The Millionaire's Wish (2 page)

His private line lit up. He set the paperweight back down on his desk and put his assistant on speaker. “What is it, Carol?”

“I'm sending a woman in to see you.” She sounded irritated, but then she always did. After six years, he still wasn't sure if the irritation was for the world in general or him in particular.

He frowned. “You know I'm preparing for the product review tomorrow. Who is it you want to send in?”

“Someone from that foundation. The one that runs the Wish Upon a Star program.”

He felt a twinge of guilt. That girl—Jenny or Julie or something. She was undergoing cancer treatment, and she wanted to meet him. Her request had come in a letter from a nonprofit agency, explaining who they were and what they did, and asking if they could arrange a hospital visit on the girl's behalf.

“I told you to decline their request and send them a check.”

“Which I did,
mon capitaine.
But someone has come in person to speak with you about the matter. A Ms. Allison Landry.”

“Ms. Landry is out of luck. Send her on her way.”

“No.”

His eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, no?”

“Look, boss. There may be assistants out there who could turn away a righteous woman trying to help a girl with cancer, but I am not one of them. I'm sending Ms. Landry in.”

Rick felt another twinge of guilt, but he refused to give in to it. He had no desire to visit a cancer ward and his reasons were no one's business. And he'd had it up to here with righteous women today, between his grandmother and Carol and now this latest interruption.

He pictured her as a woman with iron gray hair and an iron gray demeanor, and the thought of her invading his inner sanctum and scowling at him in disapproval was too damn irritating to deal with.

“I'm in a bad mood. If she comes in here I'll just snarl at her.”

Carol snorted. “This one can take it. She'll snarl right back.”

Definitely iron gray.

Rick sighed. “Fine. Go ahead and send her in.”

He barely had time to rise to his feet before his door opened and Allison Landry stepped into his office.

Never in his life had a preconceived image been so off the mark. The woman coming toward him was hardly more than a girl—a girl whose short, silky haircut made her look like an angry pixie.

She had a pixie's body, too—at least what he could
see of it. Her slender, understated curves weren't exactly showcased by her jeans and flannel shirt.

This was not a woman who used her appearance to get what she wanted. She didn't even wear makeup, he noted as she came to a halt in front of his desk, her eyes blazing and her cheeks flushed.

Not that she needed it. She had perfect skin—so clear and smooth he found himself wondering if it could possibly feel as soft as it looked.

Her eyes didn't need any help, either. They were the color of—what was the name of that stone? Lapis lazuli? And fringed by eyelashes so thick they were like tiny black fans.

Her mouth…her mouth was pretty good too. Wide and full and sweet, even with the corners turned down as she registered her obvious dislike of everything about him.

She looked mad as hell. And the fact that he was a rich and powerful CEO was not going to stop her from telling him about it.

 

Allison rode her wave of anger right into the executive office. And there was Rick Hunter, rising to his feet to meet her, every hair in place and with no hint of stubble along his jaw.

He was all business, exuding the same power and sophistication as the mahogany and leather furniture that had probably set him back what Allison paid in office rent for a year. She couldn't even imagine what the suit cost. She'd always thought that computer executives had a more casual look, but Rick Hunter obviously preferred formality.

Probably because it kept people at a distance.

“Mr. Hunter,” she began coldly. “I came here to—”

He came around to the front of his desk, and she backed up a pace or two before she could stop herself. He was tall, about eight inches taller than her five foot six, and the difference made her feel at a disadvantage. “You're from the Star Foundation?” he asked.

“I'm the director. And I—”

“The director?” He leaned back against his desk. “You look about eighteen.”

“I'm twenty-seven,” she said in a voice like ice. “Want to see my driver's license?”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “That's all right. I believe you.” He studied her for a moment, his green eyes appraising. “You're here because I turned down that girl's request. I suppose you think I owe you an apology.”

Her spine stiffened. “You don't owe me a damn thing, and I'm not interested in an apology. I'm only interested in knowing when you're going to visit Julie. I know you're a busy professional with demands on your time—” she didn't even try to curb the sarcasm in her voice “—and that the request of a stranger doesn't loom large on your to-do list. Especially when it would involve spending an entire hour devoted to something other than business or your own pleasure—”

He raised his hands, palms out. “Slow down, Ms. Landry. I don't—”

“And I'm sure you're not used to sacrificing even that much time to make someone else happy. But if you had any idea what these kids go through on a daily basis—the hell their families live through—”

“I do,” he said roughly, and when she stopped in surprise, staring at him, he looked away. That was actually
a relief, as she found herself strangely distracted by those green eyes, which the photographer, good as he or she had been, hadn't done justice to.

“I mean,” he said more quietly, “I can imagine. And despite what you obviously think of me, I didn't turn down your request because I'm a selfish, uncaring bastard. My reasons—” he stopped. “My reasons are none of your business. But I'd be more than happy to make a sizable donation to your foundation, and if you choose to use some of those funds to get something for Jenny—”

“Her name is Julie.” She was so mad her skin felt hot. “It might interest you to know that most of our kids don't wish for
things.
Most of their wishes have to do with people—wanting to meet a favorite writer or athlete or musician. Wanting to meet someone they admire.”

That made him frown. “Why would Julie admire
me?
”

“Didn't you read her letter? You designed her favorite game, and she loves it. It's helped her through a terrible time in her life. Something about the game connected with her, and because of that, she feels connected to you. She'd like to meet you. Why is that so hard to understand? And why on earth can't you take an hour or two out of your day to—”

“No,” he said abruptly. “I'm sorry to disappoint you—and her—but that's not going to be possible. Now, why don't we discuss that donation I mentioned? I'm sure an agency like yours needs every—”

“I'm not interested in your money.”

The words came out impulsively. She knew she'd regret them tomorrow. Even now a voice was telling her not to be stupid, not to be proud, and to take Rick
Hunter's guilt money. People who ran nonprofits couldn't afford to be choosy, and plenty of donations were made for publicity, or for the tax deduction, or for any number of reasons that had nothing to do with the foundation's mission. And she'd been grateful for every dime, and never let herself judge other people's motivations.

Until now. For some reason, she wasn't willing to let Rick Hunter off so easily, even if refusing his offer hurt her more than it annoyed him.

She took a deep breath. “You can't fix this with money. You're just going to have to deal with the fact that you're disappointing a girl who's already had enough disappointments to last a lifetime.”

Something flashed in his eyes, there and gone. “I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I can't believe you wouldn't benefit from a financial contribution. I know nonprofits have been struggling the last couple of years.”

That was a hit to her solar plexus.

“Try to get this through your head, Mr. Hunter.
I don't want your money.
But since that's the only topic you're willing to discuss, I might as well go.”

“Wait,” he said gruffly. “Don't storm out, all right? Just—wait a second.”

She'd been on the point of turning away, but now she hesitated. His eyes were on her face, and once again there was something in his expression she couldn't decipher. It held her in place for a moment.

“Look, how about this,” he said after a long pause. “I'll send you a check next week, to give you time to…” He hesitated. “To think things through. I won't hold you to anything you said here today, and I hope you'll
accept the donation. Okay? I'm sure you could use the money.”

He was making it easy for both of them. She could storm out in self-righteous anger, take a few days to calm down, and deposit his check without having to back down from her lofty position. Not to his face, anyway.

Her jaw felt stiff. “Yes, we could use the money. The Star Foundation is struggling right now. But money is only part of what keeps us going. The heart of what we do is help
people.
When our kids make wishes, they're specific. They're personal. Anyone can donate money, Mr. Hunter. But Julie wants to meet
you.
”

She was trying to reach the man she'd glimpsed so briefly behind the facade. Instead, her words only made him withdraw again.

“I'm sorry.”

“But—”

“I don't like hospitals,” he said, as if that ended the discussion.

Allison stared at him. “No one likes hospitals. That's why it's so important to help the people who are stuck in them.”

“I'm sorry,” he said again. His expression was blank and cool.

Had she only imagined seeing a real human being behind that mask? “I'm sorry, too,” she said after a moment. “Parents feel so helpless when a child is diagnosed with cancer. Every instinct tells them to protect their kids, and then along comes a situation completely outside their control. That's why it's so frustrating when someone like you could actually
do
something—take some small, positive action to make a difference—only you won't.”

Another flash of emotion showed through. “Ms. Landry—”

She wouldn't be drawn in again. “Goodbye, Mr. Hunter.”

She left his office without looking back.

In the privacy of the elevator, she took a deep breath. When the doors opened she hurried across the elegant lobby, relieved to step outside again into the fresh air.

She walked quickly, impatient at every crosswalk. Her heart was beating faster than usual. After several blocks she realized she'd gone right past the garage where she'd parked.

She stopped, turned, and went slowly back the way she'd come.

She was supposed to be good with people. It was her job to get them involved, to persuade them they could make a difference.

But she'd failed to make even a dent in Rick Hunter's armor. She'd felt at a disadvantage from the moment she walked into his office, and that wasn't something she was used to.

And she'd ended up with nothing. No visit for Julie, and no money for the foundation. He'd offered, and she'd turned him down. She'd never refused a donation before.

She slid behind the wheel of her truck and turned the key in the ignition. He'd probably still send a check—he seemed like the persistent type. She'd just have to swallow her pride and accept it.

Pride had no place in her work. Nothing, and certainly not her own ego, could be allowed to get in the way of her mission to help families.

So why had she let Rick Hunter get to her? Why had
she taken their encounter so personally? She'd swallowed her pride before—why did this feel so different?

She remembered those moments when she'd seen something underneath his coldness…something like real emotion. Like he really did feel badly about Julie. Like he really did want to help her.

That was the only reason she'd stayed as long as she did. Once she realized he wasn't going to budge, she should have left. But a part of her had wanted to stay, to see if maybe, just maybe, she could get him to change his mind.

Not just for Julie's sake, but for his, too. It would have been nice to see those two meet—the icy CEO and the irrepressible Julie, who managed to radiate enthusiasm for life even when she was exhausted by cancer treatments. There was no way Rick could meet her and not smile. Not unless the man truly lacked both a soul and a heart.

And somehow, in spite of everything, she didn't think that was the case.

She slammed on her brakes for a red light she'd almost missed, adrenaline prickling her skin.

When the light turned green again she stepped carefully on the gas. It didn't matter why her interaction with Rick Hunter had gotten under her skin. Maybe it was just the accumulated stress of a bad day. But from now on, she'd think of him like any other donor. When his check came, she'd cash it. She'd add him to the foundation's mailing list and send him a thank-you card.

And she'd never have to see him again.

O
n the days Rick walked to work, he usually took the most direct route between his condo and his office. Today he made a detour past James Memorial Hospital.

After eighteen years, he could drive past the place without being affected. He saw the hospital through his car window a dozen times a week. But now he stopped in front of the building, looking up at the rows of windows. He still remembered which one had been his mother's.

Fourth floor, third from the left.

He lasted about ten seconds before he walked away. His hands were fisted inside his pockets.

Memories of grief and helplessness were a sick weight in his stomach. During the intervening years he'd built up layers of strength—physical, financial, emotional—
all designed to insulate him from ever feeling helpless again.

He'd be a fool to undo any of it, to revisit that pit of emotional hell. The only reason he was even considering it was because of his plan to keep Hunter Hall—the plan he wanted Allison Landry to agree to.

The thought had occurred to him a few minutes after she'd left his office, and he'd dismissed it almost immediately. But then, as the day wore on, he couldn't get the idea out of his head.

He couldn't get her out of his head, either.

Not because he was interested in her. She was pretty—beautiful, even—but she wasn't remotely his type.

He recalled the sight of her standing in the middle of his polished, expensive office, looking anything but polished and expensive. Allison had been fierce and passionate and focused on her mission. The women he dated were sleek and sophisticated and focused on him—or on landing a rich husband, anyway. And from their five-hundred-dollar hairdos to their manicured toes, they were designed to impress.

Allison didn't give a damn about impressing people. Her personality, her appearance…she was the complete opposite of the women he usually went out with.

And exactly the kind of woman his grandmother wished he would date.

What was it Gran had said? That it wouldn't kill him to date a woman of character for once. That she just wanted to believe he could change his ways.

She wasn't asking for a wedding or an engagement. So maybe, if he was with a woman like Allison for a few months, that would satisfy her.

It would only be for show, of course. Allison wasn't interested in him—that had been pretty damn obvious—and he wasn't interested in her. Which made her perfect, because he had no intention of actually falling for her—or any woman, for that matter. Nothing made a man more helpless than that.

This would be a straightforward business deal, beneficial to both parties.

Provided he could make Allison an offer she couldn't refuse.

When he arrived at the office, Carol was already at her desk. “What are you thinking about, boss? You've got a funny look on your face.”

“I was thinking about Allison Landry.”

Carol handed him some letters to sign. “I'm not surprised. That's a young woman who makes an impression.”

He scrawled his name on the signature lines. “She made an impression on you, anyway.” He handed the letters back. “You liked her, didn't you?”

“I did. The way she charged in here, like David taking on Goliath…when this company was just a start-up, I got to see more people like that. People with passion, you know? Now it's just a parade of business types, corporate suits like you.”

He frowned, disliking that characterization more than he would have expected. “You think I'm just a suit?”

“Maybe not,” Carol said grudgingly. “But ten more years and that's exactly what you'll be. Of course if you got back to the creative side of things, maybe designed a new game…”

“Games are for children. Why do you think we recruit out of college for that division?”

“You could design for the business software line.”

He shook his head. “Give it up, Carol. You know I'm too busy.”

“You could hire a couple of VPs to handle some of your corporate responsibilities and free up your time to—”

“Not going to happen.”

Carol sighed. “Well, no one can say I didn't try.” She glanced down at her message spindle. “Nelson called, by the way. He wants to talk to you about his noncompete agreement.”

Rick felt a quick pulse of anger. “He can go to hell. He left us two weeks before product launch and now he's trying to wriggle out of his agreement? Screw that. The next time he calls, refer him to our attorneys.”

“I'll give him the message, but you don't always have to be such a hard-ass. Were you like this with Allison Landry? Is that why she blew through here so fast, after she talked to you?”

Rick had started toward his office, but now he paused. “She was upset?”

“She didn't look happy. So I guess that means you're not going to do it, huh?”

“Do what?”

“Visit that girl in the hospital.”

Carol knew he avoided hospitals, although she'd never asked him why.

“I'm not planning on it,” was all he said now.

He went into his office and shut the door behind him. A few minutes later he was at his computer, reading about the Star Foundation and its young director.

Allison had lost a sister to cancer when she was eighteen. She'd taken a year off before starting college at
the University of Iowa, where she eventually majored in business. While she was still in school a small publishing house released a memoir based on the journals Allison had kept during her sister's illness and in the year after her death.

To her own surprise, the memoir had become a bestseller. After she graduated, Allison used the proceeds from her book to start the Star Foundation. The agency provided support to families dealing with childhood cancer and also administered the Wish Upon a Star program, which worked to grant wishes to seriously ill children. In the last five years the foundation had touched the lives of hundreds of families.

Rick leaned back in his chair. She had a pretty impressive resume for a twenty-seven-year-old.

Based on what he'd just read about the agency and the scope of its services, he figured Allison's operating budget was around three million dollars. He could also make a guess as to the financial difficulties she was facing. Nonprofits all around the country were still struggling.

He clicked on an image link, and a photo of Allison popped up on his screen.

Her soft brown bangs and serious expression made her look earnest and idealistic, but the tilt of her chin hinted at the force and determination he'd seen in his office yesterday.

And her bone structure could probably land her a modeling job.

Not a woman who could be easily categorized. When Rick realized he was staring, he closed the internet browser and picked up his phone.

 

“We had a letter from Telecorp today. They have to cut their annual donation by fifteen percent.” Allison sighed, wondering how much more bad news would be coming their way. “I wanted to start paying you this summer. Scott and Beverly, too. Maybe I can still figure a way to—”

“Don't be silly,” Rachel said briskly. “I wouldn't let you pay me. What part of volunteer don't you understand?”

“The part where you're getting your MBA next month and will probably be looking for gainful employment.”

“If and when that happens, I'll still volunteer on weekends. I love the work we do here, you know that—and I'm not going to abandon you when you need me most. I know we're going through rough times financially, but we'll get through it. And in the meantime, I'm not going to let you or our kids down.”

Tears came into Allison's eyes. “You're amazing, you know that?”

The phone rang, and she picked it up absently.

“Star Foundation, Allison speaking.”

“Ms. Landry? This is Rick Hunter.”

She almost dropped the phone.

“Ms. Landry? Are you there?”

She cleared her throat. “Um…yes. Yes, I'm here.”

His rich baritone voice was cool and businesslike. “I'm calling because we didn't end things on the best of terms yesterday, and I'm hoping we can start over.”

“Start over?”

“Yes. I have a business proposal for you.”

“A business proposal?”

She knew she was repeating everything he said, but she couldn't seem to come up with anything more intelligent.

“Why don't you let me explain over coffee? I've got a busy day, and I'm sure you do too. How about 6:30, at the Starbucks around the corner from your office? Unless there's someplace more convenient for you.”

“No, that…would be fine.”

“Until then,” he said.

“Until then,” she echoed.

There was a brief pause. Not sure what else to do, she hung up.

She stared at the phone on her desk, her hand still curled around the receiver. She was meeting Rick Hunter tonight.

So much for never seeing him again.

“Who was that?” Rachel asked curiously.

Allison explained, and Rachel stared at her.

“I don't believe it. You have a date with Rick Hunter!”

“It's not a date. But it's weird, isn't it? What kind of business proposal could he have for me?”

“He doesn't. That's just to camouflage his real interest.” Rachel's eyes were sparkling. “He fell madly in love with you at first sight, but sensing your animosity he had to—”

“Will you please join me back here in reality?”

“Reality is overrated. Okay, at least give me some details. You hardly told me anything yesterday. Is he as sexy in person as he is in that magazine? Just looking at his picture makes me want to burst into song.”

Allison's mouth twitched. “Like in a musical?”

Rachel sighed dramatically. “More like an opera. I
could do a whole aria about my lust for Rick Hunter. Did you sing while you were in his office?”

“No. I mostly yelled at him for being a selfish jerk. Which he is, by the way. He turned down Julie's wish, and whatever he wants to see me about, I don't think it's to tell me he's changed his mind.”

Rachel shook her head. “I tried to tell you before, you're prejudiced. I read about him in that article. His company supports a lot of charities. And he went into the army right after 9/11—that's not selfish, is it?”

Okay, that was surprising. Allison had a soft spot for soldiers—her brother was overseas right now on his fourth tour of duty.

Of course, military service didn't automatically make Rick Hunter a hero. Not everyone went into the army for noble reasons. Maybe he just wanted to blow things up. He did design all those violent video games, after all.

“You know, I think you're right,” she mused aloud.

“I frequently am. About what, specifically?”

“I think I
am
prejudiced. I'm looking for reasons not to like him.”

“That's because you're fighting an attraction so powerful you—”

Allison laughed. “Okay, stop. I won't admit to a powerful attraction, but I'll try to keep an open mind when I meet him later. Is that good enough?”

Rachel grinned. “For now.”

 

Rick finished work by five o'clock, which left him time for a quick workout before his appointment with Allison. He rode the elevator down to the basement, where he'd had a fitness center installed for his employees.

He was about to start his usual weight circuit when one of his VPs challenged him to some one-on-one basketball.

A short but hard fought game left him feeling relaxed and loose. He took a quick shower, decided to change into jeans and a T-shirt, and at six-twenty strolled into the Starbucks near Allison's office.

She wasn't there yet. If she was like nine women out of ten he knew, she'd be late, of course. He settled himself at a table in the back with a black coffee and the
Wall Street Journal
, but found himself glancing toward the entrance every couple of minutes.

At six-thirty on the dot, she came through the door.

He'd been wondering if she would dress any differently for this second meeting. He was used to women primping for him, dressing up for him. Hell, he'd been with women who wore makeup to bed.

Not that this was a date, of course. But it wasn't crazy to think that Allison might have put some thought into her appearance before seeing him again.

She gave a nod of recognition when she saw him and threaded her way through the crowd toward his table.

She was wearing jeans and a gray sweatshirt. When she sat down, he could see she wasn't wearing any makeup at all. Not even lip gloss.

Okay, that confirmed it. Allison Landry was not attracted to him.

Which was perfect, he reminded himself. For the kind of arrangement he was looking for, attraction would only be a complication.

“Hello again,” he said, laying down his newspaper. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

She smiled, and her face was transformed. Gone
was the serious-minded idealist. When she smiled like that she looked sweet, a little playful, and completely charming.

“I have to admit, I'm curious as to what kind of business proposal you have for me.”

He hesitated. “Can I get you some coffee first? Or tea?”

“No, thanks.”

He hesitated again. The straightforward look in her blue eyes made him feel unsure of himself, something he wasn't used to. “Before I tell you about it, I'd like to apologize for yesterday. We didn't get off on the right foot.”

“Maybe not, but we're here to start over, like you said.” She rested her forearms on the table and clasped her hands together. “Tell me about your proposal, Mr. Hunter.”

“Rick.”

“Okay, Rick. And you can call me Allison. Now that we're on a first name basis, will you tell me why I'm here?”

In a negotiation, always lead with strength. He took out the check he'd already signed and slid it across the table.