was more than most single mothers had. A lot more.
She parted her lips, about to ask how deep a salary cut she’d be taking, then thought better of it. The job was round the corner from her house, in a department that brought her to life in a way no other area of medicine did. And right before Christmas beggars couldn’t really be choosers. Just thinking of putting herself up for more overnight locum shifts made her tired.
Deena flicked her pen in the direction of Dr. Menzies’s office. “He’s just finishing up with an appointment. If you’d like to take a seat, he shouldn’t be long.”
“The other candidate?”
The PA gave a shrug, but with enough leeway for interpretation that Amanda knew that was precisely who was inside.
Amanda watched as Deena’s eyes traveled from the door to some mistletoe hanging above her desk.
Hmm...
From what she’d heard, Dr. Menzies was old enough to be Deena’s father, so... Her job share partner must be good-looking. She cleared her throat and sniffed. Didn’t matter. She was immune to romance. Whoever was in that office was the competition, and nothing was going to stand in the way of providing for her son.
Amanda’s gaze shifted toward the door. She tipped her head to the side, wishing she possessed some sort of lopsided superhero power to see through hard wood. There was the muffled flow of voices. Both male.
Most likely the old boys’ club. She could picture it perfectly. A promise of the top job made over cigars and tumblers of whiskey in an exclusive members’ club, no doubt. She could almost hear the tinkle of ice cubes against heavy crystal as they toasted the new Divisional Medical Director in front of a roaring fire.
She shuddered at the thought. It was how her father always did business...
So much for stuffing herself into this stupid form-fitting suit and tippy-toeing across the square in these ridiculous high heels. She should have just worn scrubs and her favorite running shoes, because from the looks of things she was going back to locum shifts at whatever trauma center would take her. The regular hours of this job would have been a godsend, but...
As per usual, it seemed that heaven was putting a hold on doling out any brownie points she might have earned up to this point.
Both women started at the eruption of a huge chorus of laughter coming from Dr. Menzies’ office.
Just as she’d suspected: Old Boys’ Club.
Her fingers tightened round the straps of her handbag. If she was going to go down she was going to go down fighting.
Having Tristan had necessitated dropping out of “the game” for a while. For the first three months Amanda’s entire life had revolved around diapers, breastfeeding and laundry. Once Tristan had got the knack of sleeping through the night she’d started picking up shifts here and there, without bothering to take part in the “let’s meet for a drink” charade. Why should she when her number one priority was her son?
Work. Parenting. That was all she had time for. Before that it had just been work. And before that...
She screwed her eyes tight and pressed her fingers to them, as if it would squish the memories away. Before that nothing.
She gave herself a quick shake and pasted on her smile. Another laugh sounded from the room, chased up with more rapid-fire male conversation she couldn’t make out through the thick door.
Suddenly exhausted at the idea of going through the mockery of this “interview,” Amanda was sorely tempted to lean in, scratch her name out in Deena’s appointment book and scarper when the door handle turned and the door opened. Two men emerged, shaking hands, clapping each other on the shoulder as if in congratulations of some sort of excellent deal made.
She didn’t stand a chance in—
“Hell.”
Amanda’s fingers flew to her mouth. She was shocked the word had escaped her lips. Her lungs ached for air as an atom bomb of emotion detonated in her chest. And just as abruptly everything stopped. The roar of blood between her ears. The blurred vision. Her heartbeat.
Nature’s way of allowing the rest of her body to process seeing the one man who had proved to her that life was still worth living. The one man who had changed everything.
Matthew Chase.
Her tongue instinctively swiped at her lips. Even from a distance she could taste him as if it was yesterday.
One part sweet to one part salty. Vintage champagne and top-of-the-line caviar, if she remembered correctly. And she had an excellent memory. Besides, her parents never threw a party that swung anywhere close to below the top line.
The third part of his taste...the spice...that had been pure, unchecked desire.
Dark hair and bright blue eyes were a personal weakness for her, and on that early spring night she had wanted more than anything to succumb. To slide her fingers into the dark silky hair just threatening to turn into curls around his shirt collar. To spend unchecked minutes gazing into his sapphire-bright eyes, trying to divine what stories might lie in the kaleidoscope of blue that lay within them.
To feel anything. She’d been numb for so long she’d hardly known what to do with herself.
Matthew Chase had been the first person to remind her of the spark buried so deep in her heart she’d all but forgotten it had ever existed.
Amanda could feel Deena’s curious gaze on her now. And Dr. Menzies’s. But she still couldn’t move. She was a deer caught in the headlights of the one powerhouse of energy and seduction she had never expected to lay eyes on again.
Matthew’s scent—aura, more like—was another thing altogether. And when he took a step toward her there was a swirl of... How on earth did he smell like a Nordic woodsman peeling a blood orange in the center of London? In a hospital, no less?
It was all she could do to keep her knees doing their job.
The heat blazing from his bright blue eyes struck her like bolts of lightning. This meeting was obviously as unexpected to him as it was to her.
A one-night stand.
That was all it was ever meant to have been.
It was all it had been for him.
But...
If she closed her eyes Amanda knew flashes of that night would come back to her so vividly it would be like living it all over again.
He’d seen her first. She’d known that because she’d felt his gaze on her from across the room as intensely as she was feeling it now. He hadn’t just looked. His gaze had felt...tactile. As if he had already been undressing her. And when their eyes had met...
Fireworks.
One of those hits of recognition some people waited a lifetime for and never had. She had known that having it that night was a lifeline. A sign from above—or wherever signs come from—that she shouldn’t give up. Not just yet.
She cleared her throat
