Her Knight Under The Mistletoe. Annie O'Neil

their son.

      Amanda’s fingers swept along the outside pocket of her handbag, where she still kept the grainy black and white image of Tristan’s first scan.

      After her husband’s last deployment... Well, it had been hard to believe she’d ever feel anything again. Carrying the weight of someone’s senseless death did that to a person. She’d feel the heated rage in his mother’s eyes until the day she died.

      She might not want Matthew Chase to have this job, but she owed him a debt of thanks. Tristan meant the world to her. His arrival had let her see the good things in life again. The simple things. The sun coming up every day. The moon. The stars...when you could see them. Sapphire-blue eyes...

      She’d never once pictured herself being a mother before that night, but now she couldn’t imagine life without her full-of-beans toddler. Which meant she’d better get her act together and start behaving as if she wanted this job. And, no, she wasn’t going to play nicely. She didn’t want to share.

      She was more than capable of running the hospital’s A&E department on her own, and was prepared to prove it. Even if it meant getting a lump of coal in her Christmas stocking. From the bespoke cut of Matthew’s suit, he didn’t look as if he needed the money. But from the fire in his eyes he was no pushover.

      She put out her hand again and gave Matthew’s a short, sharp shake, ignoring the spray of heat shooting up her arm as she turned her full attention to Dr. Menzies.

      “I believe you and I have an appointment?”

      “That we do, my dear, that we do.”

      She threw a look over her shoulder as they entered the older doctor’s office and felt just the tiniest bit of smug satisfaction to see that Matthew was still watching. Hands resting on hips. Head shaking as if he’d just been diddled out of his last pound coin.

      She might not want his money, but she definitely wanted this job. It would mean a regular schedule, money to pay for a proper nanny and give her sainted aunt some more time for her art, and a chance for her to rediscover the woman she had been trying to become all those years ago. A good, honest, hard-working Wakehurst.

      Maybe seeing Matthew was a sign. A portent of good things yet to come. Like a job.

      She dropped him a wink and swung the door closed with a light swoop of her foot. Better luck next time, pal.

       CHAPTER THREE

      “THANK YOU SO much for your time.” Amanda gave Dr. Menzies a final handshake and smiled as he opened the door and they entered the waiting area outside his office together.

      It had been magicked into a Christmas grotto while they’d been talking.

      “Gosh, you’ve been busy decorating. Oops...” She held out a hand as Deena stretched up to the ceiling, one foot on her desk, the other lifting to an invisible step. “Need a hand?”

      Deena looked down from the desk and shook her head. “No, thanks. I think I’ve got the final bit of tinsel attached now. It’s Christmas or bust from here on out. Never met a holiday I couldn’t decorate the living daylights out of. Everything all right, Dr. Menzies?”

      She shifted gear into secretary mode as fluidly as if standing on top of her desk was the most normal thing in the world.

      “Yes, wonderful.”

      He reached out a hand and helped her step down on to her chair and then the floor. A well-practiced routine, from the looks of things.

      “Dr. Wakehurst and I have had quite the discussion.”

      Amanda tried to contain her satisfied smiled. Santa Claus had come to town after all.

      She had never been one to toot her own horn, but she knew she’d killed it in the interview. She’d hit every bullet point she’d prepared and then some.

      It had taken her a minute or two to compose herself after that completely out-of-character wink she’d given Matthew Chase to send him on his holly-jolly way, but having the A&E buzzing behind Dr. Menzies the entire time they’d been talking had been all Amanda needed to get back on track and strike all the right notes in the course of her interview.

      Something in her belly tingled. As if seeing Matthew had emboldened her rather than disarmed her. Hmm... She might as well throw her hat all the way into the ring.

      “If it’s all right, I’d love to start with a few shifts down in the ‘the pit’ as one of the team before this job share situation kicks into action.”

      “Isn’t that funny?”

      The voice might have come from behind her, but Amanda didn’t need to turn around to figure out who it belonged to. The smooth baritone was slipping down her spine as sensually as his hands had...taking their time...trailing along her back until they reached her dress’s zip...which hung just above the swoop of her derriere...and then—whoosh. No more dress.

      “I was just going to suggest the same thing.”

      Matthew stepped to Amanda’s side, eliciting a rush of goose pimples from her fingertips straight to the top of her head.

      “Great minds, eh, Ms. Wakehurst?”

      He turned to her, compelling her to meet his bright blue eyes.

      “Apologies. I didn’t catch it the first time round. Is it Miss or Mrs.?”

      “Doctor,” Amanda answered solidly.

      Matthew smiled. She could see he’d heard the message. It was none of his business.

      “Ah! Well, then...”

      Dr. Menzies’s anxious demeanor returned as he eyed the pair of them. Two hungry jungle cats in the same room was never a good idea.

      He drew his finger along his shirt collar and cleared his throat. “We are, of course, still finalizing exactly how this will work, and we hope to have everything solidly in place before the New Year. As I said—we’ve not entirely worked out the particulars. Perhaps in a week’s time...when we’ve had a moment to sort out schedules.”

      “I’d just as soon start now,” said Amanda, realizing as she spoke that Matthew was saying pretty much the exact same thing. “Happy to work through until a decision is made.”

      Swot.

      Hmm...

      She guessed she was too. But, unlike Sir Matthew, she had bills to pay.

      Amanda gave him a sidelong glance, only to have her gaze clash with the same color sapphire-blue eyes she saw as she tucked Tristan into bed every night. Her eyes widened as she watched him drop her a slow, black-lashed wink. His version of a touché, she supposed.

      Deena cleared her throat. “We’ve got a lot of holes to fill in the roster, Dr. M. All the way up to Christmas and through until the New Year. Matron’s been threatening to call every locum in a two-hundred-mile radius and blow next year’s budget if you—”

      “Yes, good. Right. Okay...” Dr. Menzies opened his palms and began to spread his arms open, as if that settled the matter.

      Deena continued almost playfully. “Shifts available right now, Dr. M. Matron says Dr. McBride’s head is about to start spinning if he doesn’t get more help.”

      “Ah, yes. Dr. McBride has been shouldering quite a lot of extra work lately...” Dr. Menzies shot a concerned look down to “the pit.”

      Amanda shifted uncomfortably. Of course she was keen to work, but she hadn’t meant right now.

      She began to craft a silent conversation with Auntie Florence, begging the four millionth favor since Tristan had been born. She knew her aunt didn’t mind. Much.

      But she was over sixty now, and even though she hadn’t said a word