Free The Millionaire's Redemption by Margaret Tanner Page B

number, Cheryl, in case you need to ring me.”
    “Good idea. I think she’ll be fine. Let me know what time you’ll be having lunch so we can make sure she’s awake when you come down.”
    “Thank you.” Holly hovered, loath to leave yet knowing she must.
    “Go now. Don’t prolong the agony. If there are any problems we’ll give you a ring.”
    “Thanks, I didn’t expect to meet someone so understanding,” Holly said sincerely. “I hope the rest of the Glen Fern staff is nice like you.”
    “Most of them are. It’s a good company to work for.”
    She left Lilly playing with Cheryl’s necklace and hurried next door to see the receptionist. “Good morning. I’m here to start work.”
    “Hi. Mr. Hamilton wants you to go up to his office. He’ll show you around.”
    “Thanks.” She didn’t want him to show her around. Didn’t want to have anything to do with him. On the surface, he seemed pleasant enough, but his over familiar manner and the sexual innuendo scared the hell out of her.
    The door to Owen Hamilton’s office stood open. He sat sprawled out in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk. He had a mobile phone glued to his ear and a smarmy grin on his face.
    “All right, Dad. I’m sorry I missed the meeting, but they don’t need me. You’re the Managing Director. I have to go. There’s a new staff member waiting for me.”
    He jabbed the disconnect button before slipping the phone into his coat pocket. Slowly, almost leisurely, he removed his feet from the desk and stood up, striking the same intimidating pose of yesterday.
    “How are you, Holly?”
    “I’m fine, thank you.” She fumed as his eyes ranged all over her, lingering longest at breast level. So, Daddy was Managing Director. That explained a lot of things.
    “I better take you up to the Radiology Department. They’re waiting for you. Your baby settled in all right at the crèche?”
    “Yes, thanks. I think she’ll be happy there.”
    “Good.” He came up close. She could smell the cloying male cologne he wore. He must have soaked himself in it.
    As he took hold of her arm, she gritted her teeth, forcing herself not to flinch.
    Radiology was situated down in the basement. Thankfully, the elevator was made of glass, and everyone could see them. She wouldn’t trust Owen in a closed-in elevator. She wouldn’t trust him anywhere.
    The radiologist, a middle aged balding man named Dr. Stevens, smiled and shook her hand but appeared rather standoffish, which suited her admirably. She didn’t like touchy-feely men. Perhaps that’s why she disliked Owen so much.
    There were two male radiographers and a female ultrasonographer who also performed the mammograms. They were all young and friendly, and she started to relax. Owen showed her to her office. It contained a dicta-phone machine, so she would obviously be typing the reports from tapes. Strange that a prestigious hospital like this would use such outdated equipment.
    What a stroke of luck, she knew the word processing system well, and as long as Dr. Stevens dictated clearly, there wouldn’t be any insurmountable problems. Except maybe Owen. She kept getting bad vibes from him.
    “I’ll leave you to it,” Owen said, patting her on the backside. It was galling but she had to ignore it because she needed the job. “I’ll catch up with you soon.” His smile seemed more like a leer. His eyes were lecherous.
    Not if I can help it. She tried to quell her rising fury. “Thanks.”  This sexual predator should be reported, but to whom? And would anyone believe her word over that of the Managing Director’s son - - a Managing Director who numbered Justin Devereux among his friends?
    She had just finished ringing Cheryl with her phone number when Dr. Stevens strode over to her with a bundle of referral forms and a tape. “Are you familiar with the equipment?” he asked.
    “Yes, I’ve used it before.”
    “Good. Um, if it’s an urgent report or the patient is waiting