throb.

The morning had been hideously busy, and prising himself away from the department for a few hours had proved even harder than he'd anticipated.

‘He's not too busy to see you, but there are lots of children waiting.' He reached out with his free hand and gently stroked her blonde curls while he glanced along the queue, looking to see if he could track down one of the ‘fairies' employed to occupy the children with small toys and sweets while they were waiting. He glanced at his older daughter, who was gazing into space. ‘You're quiet, Chloe. Are you all right?'

She sent him a quick smile. ‘I'm fine, Daddy. Thanks.'

He looked at her, trying to work out the immediate problem. And there
was
a problem, he knew there was. He gritted his teeth. Until he'd had daughters, he'd thought he'd known a lot about women. ‘Is twelve too old to be seeing Father Christmas?'

Was he supposed to know these things?

Colour seeped into her cheeks. ‘It's fine, Daddy.'

‘She
has
to see Father Christmas,' Aggie announced,
hopping from one leg to the other, ‘otherwise how is he ever going to know what she wants more than anything in the world?'

Chloe's eyes slid to her sister. ‘Father Christmas can't give you everything you want. He isn't a miracle worker.'

‘Yes, he is. Try asking and see.'

Had he ever been that innocent or that optimistic?

Wondering whether it was age or life that had turned him into a cynic, Christian studied his eldest daughter's tense profile. She stood quietly in the queue, a far-away look in her eyes. Her cheeks were pale and the skin beneath her eyes was shadowed, as if she wasn't sleeping well. And she was far too quiet, as she so often was these days.

Tension ripped through him.

Could he have changed things? Could he have done things differently?

‘Have you made a list? I've made my list.'Aggie danced on the spot, her hand curled tightly around the piece of paper she'd been clutching since he'd collected her from school. ‘It's a bit long but I've
been good this year.' She peeped cautiously up at her father. ‘Sort of…a lot of the time…'

Christian lifted an eyebrow. ‘You mean, if I ignore the flooded bathroom, the fire in the kitchen and the ketchup stains on your bedroom carpet?'

‘They were
accidents
.'

‘I know they were accidents.' And he'd been working. He shuddered when he thought how much worse the ‘accidents' could have been. ‘It doesn't matter, sweetheart.'

‘It wasn't exactly my fault, was it?' Aggie frowned. ‘She should have been keeping an eye on me. Nanny TV.'

‘Nanny asleep-on-the-sofa,' Chloe murmured, and Christian felt the tension increase dramatically.

Nanny TV. It was only after his daughters had started using that nickname that he'd realised just what the nanny had been doing all day. And it hadn't been looking after his children.

‘She's gone,' he said grimly, a flash of anger exploding through his body. ‘The new nanny starts tomorrow.'

‘Another nanny?' Aggie glanced at her sister. ‘What if she doesn't like us?'

‘Of course she'll like you.' Christian frowned. ‘All nannies like children. That's why they're nannies.'

‘Nanny TV didn't like children. She told me that I was more trouble than I was worth.' Aggie smoothed her coat. ‘Do we have to have another nanny? We're at school all day. Can't we just come home with you in the evening?'

Chloe shook her head. ‘You know we can't do that. Daddy has to work. He has a very important job. He can't always leave at the same time every day. And then there are the nights and the holidays and all the things to be done around the house, like picking up the clothes you drop everywhere.'

Christian let out a long breath. ‘Chloe's right, sweetheart. And, at the moment, my work is very busy.' He didn't even want to think about it. Even taking two hours off to take his daughters to see Father Christmas pricked at his conscience. His colleagues in the emergency department would be stretched to breaking point. But there was no way he was disappointing his children.

They'd had the year from hell.

He glanced at his watch again and then at the queue, which just didn't seem to be moving.

Aggie tilted her head to one side. ‘Are there lots of broken people at the moment?'

Christian blinked at her description. ‘Yes—I suppose so. People have accidents—'

‘And you stick them back together again.'Aggie gave an understanding smile. ‘I know. I know you're very clever. And you need to work, otherwise we wouldn't have any money. Would we have to go to the workhouse?'

‘The workhouse?'

‘We're learning about it in history. In Victorian times poor children sometimes went into the workhouse. I hope we don't do that. I really like our new house and I love my bedroom. Will we be able to unpack soon?'

Christian opened his mouth and closed it again. Keeping up with the speed of his daughter's conversation required a decent night's sleep and he hadn't had one of those for months. ‘We're not poor, Aggie, and you won't go into the workhouse. Workhouses were abolished a long time ago.'

‘What's abolished?'

Chloe hushed her. ‘Stop asking questions, Aggie! All you do is ask questions and talk, talk, talk! It's no wonder Nanny TV fell asleep on the sofa. She probably died of exhaustion, listening to your chatter!'

‘It's fine to ask questions,' Christian interjected swiftly, noticing Aggie's lip wobble in response to her sister's rebuke. ‘And abolish means to do away with something. And we're not leaving our new house and we'll finish unpacking the boxes as soon as I get a free minute—' He broke off as the queue moved forward a little and then stopped again. His heart sank. ‘Aggie, how badly do you want to see Father Christmas?'

Aggie beamed. ‘More than anything. I think this is the happiest, most exciting day of my life. Thank you, Daddy, for bringing me here. It's my dream.'

No chance of leaving, then, Christian thought wryly as he discreetly checked his watch. He cast a look at Chloe, worried about how quiet she was.

She intercepted his concerned glance and gave a brave smile. ‘It's OK, Dad,' she said in a faltering voice. ‘Everything is going to be OK. Our new house is lovely. We're all going to have a
great Christmas. As soon as I've broken up from school, I can start on those boxes. If Aggie would just stop talking for five minutes and help me, we'll get it done really quickly.'

‘You're amazing, do you know that?' Unfailingly impressed by his daughter's resilience, Christian reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘What do you want from Father Christmas, sweetheart?'

He would have given a lot to know, but Chloe didn't reveal her feelings.

Did she talk to her friends?

He almost laughed. Who was he to criticise? He didn't talk to anyone, either.

She looked at him now, her gaze clear and direct. ‘I want you to be happy again. I want you to have fun,' she softly. ‘That's what I want more than anything.'

Fun? Fun for himself wasn't a priority. All he wanted was to see his daughters relaxed and happy. ‘I'm happy, Chlo. I've just been incredibly busy…'

Chloe nodded. ‘I know. It doesn't matter. We're doing fine. I know you're busy.'

Too busy to laugh. Too busy to unpack the
boxes in their new home. Too busy to see Father Christmas.
Too busy to give his girls everything they needed.

Christian gritted his teeth, vowing to somehow make himself less busy.

‘It's now!'Aggie jumped up and down like a yo-yo. ‘That fairy is waving to us. I think it's our turn.'

* * *

Why on earth had she ever thought this would be a good idea?

Still recovering her breath after her mad dash from the hospital, Lara smoothed a hand over the glittering net and tulle that floated around her pink tights. It wasn't that she minded the children. She loved the children. She loved the way they stood almost bursting with excitement as they waited, eyes shining, cheeks still pink from the cold. It was the parents that made her despair. She listened to them in the queue, scolding and snapping as if taking the kids to see Father Christmas was just another chore to be ticked off a long list.

Why did people have children if they found them so irritating?

Or maybe that was just one of the ironies of life. Once you had something, you no longer appreciated its value.

Engulfed by a sudden wave of nostalgia, she tried not to dwell on the fact that this would be the first time in her life that she wouldn't be with her own family for Christmas. Her parents had decided to spend the festive period at their cottage in France and her brother was in Australia with his girlfriend.

And it was no good telling herself that she'd be joining him in a matter of weeks. It still felt wrong, not being with her family for Christmas.

Lara felt a flash of sadness.

Things were changing.
Her family was changing. She was the only one who had stayed the same.

Would she ever find a man that she wanted to spend a lifetime with? Would she ever have her own children?

Two would be a nice number. Two little girls, exactly like the ones who were next in the queue. Even at a glance she could see that they were entirely different personalities. The elder was quiet and serious and the other was fizzing like a
bottle of lemonade that had been shaken until it was ready to explode.

They were gorgeous.

She watched them for a moment with amusement and then looked at the father.

And froze in panic.

Oh, no, no
no!

It was Christian Blake—looking nothing like his usual self, which was why she hadn't immediately recognised him. Only an hour ago he'd been wearing a blue scrub suit and a distant, forbidding expression. Now there was no sign of the ruthlessly efficient consultant.

This afternoon he was definitely the man and not the doctor.

And an incredibly sexy man.

He'd swapped the scrub suit for a pair of jeans and a chunky sweater that brushed against his strong jaw. His boots looked comfortable and well worn and he wore a long black coat that seemed to emphasise his powerful physique. The younger of the two girls was clinging to his hand and leaping around like a kangaroo on a hot surface.

So not only was he married, he also had two
perfect children. And they'd picked this particular day to see Father Christmas.

Pinned to the spot with shock, Lara stifled a whimper. What was she going to do? If her wings had been real, she would have flown up into the rafters and hidden from view.