LITMIR.BIZ

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it. Hadn’t he gone back into his shell since Mario’s? On the other hand, it was the Christmas party—and Christmas was a season of magic, when everything could change.

      When Sam had finished his ward round, she caught his attention. ‘Mr Taylor—could I have a word, please?’

      ‘Of course, Dr Price.’

      The formality made her nervous, but she pressed on. ‘Um…your office?’ she suggested.

      ‘My office,’ he agreed.

      Sam’s office was the same size as that of Lyn Trevor, the other paediatric consultant, but whereas Lynn’s desk sported pictures of her husband and children and the walls were decorated with pictures drawn by patients and her own children, Sam’s office was completely devoid of personal touches. Not even so much as a pot-plant graced the window-sill and even the Christmas cards were stacked in a neat pile on his desk rather than being on display.

      Jodie felt even more daunted. Everything around her screamed, Keep off! Don’t touch!

      He sat down on the swivel chair behind his desk. ‘So, what can I do for you, Dr Price?’

      She took a deep breath, gathered up her courage and swallowed hard. ‘It’s about the departmental Christmas party, tomorrow night,’ she muttered.

      ‘Yes?’

      ‘I…er…I picked your name out of the hat. It means I’m supposed to go with you.’

      Not a flicker of emotion. He was completely unreadable—and unreachable. ‘And?’

      ‘I…’ she floundered. ‘Look, if you’d rather I made some excuse and didn’t go…’

      ‘Why would I do that?’

      ‘Honestly, men could be so dense sometimes!’

      To her shock, he laughed.

      ‘What?’

      ‘I take it you didn’t mean to say that out loud?’

      Jodie clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. ‘Oh, no. Please, tell me I didn’t…’ When he said nothing, she closed her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. What I meant was—’

      ‘Given that the first half of the party is a revue, and Mr Frosty’s bound to have a part in it, you think I’d find it too embarrassing to attend,’ he finished.

      Her eyes widened. He knew about his nickname on the ward?

      He folded his arms. ‘Yes, Jodie, I know.’

      ‘I’d see a specialist but there isn’t a cure for foot-in-mouth disease,’ she said wryly.

      ‘You didn’t say a thing this time. You have one of those faces that shows every single thought.’ Still, his own expression was unreadable. ‘Do I take it you’d rather not go to the party with me, then?’

      ‘I…’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know.’

      ‘Explain.’

      ‘Do you always have to be so, so…’ Unable to find the word she was searching for, she growled in frustration.

      That at least raised a smile. ‘Difficult?’

      ‘Something like that.’ Well, he’d asked. If he didn’t like the answer, that was his problem; she couldn’t keep quiet any more. ‘When you came to Mario’s with us, I thought you’d, well, thawed out a bit. And then…’

      ‘Back to Mr Frosty.’

      ‘Yes.’ This time, Jodie had the grace to blush. ‘I guess Fiona didn’t ask you before she put your name in the hat.’

      ‘No.’

      ‘If you’d rather not go, I won’t make a big deal out of it.’

      ‘And if I do go?’

      ‘Um, there’s the revue.’ Jodie winced. She didn’t know a huge amount of detail, but what she knew wasn’t good.

      ‘Consultants are fair game for sketches. And I suppose it’s time the boot was on the other foot.’

      Jodie digested his words and then blinked hard. ‘You mean—you’ve acted in a revue?’

      He shrugged. ‘I think all doctors get involved in some kind of revue at some point. When I was a house officer, I played our senior consultant as God.’

      ‘No.’ Without thinking, Jodie perched on the edge of his desk and crossed one long leg over the other. ‘Show me.’

      ‘Show you?’

      ‘Oh, come on. You can’t feed me a line like that and back off again.’

      He shook his head. ‘I can’t really remember the lines now. It was something about the ten commandments of working on his ward. Thou shalt not drink coffee until thou hast knelt at my feet and worshipped me for five minutes—that sort of thing.’

      ‘Hmm.’ Jodie’s smile was pure mischief.

      ‘Don’t even think about it,’ Sam warned, guessing at what was going through her mind. ‘Are you in this revue?’

      She shook her head. ‘I’m a hopeless actor. I just made some of the props—with a bit of help from some of the older children on the ward.’

      ‘Such as Mr Frosty’s costume?’ he asked.

      ‘I think it’s time I left.’ She gave him a nervous smile, slid down from his desk and headed for the door.

      ‘Not so fast.’

      She stopped with her fingers on the doorhandle.

      ‘Am I picking you up or meeting you here? And what time?’

      ‘I’ll make my own way there,’ Jodie said. ‘It starts at seven in the canteen.’

      ‘I’ll see you there, then. At ten to seven.’

      ‘OK.’ Jodie left his office, closing the door behind her, and heaved a sigh of relief. It hadn’t been as bad as she’d expected…or, now she thought about it, had it? She had her date for the party, but she still had no idea whether he really wanted to be there or not.

      ‘Well, Mr Frosty, if the revue doesn’t thaw you out, nothing will,’ she said softly to herself.

      Sam leaned back in his chair. He was walking on very thin ice indeed. Jodie had even given him the perfect get-out for not going to the party—so why hadn’t he jumped at it?

      Because you want to see her all dressed up, the little voice in his head informed him. And then you want to take every scrap of material off her again…

      Do not.

      You’re in denial—Mr Frosty, the voice taunted him.

      Sam groaned aloud. He was going to have an awful lot to live up to—but he was aware that distance wasn’t a style the ward was comfortable with. Maybe the party was his chance to show the rest of the team that he had a sense of humour, that he could laugh with them.

      How long had it been since he’d laughed? Really laughed? Before Jodie had burst into his life and insisted on him going to Mario’s with the rest of the team?

      He closed his eyes. Jodie again. Maybe he should have accepted her get-out. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope, dancing with her. Holding her so close and knowing he couldn’t have her—ever. It wouldn’t be fair on either of them.

      He smiled wryly. Who said life had to be fair? Besides, he knew there were people out there far worse off than he was—it was just that, right now, it didn’t feel like it.

      Tomorrow morning, he decided, he’d have a convenient sore throat. One that got worse during the day so he wouldn’t feel up to going to the Christmas party. That way, Jodie wouldn’t think he was avoiding the party because of her. She’d still be

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