Single Dad In Her Stocking. Alison Roberts

      ‘She’s here, Max. With an apology for being a bit late but she said the traffic on the M40 was diabolical. There’d been a crash.’

      ‘No problem. At least she’s here now. Thanks, Miriam. Can you give her a really quick tour of the department to get her up to speed to start her first shift tomorrow morning and then bring her in here? I’ve got a couple of things I must finish but then I’ll be heading off to Upper Barnsley. I’ll need to be there when the children arrive.’

      ‘Of course. You’ll be wanting to give her the keys and any instructions for your apartment?’

      ‘I think it would be polite to actually show her the apartment myself. It’s only a few minutes’ walk away, after all. It’s not going to hold me up. Oh...’ Max lifted an eyebrow. ‘What’s her name?’

      ‘Emma...something. Sounded Italian but I can’t remember. She looks competent, though.’ Miriam’s mouth twitched. ‘I’m sure you’ll approve.’

      Max cringed just a little at the inference he couldn’t miss. Yes, he appreciated good-looking women and there never seemed to be a shortage of contenders to fill the inevitably changing position as his out-of-work-hours companion but there was something in his senior nurse’s expression that made him think his reputation might not be something to be proud of. Well, it was irrelevant now, anyway. Even if he had any opportunities to meet someone new in the foreseeable future, he wouldn’t be able to take advantage of them. He had other, far more pressing, responsibilities that were due to land on his doorstep in—he swallowed hard as he glanced at his watch—only a hour or two from now.

      He turned his attention back to the computer screen in front of him. There were a few last-minute adjustments to make to the rosters to ensure that this department ran as smoothly as possible while he couldn’t be here. He needed to give this Emma his personal mobile number as well so he could be on call to give her any advice if she needed it.

      An Emma with an Italian-sounding surname was ringing a vague bell in the back of his mind as he pulled up a spreadsheet. It came with an image of a laughing young woman surrounded by children, holding a baby that had his hands tangled in her long ponytail. A quintessential ‘earth mother’ type, which, of course, had made her an absolute ‘no-go’ type for Max—no matter how gorgeous those generous curves and dark eyes and that smile had been.

      Good grief...that had been ten years ago but the memory was astonishingly clear, now that he had dredged it up. They’d both been junior doctors on a paediatric ward at the same time. And her name was Emma...dammit...what had her surname been?

      ‘Moretti.’

      Max’s gaze flicked up to the figure standing in the doorway of his office. He’d been totally lost in thought and the fact that the answer to his internal query was being answered in person had just thrown him completely.

      ‘I’m Emma Moretti,’ she said, coming further into the small space. ‘Miriam said to pop in and see you?’

      Was it really the same woman? This Emma Moretti was nothing like the one Max had just been remembering. She was slim and smartly dressed and had short, spiky dark hair like a brunette pixie. She wasn’t smiling but her eyes were certainly dark enough. Almost as black as her hair. And she was staring at him with just the same astonished intensity that he knew he was subjecting her to.

      ‘Max? No way...’ Her lips were curving into a smile now and, suddenly, Max could see the woman he remembered. The life and soul of any party, especially if there were children involved. And that thought led straight to another party he couldn’t help but remember. The Christmas function for the staff of that paediatric ward. That sprig of mistletoe he’d held over Emma’s head. That kiss... The way they’d both laughed and blamed it on the prosecco because they couldn’t have been more wrong for each other.

      Emma was still smiling. ‘I knew the HOD was a Dr Cunningham, but I never for a moment thought it might be you. I would have imagined you to be living in a place like New York by now. Or Sydney, maybe.’

      A large, vibrant city that would be a perfect social playground for someone with a reputation like himself? That cringeworthy moment he’d had earlier came back to bite a little harder. Ten years on and he hadn’t changed much, had he?

      Unlike Emma.

      ‘And I would never have imagined you working as a locum. I would have imagined you to be completely settled in one place by now. With a husband and half a dozen kids.’

      He was genuinely curious about what had happened in her life but he knew he’d just stepped over a boundary of some kind. He saw the instant the shutters went up.

      ‘Nobody has half a dozen kids these days, Max. How irresponsible would that be, given global resources?’

      Max cleared his throat. ‘Precisely why I haven’t contributed to the population statistics myself.’ He shuffled some papers on his desk to cover the slightly awkward atmosphere. ‘Did Miriam give you enough of a tour? Are you happy to start your first shift at seven a.m. tomorrow?’

      ‘I’m happy.’ Emma’s nod was brisk. ‘I’ve had a lot of experience working in unfamiliar surroundings and I can quickly get a feel for how helpful the staff are going to be. You’ve obviously got a great crowd here and I don’t anticipate any problems at all in covering for you. I assume you have a trauma team on call as well? With specialists from other departments?’

      ‘Yes. I can’t guarantee there’ll be a consultant from every department available on the bank holidays but there should be someone from orthopaedics, general surgery and neurology who’ll get here as fast as possible if the alert is activated. We only do that if we know there’s major trauma coming in. Otherwise, we assess and call in consults as needed. Same goes for medical or obstetric emergencies.’ Max closed down his computer and got to his feet. ‘I’ll be available by phone at any time. Don’t hesitate to call. I can probably come in if there’s a real crisis. I’ll be just outside of a village that’s halfway between Cheltenham and Cirencester, which is only twenty minutes away—unless this forecast for snow is accurate.’

      ‘I’m rather hoping for a white Christmas,’ Emma said. ‘Especially seeing as I’ve got accommodation that’s within easy walking distance.’

      ‘Speaking of which...let’s go.’ Max headed towards Emma to reach for his coat that was hanging behind the door. He caught a faint scent of something clean and crisp as he got closer. Lemons, maybe? Or mandarins...?

      ‘Sorry?’ Emma was blinking at him. ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘To the apartment.’ Max held open the door of his office. ‘I thought I’d show you around, seeing as it’s mine.’