LITMIR.BIZ

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pub taking part in several Christmas parties—and handed her the bottle of wine. ‘I didn’t know if you preferred red or white, so I played it safe.’

      ‘Thank you. It’s very nice of you, but you didn’t need to.’

      ‘You cooked dinner, so this is my contribution,’ he pointed out. ‘Something smells nice.’

      ‘It’s not very exciting, I’m afraid. Just a casserole and jacket potatoes, and all the veg are mixed in with the casserole.’

      But it meant that he hadn’t had to cook. ‘It sounds lovely.’

      ‘It was the lowest-maintenance thing I could think of,’ she admitted wryly. ‘Looking after Hope took an awful lot more time and energy than I expected.’

      Yes, and if things had been different he would’ve been celebrating his first Christmas with his daughter—except his ex-wife’s baby wasn’t actually his daughter. He pushed the thought away. ‘So I hear from my colleagues.’ And this was his cue to play nice. Amy’s brown eyes were so anxious, despite the calm she appeared to radiate. ‘Here. My turn to cuddle Hope and keep her happy for a bit.’

      And that was definitely gratitude in her eyes as she handed the baby over.

      Though her hands brushed against his as they transferred the baby between them, and a frisson of desire flickered down his spine.

      Inappropriate. Amy was his neighbour, and he was helping out with a tricky situation. That was it, he reminded himself. He wasn’t going to hit on her and he wasn’t going to let himself wonder how soft her hair was, or how her skin would feel against his.

      ‘Can I get you a drink?’ she asked.

      ‘A glass of wine would be lovely right now,’ he admitted. And it might distract him from all the ridiculous thoughts flickering through his head. Thoughts about how Amy’s mouth was a perfect Cupid’s bow, and wondering what it would feel like if he kissed her.

      ‘Hard shift?’

      He shrugged. ‘It’s always busy this time of year. Ignoring all the viruses and the elderly coming in with breathing problems, there are the falls—especially when it’s icy like it has been tonight. And tonight the department will be full of people who drank too much at Christmas Eve parties and either ended up in a fight or fell and hurt themselves.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Tomorrow will be the people who had an accident carving the turkey, and a few more punch-ups because people who really shouldn’t be in the same room together for more than ten minutes are forced to play nice for the whole day and it’s too much for them, and the day after that will be the people who didn’t store the leftover turkey properly and gave themselves food poisoning.’

      ‘That,’ she said, ‘sounds a tiny bit cynical.’

      ‘Experience,’ he said, and grimaced. ‘Sorry. I guess I’m a bit tired and not the best company.’

      ‘It’s fine.’ She handed him a glass of wine. ‘Come and sit down. Dinner will be five minutes.’

      He went into the living room and blinked in surprise. ‘You have a tree.’

      She smiled. ‘Yes—and you wouldn’t believe how long it took me to put it up.’

      ‘But you didn’t have a tree this morning.’

      ‘That’s because I wasn’t intending to be here for Christmas,’ she said. ‘I was meant to be spending this week in Edinburgh with some of my oldest friends, but they rang yesterday to call it off because they’ve gone down with the flu.’ Amy shrugged. ‘There didn’t seem much point in putting up a tree when I wasn’t going to be here. But now I am, and it’s Hope’s first Christmas.’ Her fair skin flushed. ‘It might sound a bit daft, but I wanted to put up a tree for her.’

      ‘No, it’s not daft. I get what you mean.’ Josh paused. ‘So the lack of a tree earlier wasn’t because you don’t like Christmas?’

      ‘No.’ She frowned. ‘I take it you don’t like Christmas, then?’

      ‘It’s not my favourite time of the year,’ he admitted, and was relieved when she didn’t push it and ask why. Though his mouth didn’t seem to want to pay her the same courtesy, because he found himself asking questions. ‘So you’re not spending Christmas with your family?’

      Amy shook her head. ‘My brother lives in Canada, so my parents spend alternate Christmases here and over in Canada.’

      ‘And this year is Canada’s turn, right?’

      ‘Right,’ she agreed.

      ‘So luckily for Hope that means you’re here.’

      ‘Yes.’ Her expression was sombre when she looked at him. ‘Things could have been very different.’

      ‘But you found her in time.’ He paused. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

      ‘I’m about to serve dinner, so if you want to settle Hope in her Moses basket, that’d be good.’

      While Amy went to the kitchen, Josh put the baby in the Moses basket. Hope grizzled for a moment and then yawned and fell asleep.

      Having dinner with Amy felt weirdly intimate. Like a date—though Josh couldn’t even remember the last time he’d dated. He’d had a couple of offers that he’d turned down, and some well-meaning friends had tried to match-make, but he’d taken them to one side and explained that he appreciated their effort but he wasn’t ready to date again.

      Was he ready now?

      And why on earth was he thinking about that?

      ‘The food’s very nice,’ he said, to cover his awkwardness.

      ‘Thank you.’

      He didn’t have a clue what to talk about, and it made him feel slightly flustered. He was used to making polite conversation to distract his patients or get more information out of them, or being out with colleagues that he’d known for so long that he didn’t have to make small talk. This was definitely outside his comfort zone. Especially as he was becoming more and more aware of how attractive Amy was: not just those huge brown eyes, but the curve of her mouth, her pretty heart-shaped face and the slight curl to her bobbed hair. It made him itch to draw her, and he hadn’t felt that urge for a long time either.

      ‘So how long have you lived here?’ he asked, trying to get his thoughts back to something much more anodyne and much, much safer.

      ‘Eighteen months. You moved here last summer, didn’t you?’ she replied.

      ‘Yes. It’s convenient for the hospital, just a fifteen-minute walk.’

      ‘It’s about that to school, too,’ she said. ‘Just in the other direction.’

      He remembered that she taught maths. ‘Did you always want to teach?’

      ‘I didn’t want to be an accountant, an engineer or an actuary, so teaching was my best bet for working with maths—and actually it’s really rewarding when the kids have been struggling with something and it suddenly clicks for them.’ She smiled. ‘Did you always want to be a doctor?’

      ‘It was pretty much expected of me—Dad’s a surgeon, Mum’s a lawyer, my brother Stuart’s an astrophysicist and my sisters are both lecturers.’ He shrugged. ‘One teaches history at Oxford and the other’s in London at the LSE.’

      ‘A family of high achievers, then.’

      Yes. And he hadn’t quite lived up to their expectations. He’d suggested becoming a graphic designer and going to art college instead of studying for his A levels, and the resulting row had left him very aware that he’d been expected to follow in his parents’ and siblings’ footsteps. In the end he’d settled on medicine; at least there’d been a little bit of drawing involved. And he liked his job. He liked being able to make a difference to people’s lives. And he could still

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