The Magic Of Christmas. Sarah Morgan

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.

       She wasn’t supposed to be here.

      But how would she have guessed that a consultant from her department would pick this day to bring his children to visit Santa in his grotto? She’d left him dealing with a patient with a fractured femur. What was he doing here?

      Unsure what to do, she waited helplessly for the inevitable recognition. Perhaps her make-up disguised her features; perhaps she looked different in a tutu and tights; perhaps—

      ‘Hello again, Lara.’ His eyes—those sharp, sexy blue eyes that never missed anything—slid down her body, lingering on the bodice of her white tutu before sliding over the net and tulle to her shimmering tights.

      Her entire body heated under his blatantly masculine scrutiny and Lara wondered which was more embarrassing—being caught moonlighting or being caught moonlighting half-naked. It was a step up from being caught pole-dancing, she thought weakly, but not much.

      He dragged his gaze from her legs back to her eyes and they stood for a moment, staring at each other.

      Lara opened her mouth to break the tense silence, but no sound came out. Even breathing seemed a challenge.

      ‘Daddy?’ The girl in the pink coat tugged at his hand. ‘Why are you staring at the fairy?’

      Lara clutched at her wand. ‘Hi, there.’ Her voice sounded strangled. ‘I expect your dad is wondering whether I know any good spells. And I wish I did. I could do with a good disappearing spell right now. I don’t really mind who disappears—you or me. Either would be fine.’ Her feeble attempt at humour earned her a raised eyebrow and a sardonic glance that warned her of trouble.

      Panic wrestled with humour and humour won. What were the chances of a consultant from the emergency department turning up to see Father Christmas in the middle of his working day?

      Seeing the absurdity of it all, Lara started to laugh and the older girl looked at her with a question in her eyes.

      ‘Why are you laughing?’

      Lara’s eyes twinkled. ‘Because fairies are happy people,’ she said huskily, wondering what would happen now. It was her afternoon off but she knew that her contract didn’t allow her to work elsewhere. Would she lose her job? She was leaving in a month, of course, but she needed every last penny she could accumulate.

       Merry Christmas, Lara.

      The little girl who had been holding Christian’s hand danced forward, her blonde curls bouncing around her face. ‘Is it our turn now? Is he ready for us?’

      ‘He’s ready.’ Ignoring Christian’s intimidating frown, Lara dropped onto her knees so that she could concentrate on the child. What was the point in worrying? She couldn’t change the fact that he’d seen her. She may as well get on with the job, which was to entertain the children. ‘What’s your name?’

      ‘Aggie. And this is my big sister, Chloe, and this is my dad. We’re sort of in a hurry because Daddy has to go back to work.’