Эротические рассказы

Their Newborn Baby Gift. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.

Their Newborn Baby Gift - Alison Roberts


Скачать книгу

      ‘The flooring’s state-of-the-art, as well. It has to absorb sound but also be good for infection control, maintenance and moving equipment. The inserts are aesthetic, of course. It is like a big sun, isn’t it?’

      ‘Only a private hospital with some serious financial backing could achieve something like this.’ Pippa nodded. ‘Mr Hawkwood’s used his private fortune to build Hope Hospital, hasn’t he?’

      ‘It’s certainly the realisation of a dream he’s held for a long time,’ Evie said smoothly. Not that she was about to start discussing her boss’s personal business. ‘But we don’t simply take private patients. The mission of Hope Hospital includes pro bono cases and a focus on funding cutting-edge paediatric medical research that’s going to benefit everybody. We also have some outstanding conference facilities which are going to attract collaboration from the best brains in the medical world.’

      ‘His wife died, didn’t she?’ It was no surprise that someone from a society magazine would be more interested in a personal story than hospital architecture. ‘I read that she got killed by a drunk driver, when she was out walking with their daughter, about five years ago. That’s where the name Hope has come from, yes?’

      Evie smiled. ‘But it’s also a wonderful name for a children’s hospital, isn’t it? If you came here with a really sick child, hope is the best gift we could give you. Mr Hawkwood hasn’t just been involved with every detail of building this amazing hospital—he handpicks the staff that get employed here, as well. People are coming from all over the world to join our team. We’ve got a new neonatal cardiac surgeon arriving today, in fact, from Australia. Which reminds me...’ Evie glanced at her watch. ‘I really need to check to see if he’s here yet. And get over to the conference centre.’

      ‘We’ll come with you.’ Pippa smiled. ‘But let’s get a quick shot of you out by the reception desk.’

      ‘No...’ Evie shook her head sharply. ‘No photos of me, please...’

      Good grief. Imagine if a picture of her, in her plain working outfit of this old skirt and jacket, got published alongside everyone in their gorgeous cocktail dresses and tuxedos at the gala? And that was another reminder. At some point, she had to find time to get out to the car park, retrieve her dress and shoes and do something to smarten herself up so that she could attend the gala herself.

      Michelle seemed happy to have a photograph taken. She was still smiling as she handed Evie a handful of paper notes.

      ‘There’s been lots of calls,’ she told Evie. ‘Sounds like you’re needed in the conference room. Mr Hawkwood is there already, I think.’

      ‘I’m heading there right now. Has Mr Walker arrived?’

      ‘No. No sign of him. No messages, either.’ Michelle looked unimpressed as she looked up at the clock on the wall. ‘It’s getting late. Hey—don’t you need to get changed soon? You can’t miss the gala.’

      ‘Yeah... I’ll get there.’

      Hope Children’s Hospital had been built with two wings on either side of a round, central building that had been publicly praised as an echo of Cambridge’s famous twelfth-century round church and it was positioned to be filled with natural light from walls of windows and for the upper floors to take advantage of the stunning views over the city of Cambridge. The intensive care units were on the top floor of the right wing, and the largest conference room was at the same level in the left wing.

      It was already dark as Evie took her visitors across the top floor of the hospital, giving a rapid rundown of where other areas were located, like the theatre suites and wards, laboratories and research suites, but they seemed distracted.

      ‘Look at that view,’ Pippa breathed. ‘You can see pretty much the whole of Cambridge.’

      ‘Wait till you see the gala venue.’

      Evie knew that the view from the glass wall of the huge conference venue would be breathtaking. The sparkle of the city’s lights laid out below was going to be the perfect backdrop to tonight’s event.

      But Pippa wasn’t thinking about the view when they arrived. ‘That’s Mr Hawkwood, isn’t it?’ She looked delighted. ‘Do you think he’d have time for a quick interview?’

      ‘I’ll check. Stay here for a moment.’ Evie eyed the long tables covered in crisp, white linen as she walked past. One was laden with champagne flutes that were gleaming under the lights and another was being set up with silver platters of delicious-looking finger food.

      ‘Evie...’ Theo Hawkwood was walking to meet her. Tall and charismatic, the former paediatric surgeon was so passionate about Hope Hospital, it was easy to forget how young he was to hold such a prestigious position. ‘I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you in person. I hear it’s largely down to you that all this has come together.’

      ‘It was a team effort, Theo.’ Being in the spotlight made Evie feel distinctly uncomfortable. ‘Everybody’s worked very hard.’

      ‘I don’t know how you do it.’ Theo smiled. ‘On top of your job and those extra duties...’

      Evie dismissed the question of how he knew about those ‘extra duties’. This was his hospital and Theo had kept his finger on its pulse from the moment its doors had opened several months ago.

      ‘I had a good training ground. My brothers and sisters were all very young when Mum died so I had to step up to control the chaos.’

      It was an automatic gesture to touch the necklace she always wore when she thought of her mum. A gift to celebrate a wedding anniversary, her father had said he’d chosen the topaz stone because it reminded him of the colour of her mother’s eyes. The hazel eyes that Evie had inherited. Heart-shaped and set in an antique-style gold filigree, Evie had worn the necklace every day since her mother had died. It had become her touchstone in those early years when she’d been trying to hold her family together.

      Not that she’d been able to control everything, of course. Maybe keeping so busy now, all these years later, was a way of burying regrets—like having to give up her dream of being a nurse. She still got to work in a hospital and that was enough. Working in this hospital was a dream come true and she had Theo to thank for this opportunity. The flash of sympathy in his gaze reminded her that they’d both dealt with tragedy in their lives but he was the one who might have to deal with more memories than she would tonight.

      ‘There’s someone here from Chat Zone,’ she warned him. ‘The magazine?’

      He nodded. ‘I’ve heard of it.’

      ‘They’d love to talk to you, but—just a heads-up—they might want to cover some personal ground.’

      ‘Everything about Hope Hospital is personal to me,’ Theo murmured. ‘I’ll talk to them. Briefly...our guests are starting to arrive.’ He turned away. ‘I’ll see you later, of course.’ A backward glance took in her outfit. ‘You are coming, aren’t you?’

      ‘Just a couple of little things to sort first,’ Evie assured him with a rueful smile. ‘Like finding my dress.’

      She avoided the group being offered a welcoming glass of champagne. She recognised Marco, one of their surgeons, and his department’s boss, Alice, who was looking stunning in a sparkly blue dress. Naomi, a physiotherapist, was just behind them and the pale silk of her gown against her dark skin was so eye catching, it was no wonder that Jason already had his camera pointing in her direction. Evie sped towards the exit that would take her through the kitchen area. Luckily, checking that the caterers were happy was on her list of things to sort because she really didn’t want anybody else to notice that she wasn’t dressed remotely well enough to belong here.

      Finally, thirty minutes later, she had the chance to do something about that. She hurried down the stairs, rather than wait for an elevator, out through the main reception area and into the chill of the autumn evening. Then she headed for the rear of


Скачать книгу
Яндекс.Метрика