Her Knight Under the Mistletoe

by Annie O'Neil

  “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 she’d noticed Florence had been going to bed earlier for the past week or two. Besides, she hardly wanted her aunt’s life to be consumed by the fact her wayward niece had had a son out of wedlock and sought refuge with her, rather than crawl back to her parents and beg forgiveness.

  A lifetime of living under her parents’ judgmental gazes? Unh-unh. She’d had it from both ends of the spectrum, and refused to let anyone who supposedly “loved” her judge her again. Love should be love. And it should not come with a rulebook.

  “Seeing as the lie of the land is pretty frenetic...it probably would be a good idea for the both of you to get a feel for the hospital. See how the place ticks.”

  Dr. Menzies glanced unnecessarily to the steady flow of doctors, nurses and patients one floor below them, then abruptly focused in on Amanda.

  “Will this short notice be all right for you to sort out arrangements for your son?”

  Ice ran through Amanda’s veins. She could feel Matthew rise up to his full height behind her. He knew nothing about her child. Of course he didn’t. And Dr. Menzies certainly didn’t know Tristan was Matthew’s son.

  “I didn’t realize you were a mother.” Matthew’s blue eyes blazed with curiosity.

  “There’s no reason for you to know anything about me.”

  She distinctly remembered avoiding all of his questions that night, finally stemming the flow of Who are you? and Where did you come from? with heated kiss after kiss.

  “I thought you two had met?” Confusion washed across Dr. Menzies’s eyes.

  “Not formally,” they answered in tandem, tension tightening both their voices.

  Plowing through the taut atmosphere, Dr. Menzies continued, “So you’ll be able to arrange care for him at short notice?”

  “That’s right.” Amanda nodded, refusing to show any chink in her armor.

  Any more details and Matthew was going to put two
and two together. The last thing she wanted was to expose her son to a man she knew wouldn’t be interested in being a father. She knew that pain in the very center of her heart.

  She pasted on her “everything’s fine” face, offered them both bright smiles and said, “If you’ll excuse me? I just need to make a quick call.”

  * * *

  A kid, huh? Well, so much for a few extracurricular forbidden nights under the mistletoe with the Ice Queen.

  Matthew didn’t bother undoing all his shirt buttons once he’d hung his suit jacket up in the nearest locker. Just pulled the thing off in a oner. More efficient.

  Just like his usual One Night Only policy. He didn’t do relationships. Didn’t really even do dating. If you got attached to people sooner or later you let them down. And he was carrying around enough guilt to bury the whole of London without adding more weight to his shoulders.

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair as harrowing memories from his teens began to crowd out the racier ones he’d been having about Amanda.

  He’d not had a chance to check her ring finger for signs of a permanent attachment. And she had dismissed his attempts to enquire about her marital status.

  Work. He needed to get some scrubs on and get out on the floor.

  December was a rough month for him. Any spare time meant thinking about his brother. Going through That Day with a fine-toothed comb trying to think if there was anything he could have done to stop Charlie from taking that awful final step. Every single time he found fault after fault...with himself.

  Which was precisely why getting to work and proving this job was already running through his veins was vital. He hadn’t been man enough then...he sure as hell was going to prove he was now.

  Compared to the cases he had dealt with out in Afghanistan and Syria, most inner city A&E patients were a doddle. But this time of year meant a lot of people were weighing up the pros and cons of their lives. Taking stock. What was it the Beatles had said about all the lonely people?

  He wondered if the countless suicides over the course of the holiday season ever thought of all the broken hearts they’d leave behind.

  He slammed his locker door shut, willing the dark thoughts to stay in there. Hidden.

  While he was at it, he might as well rip any notion of extracurriculars with Amanda off his Christmas wish list. If he had one.

  He slipped his trousers off, yanked open the locker door again and rammed the dark chinos into the locker before snapping a pair of dark blue scrubs out to full length and stuffing his legs into them one by one.

  Just feeling the soft cotton move along his legs reminded him of the slip and shift of the hotel sheets as Amanda had made full use of her flexibility.

  He swung the locker door back and forth. Maybe she’d consider...

  Slam.

  Why waste time speculating? They’d had a don’t ask, don’t tell thing going on that night and it had been near enough three years ago. No point in wondering what might have been.

  Besides, it might be fun working with her. Interesting to see just how much of an “anything you can do I can do better” vibe he could create out in the A&E. It would keep his mind off picturing her naked, anyway.

  He grinned and crossed to the mirror, tugging his fingers through his hair, trying to put it back into some semblance of publicly acceptable. He caught a glint in his eye as he did.

  Who was he kidding? Nothing would stop him from picturing Amanda Wakefield naked.

  A few moments later and he was ready for action.

  He pressed open the door leading to the busy A&E department and breathed it in as if it were pure oxygen. He loved this. The chaos. The constant action. The demands upon a doctor to react and react and react, because every patient was important and every patient deserved his best.

  He caught the eye of a doctor putting notes on the assignments board. What was it Deena had said his name was? McBride?

  He strode past a couple of elderly women sitting in wheelchairs and narrowly dodged a paramedic team running in with a man on a gurney complaining of severe chest pain.

  “All the resus bays are full—you’re going to have to put him in the corridor.”

  Dr. McBride’s brow was creased as he pointed the paramedics to a spot further along the corridor. He obviously wasn’t happy with the situation.

  “Dr. Matthew Chase.” He put out his hand for a quick handshake, then flicked his head toward the gurney the paramedics were steering to a spot against a wall as they called for a crash cart. “Want me to see to that?”

  “Be my guest. We’ve got seventy-two patients on the list. Half of them have been here for hours without so much as an initial examination.”

  Matthew blew out a low whistle. Well above capacity. He’d thought it looked busy from up in Dr. Menzies’s office, but maybe this job share thing wasn’t such a ridiculous idea after all. Then again, the crush of patients wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before out on the battlefield. Too many people needing attention, never enough doctors to help. Just like life, really. Same ol’, same ol’—and he was ready to get to it.

  “Already on it.”

  As Matthew turned toward his patient he caught a glimpse of Amanda wearing a set of pale blue scrubs and approaching Dr. McBride. She looked across, caught his eye, and just as quickly looked away. He guessed she was ready to hit the ground running, too.

  He knew he shouldn’t be smiling as he turned around to help the paramedics preparing to hand over their patient, but there had been something about the look Amanda had shot him...

  It was game on all the way—and he was ready to play.

  “Aspirin? Nitroglycerin?” Matthew asked one of the paramedics.

  “Yes, mate.” The paramedic detailed the amounts and then continued. “He’s complaining of vice-like pain round the chest. Vomited on the way over. Ashen complexion. A-type myocardial infarction.”

  His eyes shot to the monitor one of the nurses was attaching to his chest.

  “He was in the middle of his lunch, poor bloke.” He glanced at the monitors and as if on cue the heartbeat performed. “ECG consistent with anthro!”

  Matt circled round, helping the team pull the bed away from the wall, issuing instructions as he went. “Find the radiographer—anybody as long as they’re staff.”

  He didn’t know the team, but A&E crews rarely did know each other. Mostly they were locums, making two to three times what the die-hard staffers took home. From the looks of some of the baby-faced white coats bringing patients in and out of the exam areas there were a lot of freshly minted newbies on tonight.

  “You boys all right to see this through?” Matthew asked the men who’d brought the patient in.

  The lead paramedic raised his hands in apology, “Sorry, mate. Busy night.”

  And off they went.

  It was obvious the man would need immediate treatment. He saw a patient being wheeled out of one of the resus rooms toward Recovery and made a beeline for it with his newly adopted team.

  “Can we get some anesthetic on to his wrist?” he asked the nurse who had been securing all the monitoring equipment onto the patient. “Do we have a name?”

  “Mr. Rumsey,” the nurse said, swiftly applying a topical numbing agent as Matthew prepared to insert the cardiac catheter.

  “Okay, Mr. Rumsey, we’re going to take good care of you, all right?”

  The sixty-something gentleman nodded, unable to catch his breath enough to speak.

  After a quick scan of the ECG, Matthew lowered his voice to ask the nurse if there was a free cardiac cath lab.

  The red-headed man in his twenties shook his head. “There is, but there’s a queue. Always is,” he muttered darkly.

  A sharp, solid tone sounded from the monitor.

  “He’s coding
!”

  Matthew gave the patient’s sternum a quick hard rub. No response.

  “Need an extra pair of hands?”

  Matthew looked up, grateful to see Amanda slipping through the door.

  “The more the merrier. You happy to go on top?”

  She shot him a sharp look.

  If he’d had time to relive that moment when she’d been starkers and climbing on top him as if he was a chocolate-covered Mount Everest he would have—but there was a life at stake.

  She climbed onto the edge of the patient’s gurney. “You ready with oxygen?”

  Matthew nodded after checking Mr. Rumsey’s airways were clear, feeling for a carotid pulse at the same time. He gave a quick shake of the head. Nothing.

  “Beginning compressions.”

  “Ready with the crash cart?” Matthew waited until a nurse who’d joined the team gave him a nod. “Pause for air,” he said needlessly.

  Amanda, had already raised her hands, saying, “Twenty-nine, thirty...” as she did so.

  Matthew held the bag valve mask in place while the nurse gave two full presses of oxygen before quickly applying the defibrillator pads to the patient’s chest.

  “How are you doing up there?”

  Matt gave Amanda a quick glance. Her cheeks were pinking up as she poured her energies into the powerful compressions required to keep blood flowing into the patient’s heart.

  “Hands up! Are we clear?”

  Matthew administered the shock pads to Mr. Rumsey’s chest. They waited in silence. Nothing.

  “Compressions.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he could see Amanda continuing the strong, steady compressions.

  “Charging.”

  “Twenty-one, twenty-two...”

  She was quietly counting under her breath. She had a nice voice. A lovely voice. Especially when she was murmuring naughty promises into his ear.

  A distracting voice.

  He checked the monitor again, realigning his focus.

  “Clear!” He applied the shock to the patient’s chest again, waited...and a whoosh of oxygen escaped his own lungs as he heard the telltale beeps indicating a restored heartbeat.