The Billionaire's Christmas Wish. Tina Beckett

that the dog and his handler, Alana, came by most days to visit the different pediatric areas. The family suites were probably some of the last on the list today. But Evie had said the pair would be by soon.

      “Yes, this morning. He was so sweet and nice. I really would love...” Ivy’s eyes went to Theo, and then her shoulders slumped. “Oh, well.”

      Madison’s heart cramped. The little girl had almost blurted out that she wanted a dog. Maybe she should have. It was better for Theo to give her a definite answer than for Ivy to pine after something she might never have.

      Like the love of a mother?

      Madison’s breath stalled for a few painful seconds.

      Ivy’s mom had died, but surely she’d loved her daughter.

      That didn’t make the loss any easier. But at least she hadn’t simply wandered in and out of Ivy’s life, until one day she hadn’t been there at all—leaving a heartbroken child to wonder what she’d done to make her mother go away.

      Was she thinking of Ivy? Or herself?

      Madison had done the rounds in various foster homes after her mom had disappeared. Finally, she’d been sent to a group home when she’d been a teenager, where she’d stayed until she’d graduated from high school.

      The chaos of moving from place to place had made it hard to develop long-term friendships. Maybe that was why she preferred working on her own. And why colleagues saw her as aloof and unfriendly. She’d relied on herself for so long that she didn’t know how to ask for help. Or to trust that someone would catch her if she fell.

      “I didn’t realize they brought the dog in here.” Theo’s low voice was neutral. A little too neutral.

      “They did, and I loved him so much. He even fell asleep on my bed while I was stroking him.” She pulled her covers up to her thin chest. “Do you think Doodle can come and see me again?”

      Theo moved from his position against the wall to sit in a chair beside her bed. “I’ll have to see how those visits work, exactly, but I think it can be arranged if you would like that.”

      “Oh, I would!”

      Theo glanced at Madison with brows that went up slightly. In accusation? Had Ivy shared with him her desire for a puppy of her own, or...and here went her wandering thoughts once again...had he looked inside that notebook after all? She gave a slight shake of her head to indicate she hadn’t put Ivy up to it.

      “They’ve been trying to bring him by to visit all of the children before Christmas. He’s been wearing his elf hat, since he’s one of Santa’s helpers.” She hoped he’d understand what she was trying to say, that they were linking the visits with the man the hospital had hired to play Santa. “I guess it was just Ivy’s turn for a special visit.”

      “I guess it was. An elf, huh?” His voice, like his eyes, had a speculative sound to it. So what if he thought she was behind Doodle’s visit or that she was inserting herself where she wasn’t welcome? Once they were alone, she would set him straight. Or maybe she would ask Evie to make Ivy a priority and have the labradoodle stop by more often.

      Although why she wanted to make him uneasy, she had no idea. A little quid pro quo for the way he hung around in her thoughts—where he most definitely was not welcome?

      “Yep, an elf. It seems Santa sometimes uses locals to help him do his work.”

      “And sometimes he uses people from a long way away to do his miracles.” The graveled plea behind the words made her tummy twist and turn.

      So much for a quid pro quo. Any desire to make him uncomfortable vanished, replaced by a plea of her own.

       Please don’t pin all your hopes on me.

      And yet he was. She knew it. Knew he’d called her to come to the hospital because of this very skill set. Normally Madison thrived under that kind of high-pressure atmosphere, the urgency making her job exciting and unpredictable. Her mind seemed to revel in taking a scattered array of seemingly unconnected symptoms and somehow fitting them together.

      Only she’d never been colleagues with a parent before. Or connected with a child the way she had with this one.

      Her fingers tweaked Ivy’s hair and she forced a smile, pretending the wordplay hadn’t suddenly become deadly serious. “Miracles can come from many different sources.”

      “Will Pablo get a miracle?” The little girl glanced up at her.

      Madison saw Theo go still at the mention of the little boy diagnosed with muscular dystrophy who’d been a couple of doors down from Ivy’s room until they’d moved him to PICU.

      Madison swallowed. “Pablo left today.” She tried to put enough subtle emphasis on the word “left” that Theo would realize she wasn’t talking about going home.

      A muscle went to work in his jaw, pulsing a couple of times before going quiet. He got it.

      He lowered himself into a nearby chair, elbows on his knees, head down.

      Thinking about how Pablo could just as easily have been his daughter?

      Unwilling to leave him to figure out a way to respond to Ivy’s question about miracles—or the lack thereof—Madison spoke up. “Why don’t we see if we can challenge your dad to a game of Go Fish?”

      Up came Theo’s head, eyes fixed on her. “Go Fish?”

      Those two words had never sounded as elegant as they did in that accent of his. It forced a smile from her.

      “It’s a card game that uses a special deck.” She never knew what kind of cases she might be called in on, so she’d gotten used to carrying a pack in one of her pockets. Sometimes getting someone’s mind off an illness helped calm nerves, whether it be children, parents, or anyone else. She’d been kind of famous for producing that deck of cards at her hospital in the U.S., had often being called on to help calm a child who was being prepared for surgery. It was the one time she’d felt wanted—needed—for something other than her skills at diagnosis.

      “I know what it is. I’m just not sure how you’re going to manage—”

      Out came the pack of cards. Theo’s head gave a funny little tilt as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

      “Now I’ve seen everything.” His glance landed on her. “Madison the magician.”

      The way he’d said that...

      A shiver rolled over her that she did her best to suppress.

      “It’s good therapy for cognitive and fine motor skills.”

      And it gave Madison a way to observe her patients, looking for any tiny changes that she might miss otherwise. If she played a quick game over a period of a couple of weeks—or months—she could see disease progression. The first game gave her a base from which to compare progress or deterioration. In this case, she prayed she wouldn’t see the latter.

      She let the magician comment stand, instead of going into that kind of explanation. Maybe later.

      Nodding at the spot on the bed next to her, she said, “Move closer, Doc, so I can deal.”

      There was a moment’s hesitation, but he finally got up and sat on the mattress, watching as she dealt the first hand and placed the rest of the deck face down between them. She hoped he didn’t see the slight tremor in her hand as she did so.

      Although she’d come prepared to play, Theo’s presence was threatening to derail her. And although she’d invited him to sit next to her, she was now wishing she hadn’t. She was hyper-aware of everything about him. His scent. The way the fingers of his left hand rested on his thigh.

      The way he was avoiding looking at her.

      Lordy. She was in trouble.

      When dealing with children, she sometimes