Kitabı oku: «Falling For Mr. December»
Nick Kennedy was spectacular, Sammy thought.
Broad shoulders, beautiful biceps, enough hair on his chest to be sexy without him looking like a total gorilla and a definite six-pack.
Mr December was going to be the best page on the calendar. He could probably sell the calendar all by himself.
But now he’d said there was no wife or girlfriend, she couldn’t help wondering: How come a gorgeous man with a good brain and kind eyes was single? Was it because he was a workaholic and his girlfriends tended to get fed up waiting for him to notice them? Or had she missed some major personality flaw?
“What?” he asked, clearly noting that she was staring at him.
“Nothing,” she said, embarrassed to discover that her voice was slightly croaky. She really had to get a grip.
The last thing she needed was for her skittish model to work out that she was attracted to him.
But a girl could dream …
Award-winning author KATE HARDY lives in Norwich with her husband, two children, one spaniel and too many books to count! She’s a fan of the theater, ballroom dancing, posh chocolate and anything Italian. She’s a history and science geek, plays the guitar and piano and makes great cookies (which is why she also has to go to the gym five days a week …).
Falling for Mr. December
Kate Hardy
To Fi, my best friend, with much love.
Contents
Cover
Introduction
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Extract
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
SAMMY LAUGHED AS the penny finally dropped. ‘So you want me to photograph naked men for you?’
Ayesha, who chaired the Friends of the London Victoria Hospital, squirmed and stared into her latte. ‘Put like that, it sounds terrible!’
‘I know what you meant. Do it artistically,’ Sammy said, still smiling. ‘A calendar of hot men to raise funds for the cancer ward. It’s a great idea. So do you have a bunch of sexy doctors lined up to pose for me?’
‘A couple,’ Mari, the vice-chair, said. ‘But we were thinking maybe we can include other people who’ve been involved with the ward.’
‘Cured patients, so you can say that this is what a cancer survivor looks like? That could work well.’ And, for a cause like that, Sammy would seriously think about going public and baring her own leg, if they couldn’t get enough models.
‘We were thinking relatives of patients,’ Ayesha said. ‘Ones with high profiles locally. We’ve got an actor, a musician, a chef, a gardener...’
‘So I could maybe shoot them in their own locations, doing their job. That’d work really well,’ Sammy said. ‘And they’re all happy about posing naked—provided I preserve their modesty?’
‘Ye—es,’ Ayesha said.
The hesitation told her everything. ‘You didn’t actually tell them it meant posing naked, did you?’ Sammy asked.
‘We’re going to,’ Mari said. ‘We can talk them into it.’
‘As I’ll need signed model release forms before I can let you use the photographs, I’m afraid you’ll have to do that.’ Sammy looked at her diary. ‘If you’re using the hospital as a location, I could shoot the whole lot in a day, but if I need to go to different places then I’ll have to work out a schedule based on the locations and the availability of the models.’ She scribbled some notes down on a pad. ‘These are the best times for me to do it, but I can also work round a couple of other things if you need me to. Talk to your models and let me know where and when you want me to do the shoots.’
‘Sammy, you’re a star. Thank you so much,’ Ayesha said.
Sammy shrugged off the praise. ‘It’s the least I can do. If it wasn’t for the treatment I had here when I was a teen—’ and again two years ago ‘—then I wouldn’t be here. And this means I can give something back.’ She smiled. ‘This is going to be fun. And we’re going to raise a ton of money for the ward.’
* * *
Nick folded his arms and looked at his sister. ‘All right, Mandy. Out with it.’
‘Out with what?’ she deadpanned.
‘Amanda Kennedy, I’ve known you for thirty-five years.’
‘At least one year of which you wouldn’t remember, because you were a baby at the time,’ she retorted.
‘Agreed,’ he said, ‘but I can always read your expression. So don’t ever take up playing poker, will you?’
She sighed. ‘I guess.’
Nick had known that tonight wasn’t just about his sister giving him an update on his nephew’s cancer treatment. Despite going through a messy divorce, Mandy still believed in love and happy endings. And all too often she tried to fix him up with someone she thought would be his perfect date. Nick had stopped believing in love years ago, and he’d learned the hard way that you couldn’t be successful both in love and in your career. So after the break-up of his marriage he’d gone for the safe option and concentrated on his career.
No doubt this was another of Mandy’s friends who really needed a plus-one for a dinner party and he’d fit the bill perfectly. OK. He’d help out, but he’d make it clear that he wasn’t looking for a relationship. Nowadays he didn’t do anything deeper than casual dating.
Then his sister said something he really hadn’t expected. ‘The Friends of the Hospital are doing a calendar to raise funds for the ward.’
He didn’t need to ask which ward. The cancer ward. The one that had treated his nephew Xander for osteosarcoma. Well, he could do something to help there, too. ‘If they’re looking for a sponsor to cover production costs, count me in.’
Mandy reached across the table and squeezed his hand. ‘Aww, Nick. I knew you’d offer to help before I could ask you. But they already have a sponsor for printing costs.’
‘OK. What else do they need to cover? Distribution? Warehouse? Paying the photographer?’
‘Um—not that, either. The photographer’s doing it for nothing.’
‘Then what?’
She took a deep breath. ‘They want you to be one of the models.’
‘Me?’ He looked at her, totally shocked. He knew his sister had been under a lot of stress recently, but had she gone temporarily insane? ‘Why?’
Mandy raised her eyebrows. ‘Need I remind you that you actually got approached by a model agency when you were seventeen?’
‘And I didn’t take up their offer.’ He might have considered it, to fund his way through university; but a couple of weeks later their parents had split up and life had disintegrated into chaos. Nick had forgotten all about the modelling offer and retreated into his studies. Concentrating on his books was what had got him through all the upheaval of his parents’ divorce. Just as concentrating on his job had got him through the misery of his own divorce.
‘Seriously, Nick—will you do it? They’re looking for people who are connected with the ward.’
As Xander’s uncle, he definitely had that connection.
‘And they want people with interesting jobs.’
‘A barrister isn’t that exciting,’ he said.
‘Yes, it is. You look like a film star in your wig and gown.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Mandy, I’m just an ordinary guy.’
‘Like hell you are. Apart from the fact that you’re my little brother, which would make you special in any case, can I remind you that you’re one of the youngest ever barristers appointed to being a QC?’
He grimaced. ‘Why would anyone be interested in that?’ About the only people who would even know what a QC was were people who had needed to brief one. Or maybe fans of certain types of TV crime drama.
‘And you’d be helping raise money for the ward. Money they really need for new equipment.’
That was an unbeatable argument, and they both knew it. How could he possibly say no? This was to help other kids who were in Xander’s position. And a little voice in his head added selfishly that maybe if he did it, then that would persuade Fate to give Xander a break and keep him in remission. And for that Nick would do almost anything.
‘Will you do it?’ she asked.
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘All right.’
She smiled. ‘Good. Thank you. I’ll give your phone number and email to them, then—I’ll do that now, if you don’t mind, because they’re waiting on my answer.’
‘OK.’ But Mandy was still hiding something, he was sure. ‘And the rest of it?’ he asked.
She blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re holding something back.’
She shrugged and tapped a message into her phone.
‘Just save us both the time and tell me the rest of it, Mandy,’ he said, leaning back and eyeing her over his glass of water.
‘OK.’ She sat back in her own chair and looked at him straight. ‘Since you ask, you’re going to be naked.’
‘What?’ He’d just taken a sip of water and he nearly choked on it. Naked? He must’ve misheard. No way would his sister have done this to him.
‘You won’t be showing anything,’ she said.
‘Define naked,’ he said grimly.
‘In court. Wearing your wig and robe.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mandy. The Head of Chambers would never agree to it.’
‘Um, he already has.’
He blinked hard. Was he hearing things? Leo had already said yes? But—how? ‘You what?’
‘I talked to your clerk this morning,’ she said. ‘And he thinks it’s a great idea.’
Now Nick was beginning to understand all the knowing smiles that had greeted him all afternoon. The news must’ve gone round chambers in ten seconds flat—gossip that juicy would never be ignored. And they’d all known that he didn’t have a clue what was going on, making it even more fun for them.
‘So what exactly did Gary say?’ he asked, keeping his voice low and even and meanwhile planning how he was going to make his clerk grovel hugely in the morning.
‘He put me through to your Head of Chambers. Then I told Leo all about it and he said he thought it was really a good idea, too. And he’s getting clearance for us so you can do the shoot in the local court. He says he’ll cover any photographic permission costs at the court himself.’
‘Oh, good God.’ With his boss on side, there was no way Nick could get out of it. He covered his face with his hands. ‘Please tell me this is some weird, surreal dream. Please tell me it’s a nightmare and I’m going to wake up. Preferably right now.’
‘Nick, I’ve already told them you said yes,’ Mandy said plaintively.
‘That was before I knew I was going to be naked. This is a seriously bad idea, Mandy,’ he said softly. ‘I’m a senior barrister. I have to respect the dignity of the court. Which doesn’t mean posing naked—or near-naked—for a calendar shoot, no matter how noble the cause is.’
‘But Leo said it would be OK. And... Nick, we need you,’ Mandy pleaded. ‘And it’s not as if you’re the only one with a responsible job. One of the surgeons at the hospital is doing it.’
‘Which is publicity for his own place of work.’
‘And I think there’s an actor and a musician on their list. And a chef.’
‘All of whom would get a career boost from the publicity,’ he pointed out.
‘Please, Nick. For me. And for Xander.’
‘It doesn’t look as if I’ve got much choice,’ he said grimly. ‘But promise me you’ll never, ever pitch a stunt like this again.’
‘I promise. I’m sorry, Nick.’ She bit her lip. ‘But the ward needs the money.’
Lack of money meant lack of equipment. Which in turn meant that some kids wouldn’t get the treatment they so badly needed. And that meant that those kids might even die.
Which was Nick’s worst nightmare regarding his nephew.
And he was in a position to change that. To give more kids a chance of life—the same amazing chance that Xander had been given. All he had to do was pose for one little picture that would help to publicise the cause and encourage people to donate.
One little naked picture.
It really went against the grain. But far worse was the thought of his nephew dying and the way it would shatter all their lives and devastate his elder sister.
‘All right,’ he said, blowing out a breath. ‘But I need to double-check this with Leo myself, first, and make sure that he’s absolutely clear on all the details. And if he changes his mind and says that I can’t do it, then I’ll sell calendars by hand for you—and I’m very persuasive, so I’ll sell tons of them to everyone in the whole of Inner Temple and Middle Temple. Plus I’ll also give a personal donation to match those sales. Double.’ Time and money. They’d be a good alternative to posing naked for a calendar, wouldn’t they?
And hopefully he’d be able to persuade his Head of Chambers that having one of his barristers naked and in the focus of the press might not be such a good idea...
CHAPTER TWO
AND OF COURSE Leo still said yes. Even when Nick pointed out exactly what was involved.
So, two weeks later, Nick found himself heading to the local Crown court. Leo had arranged for Court Number Two to be used outside the normal court working hours, though there was still a chance that Nick might bump into someone he knew who’d want to know what he was doing hanging round the court building when he wasn’t in a trial—especially when he looked as scruffy as he did right now.
S. J. Thompson, the photographer, had sent him a couple of very business-like texts to arrange the photo shoot and explain that Nick needed to dress casually and remove anything that might cause a mark on his skin—socks, collars, waistbands and the like—at least two hours before the shoot.
For putting him through something as embarrassing as this—not to mention the teasing he knew he’d get from his colleagues when the calendar actually came out—Fate had better keep Xander safe, Nick thought grimly.
When he got to the court, carrying his court attire in its usual boxes, there was nobody waiting outside. The only person he could see in the lobby was a woman who looked to be in her late twenties or so, wearing black trousers, a black silky short-sleeved top and black shoes. Her blonde hair was cropped so short as to be almost a military cut. She didn’t look remotely like the man Nick was here to meet.
She looked up from her book, then closed it, stood up and walked towards him. ‘Nick Kennedy, I presume?’
He blinked. Was she the photographer’s assistant or something? ‘Yes.’
‘Thank you for being on time. I’m S. J. Thompson—though you can call me Sammy, if you like.’ She held out her hand for him to shake.
‘You’re S. J. Thompson?’ Even as the words came out, he realised how dim they sounded. And how stupid of him to assume that the use of initials meant that the photographer was male.
She gave him a slight smile. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Clearly he wasn’t the first to have made that mistake. ‘I—er—nice to meet you,’ he said, feeling totally wrong-footed.
And, when he shook her hand, awareness zinged through every pore. Sammy Thompson was the most striking woman he’d met in a long time. And that severe haircut only served to highlight how pretty and feminine her face was. There was nothing masculine at all about her. Her mouth was a perfect rosebud, and he found himself wanting to trace her lower lip with his fingertip. Worse still, he could picture himself doing that before leaning in and kissing her. Lightly at first, a touch as light as a butterfly’s wing, and then deepening the kiss as she responded...
He shook himself mentally. Oh, for pity’s sake. This was business. OK, maybe not the normal kind of business he’d conduct here in the court, but it was still business. And he wasn’t exactly known for having ridiculous flights of fancy.
But he did feel uncomfortable right now.
It was nothing to do with sexism—as far as he was concerned, it was how you did your job that mattered, not what your gender or your sexual orientation or your religion was—but Sammy’s gender made this situation a little more difficult. Because it meant that now he was going to be stripping off in front of a woman he’d never met before.
Either his doubts showed on his face or she was used to this reaction from the people she photographed, because she said softly, ‘It’s not going to be as bad as you think. And, if it helps, remember that I’ll be seeing you simply as a life model rather than as an actual person. I don’t tend to hit on my models.’
‘I—yes. Of course. Sorry.’ How long had it been since he’d felt in a whirl, like this? He was never this pathetic and woolly. And he really hoped he didn’t look as if he was staring at her. He forced himself to look away. ‘I believe we have Court Number Two booked.’
‘My equipment’s already in there, though I haven’t set it up fully yet,’ she said. ‘Once we’ve decided precisely where you’re going to stand, it won’t take me long. Oh, and we really ought to cover the legal details now.’
Legal details? That got his attention.
‘Firstly, I have public liability insurance, which covers any damage to person or property while we’re in the location—not that there will be any—and secondly I’ll need you to sign a model release form,’ she said. ‘It’s pretty standard wording, but I’d still prefer you to read it thoroughly before you sign it.’ There was just the slightest twinkle in her sea-green eyes as she added, ‘Though I guess in your case I don’t really need to tell you to ask me to explain any legal wording you don’t understand.’
‘Quite,’ he agreed, trying to sound cool and professional. Even though Sammy Thompson was making him feel decidedly hot under the collar. What was it about her that made him feel like this?
‘Shall we?’ She gestured for them both to go in to the court room, and put a note on the door saying Filming in progress: do not enter.
‘I take it you’ve worked in here before, or at least somewhere like this?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Good. Then you’ll be comfortable with the setting,’ she said approvingly.
True, but he really wasn’t comfortable with what he was about to do. ‘Usually I’m fully dressed when I’m in this room,’ he said.
She indicated his cases and suit carrier. ‘This lot contains what you wear in court, I assume?’
He nodded. ‘I brought all of it because I wasn’t sure what you’d need.’ Though he knew it would be a lot less than he would prefer.
‘OK. Talk me through it,’ she invited.
He took his work clothing out of the cases he’d brought with him, piece by piece, and laid each one in turn on the judge’s bench. ‘Tunic shirt, waistcoat, pinstripe trousers and frock coat.’
‘You don’t wear a normal business suit under your lawyer’s gown?’ she asked, sounding surprised.
‘I did before I took silk,’ he said. ‘That is, before I became a QC—a Queen’s Counsel.’
‘Which is a senior barrister, right?’
‘Yes. So that’s why I wear the frock coat.’ He took out the gown. ‘And this.’
‘And that gown’s silk, I assume?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘May I touch it?’
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘So I can move it about and see how the light affects it,’ she said. ‘Obviously I’ll be careful with it. One of my best friends is a wedding dress designer, and I’ve taken most of the shots for her portfolio and website, so I understand how to handle material without marking it.’
‘Ah. Of course.’
His fingers brushed against hers as she took the gown from him, and it felt as if pure electricity were running through his veins. What on earth was the matter with him? He never reacted like this. Especially to a complete stranger.
Maybe he was overreacting because he hadn’t dated in a while, and his body’s natural urges were making themselves felt because Sammy was really attractive. Well, tough. This was business and he really didn’t have time for this. Behave, he told his libido mentally. You know relationships are a disaster zone.
She peered at the material carefully from several angles, then nodded in seeming satisfaction. ‘OK. Do you wear lace at your collar, or am I thinking of something else?’
‘That’d be ceremonial legal dress,’ he said. ‘Normally in Crown court a male barrister wears a wing collar that attaches to the shirt, and court bands.’ He took them out of their cases for her.
‘So the bands are the things that hang down like a two-pronged white tie?’
Despite himself, he smiled. ‘Yes. Actually, they’re symbolic. The Lord Chief Justice said back in the sixteenth century that they were two tongues. One for the rich, for a fee, to reward our long studies; and one without reward to defend the poor and oppressed.’
‘I like that,’ she said. ‘So you defend the poor and oppressed?’
‘I’m usually a prosecutor,’ he said, ‘but English barristers can defend as well as prosecute. I guess in either case I’d be defending my client’s interests, and it’s not for me to call them poor or oppressed.’
* * *
Sammy liked that little bit of humility. Given that Nicholas Kennedy QC was a top barrister, she’d half expected him to be a bit on the arrogant side, but she instinctively liked the man she’d just met. He had kind eyes, a deep rich brown. And, even though he clearly wasn’t very comfortable with the idea of being part of a shoot for the charity calendar—especially now he knew the photographer was female—he’d obviously made a promise to someone and had the integrity to keep that promise.
She could see exactly why the committee had asked him to pose for their calendar. Talk about photogenic. His bone structure was gorgeous. He could’ve been a model for a top perfume house, advertising aftershave. It was rare to have that kind of beauty teamed with an equally spectacular intellect. And it made him almost totally irresistible.
But she was going to have to resist the pull of attraction. She was here to work, not to drool over the eye candy. Right now she was supposed to be putting the man at his ease. And hadn’t she just told him that she never hit on her models?
Well, this wasn’t going to be a first for her.
Be professional, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to let herself remember the little shiver of desire that had rippled down her spine when he’d shaken her hand. Or wonder how that beautiful mouth would feel against her skin. She was going to focus on her job.
Besides, he was probably committed elsewhere. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t prove anything. A man that beautiful would’ve been snapped up years ago.
‘Your hair’s very short,’ she commented. ‘Do you have a military background, or is the haircut necessary because you have to wear a wig in court?’
‘It makes the wig a little more comfortable, yes,’ he said. ‘Speaking of which...’ He took out the wig next.
There were short, neat rows of curls all the way round the pale grey wig, and two tiny tails hanging down at the back with neat curls at the ends.
‘The wig is what everyone associates with lawyers in court,’ she said. ‘You’ll definitely be wearing that, and probably the gown—though I might do some shots without the gown as well.’
‘What else do I get to wear?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Not the trousers, the coat or the shirt, I’m afraid. Even though they’re nicely cut and made from good material.’
He flinched.
‘You can wear the collar and tie thingies.’
She could see in his expression that he was dying to correct her terminology—but he didn’t. Clearly he was resisting the temptation to be nit-picky and was trying to be co-operative. Teasing probably wasn’t the kindest or most appropriate thing she could do right now.
‘Thank you. I think,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘As I said, to me you’ll be simply a life model.’
But she needed him to relax so the strain wouldn’t show on his face when she photographed him. Given what he did for a living—and that he’d agreed to wear some of his court dress for the shoot—she guessed he’d be more comfortable talking about his work. ‘Talk me through the court layout, so I can decide where to put you.’ Even though she knew perfectly well where she was going to ask him to stand. She’d done her research properly, the way she always did before she took a portrait.
‘Right in front of us is the judge’s bench.’
‘Where he bangs his gavel, right?’
He laughed. ‘I think you’ve been watching too many TV dramas. English judges don’t use gavels.’
She knew that, but he didn’t need to know that she knew. It looked as if her plan to make him more comfortable was working. Except, when he laughed like that, it made him look sexy as hell—and that made it much more difficult for her to keep her part of the bargain, to be detached and think of him as a life model.
Not that Sammy was looking for a relationship right now. She was too busy with her job, and she was fed up to the back teeth with dating Mr Wrong—men who ran for the hills in panic, the second they learned about her past, or who saw themselves as her knight in shining armour and wrapped her so tightly in cotton wool that she couldn’t breathe. None of them had seen her as a woman.
Then again, she wasn’t really a whole woman any more, was she? So she couldn’t put the blame completely on them.
And after Bryn had finally been the one to break her heart, Sammy had decided that it would be much easier to focus on her family, her friends and her job and forget completely about romance.
Though the wedding she’d photographed a couple of months ago had made her feel wistful; now both her best friends were loved-up and settled. And although she was really happy for both of them, it had left her feeling just the tiniest bit lonely. And the tiniest bit sorry for herself. Even if she ever did manage to meet her Mr Right, there was no guarantee of a happy ending. Not if he wanted children of his own, without any kind of complications. She couldn’t offer that.
She pushed the thought away. Enough of the pity party. She had a great life. A family who loved her—even if they were a tad on the overprotective side—friends who’d celebrate the good times with her and be there for her in the bad times, and a job that really fulfilled her. Asking for more was just greedy.
‘No gavel, then. So what else am I looking at?’
‘OK. In front of the judge you have the clerk of the court, the usher, and the person who makes the sound recording of the trial or a stenographer who types it up as the trial goes along. They face the same way as the judge.’ He walked over to the benches facing the judge’s bench. ‘This is where the barristers sit, though we stand when we’re addressing the court. The defence barrister is nearest to the jury—’ he indicated the seats at the side of the room ‘—and the prosecution barrister is nearest to the witness box. The solicitors sit behind the barristers, and at the back is the dock where the defendant sits. Over there behind the witness box you have the public gallery and the press bench.’
‘So it’d make the most sense to photograph you where you’d normally stand in court,’ she said. Exactly where she’d always planned for him to pose—and where her equipment just so happened to be waiting. ‘OK. Can you stand there for me?’
‘Dressed like this?’ he asked.
She smiled. ‘For the moment, yes—though if you wouldn’t mind putting on your gown, that’d help with the light meter readings.’
He shrugged on his gown and went to stand at the barristers’ bench. She noticed that he was looking nervous again.
‘You’re really not going to end up on the front page of the newspapers with headlines screaming about “top barrister flashes his bits”,’ she reassured him. ‘The point of the calendar is to sell gorgeous men posed artistically.’ And Nick definitely fitted the bill on both counts. ‘If the bench doesn’t cover your modesty, so to speak, then you can hold a bunch of papers in a strategic place. Don’t you normally have a bunch of papers with you in court, tied with a pink ribbon?’
‘A brief,’ he said. ‘It’s the instructions from my client. The defence has a pink silk ribbon and the prosecution uses white.’
Though he still didn’t look convinced about the shoot.
She sighed. ‘Look, just stand there for a second.’
As he did so, she took her camera body out of its carrying case, fitted a lens so she could take a quick photograph, then came over to show him the digital picture on the screen. ‘This obviously isn’t a proper composition—for the real one I’ll be quite a bit more nit-picky about the lighting and the lens—but it should be enough to prove to you that your dignity will remain intact. OK now?’
‘Sorry.’ He blew out a breath. ‘I know I’m being ridiculous about this. I guess this just isn’t the normal sort of thing I’d do in a day’s work.’
‘That’s pretty much what everyone’s said so far.’ She grinned. ‘Well, except for the actor. He didn’t mind stripping off, but I guess he’d done it a few times before. All in the name of art, of course.’
‘Of course,’ Nick echoed, still looking uncomfortable.
‘And what you do in court—you have a persona, and that’s a bit like acting, isn’t it?’
‘A bit, I suppose,’ Nick said. ‘But, as I said, at work I’m normally wearing quite formal dress—not standing in the middle of the room, almost naked.’
‘For what it’s worth,’ Sammy said, ‘I think what you’re doing is really special. It takes guts—everyone’s happy enough to put their hand in their pocket and donate money to a good cause, but you’re doing something out of the ordinary. Something that’s going to make a lot more of a difference. And I bet whoever you’re doing this for is hugely proud of you.’
‘My sister,’ he said, ‘and my nephew.’
‘The ward treated your nephew?’ she asked softly.
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