The Millionaire's Wish

by Abigail Strom

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry, but I’m not your solution here.”

  He looked surprised. “You won’t do it?”

  “Don’t look so shocked. You’re obviously used to people falling all over themselves to give you whatever you want, but—”

  Now he was frowning. “I don’t expect people to fall all over me.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I bet no one ever says no to you. Come on, admit it. Don’t you usually get your way? Maybe always?”

  He folded his arms, like her. “No.”

  “You grew up rich, didn’t you? I can spot the attitude a mile off. The silver spoon crowd—you’re all alike. You think because you—”

  “Hey! Stop doing that.”

  His voice was sharp enough that she actually did. “Stop doing what?” she asked.

  “Stop making assumptions. Stop judging me because I have money. I’m sorry if that offends you—”

  “That’s not what offends me. It’s your obvious belief that everything—and everyone—should just fall in your lap.”

  He leaned forward again. “I don’t think that. I’ve never thought that. Believe me, I could give you a long list of things I’ve wanted in my life that I didn’t get.”

  She frowned at him. “You ooze confidence. It practically…drips off you.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to apologize for being confident. I am confident. But not because I have money, in spite of what you obviously believe. I’m confident because I believe in myself. Don’t you believe in yourself?”

  Of course she did. As far as work went, anyway. As for personal stuff…

  Irrelevant, Allison decided. She shrugged impatiently. “I suppose. Anyway, we got off track with the—”

  “You got off track, as I recall. With your prejudice against the wealthy.”

  “I’m not prejudiced.”

  “What I don’t get is how you can run a charitable foundation. Aren’t rich people kind of your bread and butter? How do you manage to hide the fact that you despise them when you’re asking for donations?”

  She flushed. “That’s a terrible thing to say. For one thing, it’s not only the wealthy who contribute to charities. And for another, I don’t hate rich people. I’m incredibly grateful to anyone who donates their money—or their time—to the Star Foundation. Especially when they do it because they want to, and not because they expect something in return.”

  His jaw tightened. “Unlike me, right? Is that what you wanted to hear? Yes, I’m selfish. No, I don’t give without expecting something back. I’m sorry I don’t meet your high standards for human behavior, or fit into your perfect little world where everyone acts like a saint. But here’s a reality flash for you.”

  He stabbed a forefinger on the table in front of her. “Charities all over the country are struggling right now, and yours is no exception. You can keep on looking down your nose at me, and let your foundation suffer—or you can admit you need my money and take it. How many of the families you pretend to care so much about will be hurt if you turn me down?”

  He leaned back again. “Sounds pretty damn selfish to me.”

  She was so mad her hands were shaking. But the worst part was, she knew he was right.

  If she turned down his donation, she’d have to cut programs and services. The reality of that stared her in the face.

  Looking across the table at him, seeing the coldness that had come into his expression, Allison felt a sudden wave of recklessness.

  Why shouldn’t she accept his offer? They’d go out to a few overpriced restaurants and have a few stilted conversations. Why had the idea of that made her feel so nervous, so awkward and unsure of herself? Right now, she didn’t feel awkward at all. The anger flowing in her veins made her feel like she could do anything.

  So yes, she’d take his money. With a donation this big, she might be able to add some services this year. Expand her existing programs. Reach more families.

  And she’d get something else from him, too.

  “I’ll do it.”

  He blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

  “I accept your proposal.”

  “You do?”

  “On one condition.” She leaned forward, schooling her features into what she hoped was an implacable expression. “You’ll visit Julie in the hospital this Saturday.”

  To drop her eyes at this point would be a sign of weakness, so she held his gaze as his eyes narrowed and his dark brows slanted together.

  After a minute he started to drum the fingers of one hand against the table. When he realized what he was doing he curled that hand into a fist.

  “What if I say no?”

  She shrugged. “You’ll have to find another woman of character who’s not attracted to you. It won’t be that hard. From where I sit, those two qualities seem to go together naturally.”

  Another minute of silence. Then his fisted hand relaxed, and he leaned back in his chair.

  “I should have realized you were capable of driving a hard bargain. You don’t give up easily, do you?”

  “The families I work with don’t give up. I hold myself to the same standard.” She took a quick breath. “So do we have a deal, or not?”

  His eyes didn’t leave hers. “We have a deal,” he said.

  A deal.

  Half a million dollars for the foundation, and Julie’s wish granted.

  And a date with one of People magazine’s Most Eligible Bachelors. Several dates, actually. A few months worth of dates.

  She felt a little dizzy. “Okay, then.” She took another breath. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than sit here with me all night.” She took out her wallet and tucked his check carefully inside. Her hands shook a little. “When can I deposit this?” she asked. “Do you want me to wait until after I’ve honored my side of the bargain?”

  He shook his head. “No, I trust you. You’re a woman of character, remember?”

  He was actually smiling a little, and she smiled back reluctantly. “I’ll let Julie know you’ll be coming by on Saturday.”

  If he’d been anyone but a powerful CEO, she would have said a look of panic came into his eyes. “I assumed you’d be there, too. Won’t you be there?”

  He was probably one of those single men who weren’t comfortable around kids. Was that the reason he’d been so reluctant to do this?

  She sighed. “I can be there if you want. Two o’clock, at the hospital?”

  Some of the tension went out of his expression. “Yes, fine. And we’ll go to dinner that night.”

  It was Allison’s turn to feel a pang of anxiety.

  “Now, can I drop you somewhere?”

  He rose to his feet and offered her a hand. Allison extended her own, a little hesitantly, and it was enveloped in a strong, warm grip as he helped her up. She took a step back as she pulled her hand away, tingles radiating from her palm and blood rushing to her cheeks.

  “I’m all set. But thanks.”

  He was just a foot or so away. She had to tilt her head back to look at him.

  She backed away another step. “Well…good night.”

  Her heart racing, she turned away, moving quickly through the crowd to get to the door. She pushed it open and stood outside for a moment, taking in a big gulp of cool evening air.

  She’d made a deal with Rick Hunter. A straightforward business arrangement, as he called it.

  Sure it was straightforward—to him. As for her…well, straightforward wasn’t the word she’d use to describe her mental state at the moment.

  She took another breath. This was for her foundation. She needed to think about the families she could help with Rick’s money—not Rick himself, with his black hair and intense green eyes and well-muscled body.

  She wouldn’t think about his coldness, either…or the few times something else had broken through, just for a moment.

  He thought she wasn’t attracted to him.

  She p
rayed he’d still believe that when their deal expired. Because she didn’t like him, and she didn’t want to be attracted to him.

  And she definitely didn’t want him to know that she was.

  Chapter Three

  Rick had convinced himself it wouldn’t be so bad. An hour, maybe two at the most.

  But right now, staring up at the marble facade of James Memorial Hospital, he couldn’t make his feet take the steps that would lead him inside that building. “Rick?”

  He turned, and Allison was there beside him.

  She looked like a breath of fresh air in a long-sleeved cotton blouse, pale yellow with lavender stripes. Faded jeans showed off her slender legs. Her silky short hair was the perfect frame for her face, with her wide cheekbones and pointed chin and serious blue eyes. In the April sunlight, strands of gold made the chestnut brown shimmer. He wondered why he’d always preferred long hair on women.

  “Hello,” he said.

  Allison was frowning. “Are you all right? You look like you’re feeling sick. Should we reschedule?”

  He shook his head. He was damned if he was going to give in to weakness like this—especially in front of Allison. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Went out with some friends last night, with an emphasis on Southern Comfort. I guess I’m still feeling the effects.” That was true—except about feeling the effects. He might be thirty-five but he could hold his liquor like he was twenty-one.

  “Well…if you’re sure.” She started toward the revolving glass doors, and he forced himself to follow her. Focus on Allison, he told himself. She looked so…reassuring, somehow. Sweet and fresh and warm.

  He made it all the way across the lobby before he had to stop again. They were right in front of the gift shop. In spite of everything he could do, memories of the last time he’d visited this place flooded through him.

  He’d gotten flowers for his mother the day before she died. For years afterward, the scent of flowers had made him sick.

  “Rick! Are you all right?”

  He hated that Allison was seeing him like this. He hated that he couldn’t control himself better. He should be able to control himself. He was a successful man at the height of his career.

  And right now, he might as well be seventeen again. It felt like everything he’d worked for since then had been stripped away.

  “Rick, you’re scaring me. You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I just…need a second.”

  He walked a few paces to a waiting area and sat down on a hard plastic chair. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at the floor tiles. He was aware that Allison had sat down next to him, but he was focusing all his attention on his breathing, on trying to slow his heart rate, on trying to be himself again. Calm and in control.

  “I’m sorry,” he said after a few minutes, when he could look at her again. He thought of a dozen lies he could tell, all believable, but each and every one of them stuck in his throat.

  “My mother died of cancer,” he said abruptly. His voice sounded rough and strange to his own ears. “In this hospital, eighteen years ago. I haven’t been back here since. I haven’t been in any hospital since.”

  He’d never told anyone that before. He hadn’t talked about his mother since the day she died. And why the hell should he? It wasn’t anybody’s damn business—including Allison’s. He could feel his face flushing, like a boy’s. A flicker of anger made his jaw tighten.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “You should have told me. We don’t have to stay. Let’s leave now, all right?”

  The anger died. How could he be angry with Allison? Her hand on his arm was so gentle, and her eyes conveyed compassion without the pity he would have resented.

  “No,” he said, straightening up in his chair. He took a deep breath. “I’m okay. And I want to do this.” He looked down at her. “Your sister died of cancer, didn’t she? I read it in your bio. And I don’t see you running away from hospitals. Or people with cancer.”

  She shook her head, rejecting the comparison. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last ten years, it’s that people react differently to grief. I responded by—well, by making cancer my mission. That was what I needed to do, to get through it. You had a different reaction. But you shouldn’t judge yourself for the way you responded to your loss. And you shouldn’t force yourself to do this right now if you’re not ready for it. I can tell Julie…”

  “No. I want to see her. And I won’t be…like this.”

  “It’s okay if you are. These kids don’t need people to put on happy faces like clown makeup. It’s good to be positive, but it’s even better to be real. To be whoever you are. Kids are perceptive—they know when you’re lying to them. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” he said. He took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

  Allison could feel the tension coursing through him as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor and stepped out into the pediatric ward.

  Rick hadn’t turned down Julie’s wish because he was selfish. He’d turned it down because he’d known how hard it would be to come back here. To revisit his loss.

  She’d broken one of her cardinal rules—never to judge someone without knowing them. Her work put her in a position to see people at their worst as well as their best, and because of that, she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Always, no matter what the circumstances. Human beings were complex, and she never wanted to take shortcuts through that complexity, to define people based on superficialities.

  So why had she been so quick to judge Rick?

  She remembered how he’d looked down in the lobby, like a boy confronted with an uncomfortable emotion—grief or anger or shame. She wondered how he’d react when he saw Julie. The young girl certainly looked like a cancer patient, with her thin, pale face and the scarf she wore to hide her baldness.

  When they entered her room Julie was staring at the TV monitor in front of her with fixed intensity, holding a video game controller in her hand and manipulating buttons so fast Allison couldn’t follow the motions. She seemed completely unaware of her surroundings. Allison and Rick came up to her bedside and she didn’t even register their presence.

  Allison glanced over at Rick, and was glad to see that he looked better. He was watching what Julie was doing, and Allison remembered with a sudden shock that he had actually designed this game. She looked at the monitor they were both studying and saw several characters, all more or less medieval looking, with swords and spears and bows, facing down forty or fifty unpleasant looking lizard-like creatures who also were holding swords.

  Julie gave a cry of frustration as one of the characters on screen—a tall, blond man in chain mail—took an arrow in the neck and fell writhing to the ground.

  “Quick,” Rick said, grabbing the controls from Julie and doing something Allison couldn’t follow. “That kind of armor has a one-time healing spell woven into it. Hardly anyone under level forty knows about it, but—”

  Before their eyes Julie’s character sat up, pulled the arrow out of his miraculously healed flesh, and leapt to his feet. He uttered a bloodcurdling battle cry and hurled himself back into the fray.

  Rick paused the game and handed the controls back to Julie. “Sorry,” he said. “I get carried away sometimes. My name is—”

  “I know who you are,” Julie said. Her voice was hushed, her eyes luminous as she stared at him.

  Allison hid her smile. “Julie, this is Richard Hunter. Rick, this is Julie Pratt.”

  “Hi, Julie,” Rick said, smiling as he held out his hand. Julie looked like she was in the presence of royalty, or at least Taylor Lautner, as she shook it.

  “Is Eric your favorite?” Rick was asking, grabbing a chair and sitting down by Julie’s bed.

  “Uh-huh,” Julie said. “I like that he can use magic but he’s also a warrior. You know? And he has such a tragic past.”

  “He’s definitely
the most complex character,” Rick agreed. “Do you want to play two-person? I could take Teska or Unthas if you’d like.”

  Julie made a kind of gurgling sound that Allison thought was probably an affirmative. Rick must have interpreted it the same way, because he took a spare controller from the shelf below the monitor and settled back into his chair with a look on his face that mirrored Julie’s as the two of them started pushing buttons.

  Allison pulled up a chair herself and sat quietly, fascinated by the instant bond created by this game. Rick and Julie were talking to each other about battle tactics, about something called the Gem of Fanor, and about the mind games their characters had to endure in the Labyrinth of Dreams, which could, apparently, reveal the characters’ deepest motivations and desires but could also deceive and betray. The characters all seemed to have complicated backstories that tied into their quests, which both Rick and Julie knew inside and out.

  This was a different Rick Hunter than the man she’d met two days ago. He’d been hit by a painful memory today—a memory that had the power to get past his defenses. He’d faced it, and now it was as if he’d forgotten to put his armor back on. He was talking and laughing with Julie as if they were both sixteen.

  Allison cleared her throat. “It looks like you two are busy, so I’m going to pay a few visits. See you in a bit, okay?”

  Julie didn’t even hear her, but Rick gave her a quick grin before turning back to the young girl who looked like she’d been given the best gift of her life.

  Allison visited several patients before going back to check on Rick and Julie. They were still talking about the game, although the TV was off now. Julie was sitting straight up in bed and chatting a mile a minute, like any normal teenage girl. Allison was so happy to see her like that it was a few minutes before she paid any attention to what they were saying.

  “I’ve made it inside a few times, but only to the front hallway. The spell always ends so fast. A friend of mine made it into the library once, and he actually found the Book of Hadram before the magic sent him back to the forest. He brought the book with him, too, and the spells and maps in there got him up to the seventeenth level. I suppose I shouldn’t ask you how to stay in the house longer, right? I mean, I should probably figure it out for myself. I know it’s a combination of different magics, but of course the higher level players are all cagey about the secrets they’ve figured out. I’d love to have time to explore the whole house, you know? Since Rick—I mean, oh my gosh, you—put all kinds of cool stuff in there. Plus I’ve heard it’s really beautiful inside. Is it true that it’s based on your own house?”