A Mommy for Christmas Read Free Page A

surgeon—fantastic. Neat, quick, decisive—he’ll be a real asset. I’m not surprised he was a consultant. God only knows what he’s doing as a locum registrar.’
    â€˜Holding his family together, perhaps?’ her mother suggested softly, and Kate felt a stab of guilt.
    Was that what James was doing? Holding his family together?
    â€˜Then why not say so?’
    â€˜Maybe he’s a very private man. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe it’s messy and embarrassing or just too hurtful to talk about.’
    Like her own divorce.
    â€˜Maybe,’ she conceded, wondering.
    â€˜Cut him a little slack, Kate,’ her mother advised. ‘Give him time—for the children.’
    â€˜We don’t even know if there are any children,’ she pointed out, but she had to bear it in mind, just in case. She couldn’t do anything else, because without her parents, who weren’t her parents at all, her life would have been very, very different.
    â€˜OK, enough about work. How are you guys? Good day?’ she said, handing over the conversation to them. Piling the hot, steaming sprouts onto her plate, she poured over the gravy, picked up her knife and fork and started eating as she listened.
    Â 
    He couldn’t sleep.
    Apart from the fact that he was kicking himself about the bloody form he’d failed to send in, and the heart-rending interview he’d had with Amanda Symes at her sleeping husband’s bedside in the high-dependency unit, there was an image of Kate Burgess in her underwear burned onto his retinas, and every time he closed his eyes he could see it, the smooth skin, the sleek curves—and the ugly, wicked scar that snaked over her ribs.
    Surgery. Emergency surgery. A thoracotomy?
    Looked like it. He’d dragged his eyes away and finished dressing, and then for the rest of the day he’d felt as if his eyes were burning through her clothes. It was a wonder they hadn’t caught fire, and he was stunned at himself.
    He hadn’t looked at another woman since he’d met Beth eight years ago, and he sure as hell didn’t need to be fantasising about a woman who wouldn’t be out of place in The Taming of the Shrew !
    No. That was unfair. She’d been right, he should have been there on time with all his boxes ticked. It had been unprofessional, and all the excuses in the world wouldn’t make it right.
    He swallowed the disappointment that he’d let himself down at the first hurdle. Stupid, stupid oversight. And now, of course, she’d be worried that his paperwork wouldn’t be up to scratch.
    Well, he’d just have to prove her wrong.
    He rolled to his side, punched his pillow and rammed it into the side of his neck, then closed his eyes and saw her again. Naked, except for a few scraps of outrageous underwear and a scar that raised more questions than he wanted answers for.
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    He was on time the next day, but he looked exhausted.
    â€˜How’s Stephen Symes?’ he asked without preamble, and Kate gave him a searching look and smiled pointedly. ‘Good morning.’
    â€˜Morning. Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘So—Mr Symes?’
    â€˜He’s back on the ward. He spent the night in HDU but he’s OK. The histology’s back.’
    â€˜Bad?’ he asked, and she nodded.
    â€˜As it can be,’ she told him, and the muscle in his jaw tensed. ‘It’s a grade three, dirty margins—but we knew that at the time, knew we hadn’t got all of it. And the histology indicates that it’s aggressive, which is borne out by the liver involvement. So it’s Stage IV, as we suspected, and we’re talking palliative care. Oncology is onto it.’
    â€˜Have you spoken to him, or have they? Told him the news?’
    â€˜I thought I might let you do that, as you were the one who operated, and as you spoke to his wife yesterday afternoon. I gather from what