Читать книгу: «Their Newborn Baby Gift»

CHAPTER ONE

THERE WERE TIMES when Evie Cooper wished she could clone herself, and this was definitely one of them.

As if it wasn’t enough that she felt responsible for the success of this evening’s gala opening for the Hope Children’s Hospital, she was getting bombarded by seemingly urgent text messages from home.

Have you picked up the new test sticks for my blood sugar monitor?

She texted back to her father.

Yes. But I won’t be home till late tonight. Have you got any left?

Think I’ve got one.

Evie briefly considered sending a message that, next time, it might be a good idea to let her know sooner that he was running out but she was distracted by her colleague, Michelle, who was looking flustered.

‘The caterers have arrived. They’re asking for you.’

‘Tell them to get set up in the conference room. I’ll get there when I’ve got a minute.’

Her phone beeped again.

Where are my skinny jeans?

She texted back.

No idea.

I put them in the wash DAYS ago! I have to wear them tonight for the school disco!!

Evie didn’t respond. A couple of very anxious-looking people were approaching her reception desk.

‘Welcome to ICU.’ She smiled. ‘You must be Mr and Mrs Taylor? Baby Cameron’s grandparents?’ She’d been warned they might turn up.

The man nodded. ‘We’re so worried about the little chap. We’re hoping to get to see him.’

‘I understand.’ Evie nodded sympathetically. ‘Let me see what I can do. Your daughter’s in with him, of course, but it’ll depend on how well he is whether anyone else can go into the unit.’

‘But we’re his grandparents.’ The woman pressed a tissue to her nose. ‘We need to see him.’

‘I know.’ Evie kept her smile in place. ‘I understand completely. But we have a lot of very sick babies in our Neonatal intensive care unit and we have to make sure our staff aren’t distracted in any way from doing their job. Please, take a seat in the waiting area. I’ll talk to the doctor who’s looking after Cameron.’

She put her phone on silent as it beeped again in her pocket. Her sister was fourteen now, for heaven’s sake, not five years old—as she had been when their mother had died. Evie had too many other things to sort right now. Stella was old enough to sort her own laundry.

It took some diplomacy to appease the Taylors and it was Evie who came up with the idea of Cameron’s mother taking a photograph of her premature baby and then coming out to the waiting area to talk to her parents-in-law for a few minutes.

Surely things would settle down now, long enough for Evie to dash over to the other wing of the hospital? As the head of the committee organising the gala function tonight, she wanted to make sure that the decorations in the conference room had been completed and that there were not going to be any last-minute glitches. What if the time-lapse video that had captured every stage of building this amazing new hospital wasn’t already installed in the data projector, for example?

But Michelle was looking wide-eyed enough to suggest that something major had cropped up.

‘There’s people here from Chat Zone,’ she whispered.

Evie frowned. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘It’s the society magazine that’s giving all the others a run for their money. They’re covering the gala tonight. Someone at main Reception has pointed them in your direction.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’ Michelle grinned. ‘Maybe because you know so much about everything around here? Can you talk to them?’

‘I haven’t got time. We’re expecting that new neonatal cardiac surgeon to arrive any minute. The Australian guy?’

‘Ryan Walker.’ Michelle nodded. ‘I can look after him. And ICU Reception for you. Go on, it’ll only take a few minutes and...and the photographer is pretty cute. And we don’t want Hope Hospital to get a bad write-up, do we?’

Maybe Evie could kill two birds with one stone. Take the journalist and her photographer to the conference room and check out the decorations and everything else while they set themselves up to record one of the most glamorous evenings that would happen in Cambridge this year.

But that wasn’t what this pair were after.

‘We’ve got plenty of time to do the actual event,’ a pretty blonde, who introduced herself as Pippa, assured her. ‘What we want is more background. Especially for the high-profile parts of the hospital like the neonatal intensive care unit.’

They both looked no older than her brother, Peter, who was in his last year of school. Evie suddenly felt a lot older than her twenty-eight years. She wanted to suggest that they could have done their homework in a more timely fashion. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and smiled.

‘I haven’t got long,’ she warned. ‘But I’ll do what I can to help.’

Because that’s what everybody expected of her, wasn’t it? And because that’s what she did. Always had and probably always would.

‘Can I get a shot inside the unit?’ the photographer, Jason, asked. ‘I’ve heard that it’s a world-class facility.’

‘ ICU is actually two units,’ Evie told him. ‘It’s a pod system, with PICU—that’s paediatric intensive care—on one side and NICU—neonatal intensive care—on the other. They share a central staff station and service areas. There’s room for growth with additional pods in the future if necessary.’

She took them as far as the entry-controlled glass doors so that Jason could get some pictures of the banks of monitoring equipment, the transparent, oval cribs and the incubators. The doctors here were wearing pale blue scrubs. The scrubs of the nurses and ancillary staff had a teddy bear print. Everybody was clearly focused on their tiny patients. Even at the central staff station, every patient was under direct observation or being carefully monitored via video cameras and data recordings from the wealth of the best equipment available.

‘Every detail was chosen by our CEO, Theo Hawkwood.’ Evie was so proud of these units. ‘Even tiny things have had to meet the highest standards. Like all those windows to provide natural light and ceiling soffits and baffles to reduce echoed sounds. That paint colour on the walls? You wouldn’t believe the amount of research that went into finding one that doesn’t interfere with an observer’s perception of skin colour.’

‘I love the floor,’ Pippa said. ‘Those inserts in the wood look like rays of sunshine coming from the central station.’

‘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 the building, past the ambulance bay and the bank of huge wheelie bins for rubbish and into the car park where her practical little hatchback was close to the hospital end of the first row.

The pools of lighting here were designed for the safety of both vehicles and people so it was easy to spot the couple getting out of a car near to where she was heading. They were clearly going to the gala because the man was dressed in a tuxedo and the woman hanging off his arm was shimmering in a silver sheath dress, so low cut that Evie knew she had to be freezing. She was wearing silver stiletto heels as well and Evie had a moment of envy for anyone who could walk in heels like that. She’d tried it as a teenager—who wouldn’t when you were only five feet two—but it had felt as ridiculous as trying to walk on stilts.

She could hear the woman giggling as the distance between them closed and she seemed slightly unsteady on her feet. Was it the shoes, or had this couple been enjoying a pre-gala drink somewhere? Her gaze shifted to the man, wondering if he was someone she knew, and then it caught in a flash of complete astonishment.

She didn’t know him but he had to be the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in her life. Even with his partner’s choice of footwear, he was still a couple of inches taller than she was and the outer edge of the pool of light behind him seemed to have turned his hair into a tousled, golden halo.

He didn’t notice Evie. Why would he when he had someone who looked like a supermodel leaning against him? They were so close now that she could smell the woman’s perfume and hear her breathless request to be kissed.

‘We’re late enough already, Tiffany.’ The man’s voice had an edge of impatience and an accent that she couldn’t quite place.

‘No...’ The woman tried to step in front of him and wobbled on her heels. She flung an arm out to steady herself just as Evie stepped within range. As a solid object that could be pushed against, the woman saved herself from falling by shoving Evie. It was Evie who was sent flying and she landed hard on the cold asphalt.

‘Oops... My bad...’

Evie could hear the woman giggling again as she pushed herself up on her elbow. Yep, she’d definitely had a drink or two already.

‘I’m so sorry about that. Are you all right?’

It wasn’t a feminine scent she could smell now. It was something very, very masculine. Subtle but powerful at the same time, like the strength she could feel in the hand that was around her arm, helping her to her feet. This man was in control. He was also...annoyed? No surprises there. He was about to be even later arriving at the gala, wasn’t he?

‘Thanks,’ Evie muttered, pulling herself from his grasp. ‘I’m fine.’

But he didn’t release his hold on her arm immediately. His gaze was searching her face. ‘You sure about that? You had quite a bump.’

It was the fright of the fall that had to be responsible for the way her heart was thumping right now, not the fact that an incredibly good-looking man was holding onto her and looking as if...as if he could see past any attempt to brush off what was now an acute embarrassment. She must have looked like a complete idiot sprawled on the ground in front of this glittering power couple who were off to rub shoulders with the medical elite of the district.

And she wasn’t just dressed in her boring work clothes, she was now covered in grime, half her hair had escaped from the pins that held it in a tidy knot and she knew that she had a rip in her skirt because she’d felt it happening when she’d fallen. She felt like Cinderella and the wannabe princess was looking way more annoyed than her prince. She tugged at the man’s other hand.

‘We’re late, darling,’ she reminded him. ‘And I want some more champagne.’

The demand, even the tug, hadn’t broken the scrutiny the man was still giving Evie and this was suddenly more than embarrassing. She could feel colour rushing into her cheeks and she wrenched herself free of the touch that was now burning her arm.

‘I’m fine,’ she said again. ‘Enjoy your evening.’

It wasn’t far to her car. Evie opened the door, leaned in to pull out the bag that contained her dress and shoes but paused as she straightened, her attention caught by the car that was parked alongside.

Flashy. That was the only word for the low-slung bright red sports car, and she knew instantly who had arrived in this vehicle. Good grief...she could actually see the silver-sheathed woman in the passenger seat, probably with her hand on her chauffeur’s knee, doing her best to distract the man with that intense, discomforting stare who would no doubt continue to concentrate on the road ahead. Until he was ready to play, that was...

They would be amongst the gathering at the gala, along with all the other polished, successful people associated with Hope Hospital. Even if she got changed and tidied up her hair, Evie was still going to feel out of place there. A Cinderella who had a slightly incompetent fairy godmother?

With a sigh, she dropped the bag back into the car.

Her job there was done. She really didn’t want to go the gala now.

But she wasn’t expected home until late, either, and that provided an unusual window of freedom.

Evie turned back towards the hospital buildings. She knew exactly where she wanted to be right now.

And who she wanted to be with.