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.’ She leaned forward, her voice a loud whisper. ‘My daddy is very clever. He’s a doctor and he mends people who break themselves.’
Mends people? Well aware of Christian’s skills in the resuscitation room, Lara decided that it wasn’t a bad description of his job. ‘Right…’ She cleared her throat. ‘In that case, we’d better get you in to see Father Christmas as fast as possible so that your dad can get back to work.’
Aggie reached out a hand and touched her wings. ‘Are you a real fairy?’
Lara smiled. ‘What do you think?’
‘I think you’re probably a girl dressed up as a fairy,’Aggie said slowly, ‘but you’re very pretty.’
‘Oh—well—thank you. That’s very sweet of you.’ For the second time in one day Lara was suddenly aware of Christian’s intent masculine appraisal and she blushed and waved a hand. ‘Isn’t life a weird thing? I go through twenty-five years with no one telling me I look good and suddenly I get told twice in one afternoon. It must be my lucky day. And Father Christmas is waiting. Go on through.’ She urged the children forward, intending to follow them, but strong fingers closed around her wrist, preventing her escape.
‘And just what,’ he demanded in a cool voice, ‘is an ED nurse doing dressed up as a fairy in a Christmas grotto? I think some explaining is in order, Staff Nurse King.’
His head was close to hers and she was suddenly engulfed by an explosion of awareness that astonished her. He’s married with two adorable kids, she reminded herself. What was the matter with her?
Reluctantly, she turned her head to look at him. His blue eyes held hers for a long moment and she felt the strength in her knees vanish. His eyelashes were long and thick and served to accentuate the sensuality of his amazing blue eyes. Strands of dark hair flopped over his forehead, the beginnings of stubble hazed his jaw and he looked nothing like the cool, forbidding consultant she was used to seeing at work.
Someone hand the man a stethoscope, she thought desperately. Anything to remind her who he was.
Lara forced herself to breathe evenly in an attempt to stabilise her churning insides. ‘It’s my afternoon off,’ she croaked, ‘and I thought I’d—I’d—’
‘Dress as a fairy?’
‘I can explain—sort of.’
‘You’re
