The Bodyguard's Christmas Proposal

by Charlotte Hawkes

  Or, more likely, both. And if it took more effort than it should have done to turn around and walk away from the pair of them, well, that could stay her guilty secret.

  * * *

  Kat raced through her task list. Somehow the prospect of returning to the hospital to Jamie, and to Logan, made the long-overdue errands far more palatable. Soon she was hurrying back through the doors to the main entrance and stowing her bags under the reception desk with a grateful smile.

  Threading her way through the visitors and mobile patients, Kat headed for the day care, only slowing down to soak up the sight of Jamie playing, happy and oblivious, with a little girl she recognised as the daughter of a cardiac consultant.

  A single mother. The thought sneaked into Kat’s brain, torturing her with images of Logan and Jamie playing happy families with the consultant and her daughter.

  What was wrong with her? She’d been over this. She wasn’t doing this because she wanted something more with Logan, she was just helping out a colleague who was trying to do a good Christmas deed for the kids. And the sooner she got Jamie out of there, the less chance there was that Logan would appear and his cover would be blown.

  Picking up her pace, Kat knocked on the door to the day care and waited for one of the assistants to let her in. And then, suddenly, as the door was opened to her and Kat looked inside, everything seemed to slow down.

  She saw the other child sitting on Jamie’s untied shoelace a fraction of a second before Jamie launched himself towards another toy. Instinct made her lunge forward, but she was too far away and he hit the floor with a thud, landing on his arm.

  He went from shouts of glee to shouts of pain in a split second. His cry was heart-wrenching.

  ‘Okay, sweetheart, you’re okay. I’m here,’ she said, reaching where he’d fallen and instinctively beginning to soothe him.

  But she could tell something was wrong. Just the way he was crying and holding his arm. It wasn’t quite right.

  ‘Let’s get him to X-Ray.’ She turned to one of the day-care workers. ‘And can you get Logan Connors? He’s probably in Paediatrics now.’

  * * *

  By the time Logan reached the orthopaedic trauma unit, his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he feared it was going to punch its way right through his ribs, Kat had the situation well in hand and was just finishing up a festive cast on Jamie’s right arm.

  ‘I’m so sorry, champ.’ He hugged Jamie as carefully as he could, trying to discreetly check his son in the process. ‘I’ve only just got the message.’

  ‘Look, Daddy, a Christmassy cast.’ Jamie shoved the fractured arm under his nose, his face surprisingly wreathed in a smile.

  The fear receded a little, but still he blew out a frustrated sigh as he turned to Kat.

  ‘I was just around the corner when the girl came in with the message, but no one realised it was me under that damned suit until now.’

  ‘It’s fine. We’re fine, right, Jamie?’

  ‘Fine,’ Jamie agreed easily. Kat had evidently worked her usual charm.

  On both of them.

  ‘Though I can see you surreptitiously trying to check him over,’ she commented dryly. ‘He has a physical stress fracture. He tripped over and used his hand to try to save himself. The wrist took the brunt of it and the cast is to help with the pain.’

  He raked his hand through his hair.

  ‘I came as soon as they told me, and I don’t want to leave him, but I haven’t finished the...’

  ‘Assignment?’ she supplied helpfully as he trailed off, glancing at Jamie, who was admiring the festive red colour of his cast.

  It was impossible to tell whether the little boy was listening or not.

  ‘Right.’ Logan nodded, grateful to her. ‘I ditched the...clothing outside.’

  It seemed he was often grateful to her. As well as something else that he was rapidly becoming sick of trying to fight.

  ‘It’s no problem. I can stay with Jamie.’

  ‘Thanks.’ His gratitude was evident. ‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  ‘Take your time,’ Kat suggested. ‘Better that you can’t be recognised.’

  ‘Who can’t be recognised?’ Jamie lifted his head curiously.

  Logan told himself it was the earlier fear, and not Kat, that had fuzzed his mind and left him uncharacteristically scrabbling for a quick response.

  ‘Your superhero daddy,’ Kat improvised, when he wasn’t fast enough.

  ‘Oh.’

  To his credit, Jamie looked a little confused before he seemed to shrug to himself and carry on with his proud inspection, just as one of the ortho nurses poked her head around the corner.

  ‘Kat, is this room free?’

  ‘Yeah, pretty much.’

  ‘I look like a robot.’ Jamie showed her proudly.

  ‘Yes, you do,’ the nurse enthused. ‘I think we’ve even got some special festive cast stickers at the nurses’ station. If you want to see, Kat, I can stay here with your patient and start clearing up. Oh...hi, Dr Connors.’

  ‘Afternoon,’ Logan managed politely, dropping a kiss on his son’s head and casting a grateful glance at Kat. ‘I’ll walk with you.’

  The sooner he was finished playing Santa, the sooner he could get back to Jamie. And to Kat.

  They were just hurrying out when he heard the nurse speak again, and they turned simultaneously, but it was too late.

  ‘So, little man, of all days you might have had to come to the hospital, today is the best one you could have picked. Because Santa Claus is in the main children’s ward right now.’

  ‘Oh, wow.’ Jamie shuffled his bottom off the bed, even as Logan felt his stomach clench in apprehension. ‘I’ve got something I really, really, really have to ask him.’

  Kat just looked horrified.

  ‘Oh, no, Jamie... I don’t think...’

  She tailed off as he cast her a devastated look.

  ‘I can’t meet Santa?’

  ‘Listen, champ...’ Logan began, but when Jamie’s eyes began to tear up he hesitated.

  His mind raced with what might happen if Jamie recognised him. But Jamie was only four, and he truly believed in Santa Claus. Would his son even recognise him in that padded suit complete with beard and glasses?

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ he relented, his heart in his mouth. ‘Just wait here a little longer whilst Kat gets your stickers, then maybe she’ll bring you along.’

  ‘You’re sure?’ Kat whispered nervously beside him.

  He wasn’t. But now the nurse had put the idea—however unwittingly—into his son’s head, how could he refuse? He’d just better hope that the disguise was a good as he thought it was.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ he assured Kat, turning his back so that Jamie couldn’t see him. ‘Just give me time to get back in there.’

  How was it that this one woman made him feel like anything was possible?

  And, more to the point, what was he going to do about it?

  * * *

  If he hadn’t been so on edge about his son watching him, Logan might have enjoyed the moment as Santa a little more.

  Child after child waited for their turn, telling Santa their name and their favourite things to do, and then the gift they wanted most. And despite the fact that he knew his fake accent was shockingly bad—a mixture of several accents he only half knew—Jamie didn’t appear to notice anything unusual.

  Even Kat, clearly tense when she’d first accompanied Jamie to the ward, was now beginning to relax. Logan took that as a good sign.

  Finally, it was Jamie’s turn, and he liked the way Kat followed the little boy up to where he sat, ready to help Jamie onto his knee so that he didn’t damage his injured wrist.

  She caught his eye as he lifted his son up, that tell-tale flush creeping down her cheeks. He
still affected her, which meant that her cold-shoulder treatment over the past two weeks was about her vulnerability, not about the fact that she wasn’t still attracted to him.

  The thing was, he wanted more than just her being attracted to him. But what exactly did that mean? For himself, but also for Jamie? His son might love her company now, but that didn’t mean he would feel the same if Kat was in their life more frequently.

  Maybe that would be too much for a young four-year-old whose mother had never really been present, even when she’d been around.

  And then Logan caught Kat’s eye and something rushed him, chasing all the thoughts from his head. Right up until the moment his son started to speak.

  ‘I’m Jamie. I’m four.’

  ‘Hello, Jamie, who is four,’ Logan drawled in a stranger’s voice, quite convincingly to his mind. ‘And what are your favourite things to do?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Jamie cocked his head, stroking his four-year-old chin thoughtfully in some imitation of something he’d clearly seen.

  Logan smothered a snort of laughter whilst Kat, as far as he could see, was doing little to keep her shoulders from shaking. But he wasn’t prepared when Jamie eyed him quite conspiratorially and started to speak.

  ‘I like the park with Daddy. And with Kat. And I like Kat baking with me. And I like it when Daddy is happy.’

  He was spinning madly. Wildly. He could feel himself, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He would never know how he managed to make any kind of response.

  ‘And...what would you like for Christmas?’ he choked out, not that Jamie seemed to notice.

  His little son was too caught up in his own thoughts.

  ‘The only thing I want for Christmas is for Kat to be my mommy.’

  Everything seemed to stand still. Logan wasn’t even sure if his brain was working.

  The simplicity, and impossibility, of the request rocketed through him.

  When he’d wondered how Jamie would feel about Kat being a bigger part of their lives, he hadn’t anticipated this. How did he even begin to answer such a wish?

  ‘Jamie, I can’t...’

  And even though he’d forgotten the accent, and the fact that he was Santa and not Jamie’s daddy, none of it mattered. Because Jamie was staring at him earnestly.

  ‘Daddy loves Kat. Kat loves me. Daddy loves me. Kat loves Daddy.’ He ticked them off in his little hands as though he was forty, not four.

  ‘Jamie...’

  ‘Nana says they do,’ he continued blithely. ‘I heard her tell Gramps.’

  Logan felt a pang of compassion for his mother. She would be mortified if she knew Jamie had overheard her.

  But that didn’t make it true. He and Kat had an agreement. No strings, no hassle. And it had been working just fine for them so far.

  Hadn’t it?

  Suddenly he couldn’t be sure any more.

  ‘I tell you what, ch... Jamie,’ he corrected just in time. His son would realise his true identity immediately if Santa slipped up and called him champ. ‘I can’t make any guarantees, but what if I promise to see what I can do?’

  Jamie swivelled his head and fixed him with a bright, trusting gaze. But Logan was even more aware of Kat’s shocked, deeply unhappy expression.

  ‘You’re Santa,’ Jamie declared confidently. ‘You can do it.’

  It took all of Logan’s not inconsiderable acting skills—and he was never more relieved that he was a doctor, not an actor—to carry on after his young son clambered down from his knee and the remainder of the kids took their turns.

  He barely knew what he was saying to them, his mind still locked firmly on Jamie, and on Kat.

  Less than an hour ago he’d been acknowledging that Kat had changed his life. That things he’d thought impossible a few months ago were starting to feel real. Like opening up his life—and Jamie’s—to someone new.

  No, not just to someone. To Kat.

  But it had taken his four-year-old son for him to finally acknowledge exactly what he’d meant by that. Exactly how much he wanted Kat in his life. In their lives. Making them better, fuller, happier. And how was it that even his mother had seen it before he had?

  Still, his mind whirred with exactly where he was supposed to go from here.

  The next hour passed in a blur. It felt like an eternity before he was able to politely excuse himself, go and change and return to Jamie, but he knew he must have done all right when the ward manager thanked him profusely afterwards.

  Still, a part of him knew that once he collected Jamie from her, Kat would dart off. She would do everything she could to avoid having a conversation with him about what she’d overheard Jamie say.

  And when, indeed, that was exactly what she did, it was almost like a triumph to realise that he could read Kat Steel precisely as well as he’d imagined that he could. That he could knew her better than she knew herself. That she wanted to be with him—and with Jamie—as much as he’d thought she did.

  Perhaps all he needed to do was to convince her how much he wanted them to be a family? Kat and him and Jamie.

  And, in time, expand their family further?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘WHAT ARE YOU doing here, Logan?’

  Leaning one arm on the doorjamb to Kat’s apartment, he cocked his head to one side and there was little use her pretending that the whole world wasn’t tipping, shifting in his presence.

  ‘Is that any way to greet Santa Claus?’ he demanded. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

  ‘First, you aren’t dressed as Santa any more,’ she pointed out, with no idea how she kept her voice even. ‘And second, no.’

  But she didn’t close the door in his face, which she knew revealed to him a lot more than her words had. She wasn’t surprised when he eyed her curiously.

  ‘Are you mad because you didn’t want me to answer Jamie, or are you mad because you did?’

  Kat narrowed her eyes at him and tried to stand taller. To exude a confidence that she didn’t really feel.

  ‘I’m not mad,’ and she wasn’t entirely lying. ‘If anything, I’m...confused about why you gave a four-year-old boy false hope.’

  And not only Jamie. He’d given her false hope, too. Perhaps that was the part about which she was maddest.

  ‘Is it?’

  She blinked, not following his question.

  ‘Is it what?’

  ‘False hope?’ He took a step forward and she backed up into her apartment.

  Logan promptly followed her inside, as though he thought that was the closest thing he was going to get to an invitation. As though he didn’t realise how close she stood to the edge. Or how that edge was crumbling with every second she spent in his company. All because she wanted him.

  She’d never stopped wanting him.

  ‘Of course it’s false hope.’ She dragged her mind desperately back to the conversation. ‘We agreed this was just no-commitment fun.’

  ‘It was.’ He shrugged. ‘Until it changed.’

  ‘It didn’t change for me.’ She shook her head.

  ‘Liar.’ He chuckled, and that threw her as he’d known it would. ‘I saw your face yesterday. I know you feel something more.’

  ‘You’re wrong.’ The denial tipped out, only to fall—hollow and leaden—to the floor.

  His eyes gleamed. Hot and hungry, and rolling through her like the most beautiful storm.

  ‘Am I really wrong, Kat?’ he asked softly.

  And when she didn’t answer him—when she couldn’t answer him—his voice became even softer again.

  ‘Why don’t we put it to the test?’

  She swayed. She didn’t mean to but she felt herself doing it all the same. She shifted her gaze around the room, from one thing to another as though she couldn’t find something to focus on, to keep herself
upright.

  ‘I don’t need to put it to the test,’ she answered at last in a thin, reedy voice. ‘I don’t want to commit to someone. I don’t think I ever will.’

  ‘But how will you ever know, if you never let anyone close enough to find out?’

  She could feel the moment things turned. The moment she went from cold disengagement to allowing her emotions to show. Or perhaps it was less about allowing her emotions out and more about no longer being able to contain them.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she threw at him, wanting to bite back every word but unable to do so. ‘I did let someone close. Once. And they walked away from me.’

  Yet even as she said it, it occurred to Kat that she was comparing Logan to Kirk, when really there was no question which was the man and which had merely been a boy pretending to be a man.

  Still, it shocked her when Logan’s face twisted into a look of disdain.

  ‘You hang everything on a four-year-old girl. But she didn’t walk away from you. She didn’t even have a choice in the matter.’

  He thought this was about Carrie?

  But, then, of course he would, because he didn’t know any different.

  Kat shook her head. Inside it felt as though she was breaking. Shattering into a million tiny fragments. And every single one of them shredded her like a million tiny paper cuts as they went.

  ‘Do you really think I’m that shallow?’

  ‘No,’ he answered simply. ‘I don’t think that’s who you are at all. Not deep down. But it’s what you’ve told me.’

  Sorrow scraped inside her, paring away at her. Keeping away from him had been the right thing to do because now, face to face with him, she could feel her resolve crumbling away. As if it was no more substantial than a badly baked gingerbread man—like the kind Jamie had said Logan had made.

  She should ask him to leave. But she couldn’t.

  ‘It’s part of what I’ve told you, Logan,’ she confessed. ‘But it isn’t everything.’

  ‘Then what is?’

  ‘What does it matter?’ she cried. Frustration and grief worked their way up, as though they could suddenly see an outlet and refused to be contained any longer. ‘We agreed to fun, nothing more. But now Jamie is caught up in the middle of things, and we can’t offer him what he wants. More than that, what he wants is impossible.’