The Millionaire's Wish

by Abigail Strom

  “Not mine,” Rick corrected. “It’s based on Hunter Hall, which belongs to my grandmother. I spent some time there as a kid.”

  That was the house Rick had talked about at the coffee shop…the house his grandmother was going to give to someone else.

  “Can I see it?” Allison asked suddenly, causing Rick and Julie to notice that she was in the doorway for the first time.

  “Hi,” Rick said, standing up to offer her his chair.

  “Does this mean he has to go?” Julie asked mournfully, and Allison shook her head. “Not at all—unless you have to be somewhere?” she asked Rick belatedly. Not everyone had the appetite for kid conversation that she did.

  “Nope,” he said, causing Julie to smile like a sunrise.

  “So, can I see this house you were talking about?” Allison asked again, and Julie moved over on the bed so she could sit beside her, while Rick sat back down on the chair.

  “Here,” Julie said, turning the TV back on and clicking the video controls until a picture of a three story stone mansion filled the screen. “That’s the magician’s house. If you can figure out how to find it, and then how to get through the magic barrier, and then figure out how to stay there longer than a minute or two, there’s amazing stuff hidden all around that will help you advance in the game.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Allison said, noting the gorgeous detail that had been lavished on every inch: the intricate carving and tracery around the windows and arches, gables and turrets. “Did you really design that?” she asked, turning to Rick. She heard the admiration in her voice and hoped she wasn’t starting to sound like Julie.

  “I designed the game, but the house, like I said, is based on Hunter Hall. So I had something real to work from.”

  Julie asked a question then, something about the game that went over her head. As Rick answered her in technical terms that also went over her head, Allison leaned back against Julie’s bed pillows and studied the house on the screen.

  After a minute she looked at Rick, laughing and relaxed as he talked about gaming strategies to someone who bore no resemblance, at this moment, to a girl whose body and life had been ravaged by cancer.

  He was wearing a tan button-down shirt and a pair of faded jeans that emphasized how long and hard-muscled his legs were. His boots were as well-worn as the jeans, and she had a good view of them as he leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him, one ankle hooked over the other.

  Watching him like this was like watching a lion recline in the sun. There was a sense of power at rest, of coiled strength in every muscle—and a keen intelligence, too, that could be just as overwhelming as physical force.

  Rick Hunter was the last person in the world you could imagine feeling sorry for. He was the picture of male success—money, good looks, power and prestige. How did that jibe with the man she’d glimpsed down in the lobby, who eighteen years later still found his mother’s death almost too painful to face? And how did it jibe with the house he’d created in his game, a house like a holy grail—a source of magic that was practically out of reach, that most players could only wish for and never attain?

  Allison wasn’t sure. But she knew that there was more to Rick Hunter than met the eye, and that she’d judged him without knowing him, just like he’d said.

  A few minutes later a nurse came in, glancing ostentatiously at the clock, and Rick and Allison both rose to their feet.

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” Julie said wistfully, holding her arm out for the blood pressure cuff. “I don’t suppose…I mean…you wouldn’t want to come again, would you?”

  “Sure I would,” Rick said, and Allison was positive she’d never seen any human being radiate as much pure happiness as Julie did in that moment.

  “You made her day,” Allison told him in the elevator. “What am I saying? You made her century.”

  Rick shook his head. “I think I had more fun than she did. It’s been a long, long time since I actually played a video game. And Julie’s a great kid.”

  The elevator doors opened and they walked back through the lobby. Rick let her precede him through the revolving doors and they stepped outside, into the bright sunshine and fitful spring breeze.

  Rick turned to face her. “I’m glad you made me do this. I’m glad I didn’t miss out on meeting Julie.”

  “I’m glad, too.”

  He cleared his throat. “So…dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up around seven, okay?”

  Allison felt a clench of uneasiness. It had been easier to think about going through with these fake dates when she’d felt indifferent to Rick, or even hostile toward him. But today she’d seen the man behind the facade, and a part of her wanted to see more.

  Foolish thought. Their date tonight wasn’t real: it was a business arrangement. As far as Rick Hunter was concerned, she was just a means to an end.

  She took a breath. “Seven is fine. And thanks again for what you did today. For Julie.”

  She felt a little better as she remembered the radiant smile that had lit up the girl’s face. In the grand scheme of things, any awkwardness or uncertainty she might feel tonight was a small price to pay for that. “You granted her wish,” she said now. “You did a good thing.”

  He frowned. “I never thought I’d be in the wish-granting business. I gave up on wishes a long time ago.”

  That sounded more like the CEO she’d met in his office, and the man she’d sat across from at Starbucks. Rick was retreating back into his familiar persona, and a part of her resisted the change.

  “I don’t believe anyone can give up on wishes. Not completely. Don’t you still wish for Hunter Hall? Isn’t that why you’re here today?”

  He shrugged. His dark hair fell across his forehead, giving him a boyish look that contrasted with his cool expression. “I don’t know if it qualifies as a wish. But yes, I want Hunter Hall. It’s my one weakness.”

  She tilted her head as she looked up at him. “So if your plan works, you won’t have any weaknesses at all?”

  He was quiet for a moment, looking down at her. Then he started to smile. “Are you making fun of me?”

  The smile gave her another glimpse of the man she’d seen with Julie…the man she felt so drawn to. “Not on purpose,” she said. That time there was definitely a teasing tone in her voice, but his smile had reached his eyes, warming them, and he didn’t seem to mind.

  She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Well…goodbye, Rick. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  He nodded. “I made reservations at Ambrosia. The food is great, and there’s usually at least one gossip columnist at the bar. The sooner we get our picture in the paper, the better.”

  Their picture in the paper.

  In the eyes of the world, she would be dating Rick Hunter. A man who intrigued and frustrated her by turns, a man who’d been completely up-front about his lack of interest in her—and who believed she wasn’t interested in him.

  She wished it were true. She wished she could approach this whole deal as coolly and impersonally as he did, with no emotion involved.

  If she hadn’t caught a glimpse of the warmth and vulnerability behind his armor, maybe she could.

  But it was too late for that.

  Chapter Four

  A few hours later Allison stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear.

  She’d been at Rachel’s a few weeks ago when her friend was getting ready for a date. Rachel had ended up with outfits strewn all over her bedroom before she’d finally picked one. Then she’d applied her makeup with more than her usual care, spent twenty minutes making her golden hair look like she hadn’t done a thing to it, and spritzed on the barest hint of a spicy perfume.

  She’d been struck by the look on Rachel’s face during this flurry of activity. Her excitement and anticipation had built until she announced she was ready, her eyes sparkling as she gave herself one last look in the mirror.

  Remembering that eve
ning now, Allison felt a twinge of jealousy. Not over Rachel’s date, whose face she couldn’t even recall, but over her uncomplicated pleasure in the dating process itself. While she hadn’t been out with a man in over a year, she’d been single for much longer than that.

  Ten years. It had been ten years since the night she’d broken up with Paul.

  The night she’d lied about to everyone, including her own family.

  A horseback riding accident—that’s what she told them. How could she tell them the truth? That her boyfriend had beaten her so badly she’d spent the night in the hospital with a fractured collarbone, a broken wrist and two broken ribs?

  Megan was in the cancer ward upstairs. Allison had told her parents to go back there, that she was fine, that she needed to sleep. She didn’t think she’d fooled the social worker who’d paid her a visit, but she was eighteen and there wasn’t much the woman could do without her cooperation.

  She’d been so sure it was the right thing to do. Megan was dying, and it took every bit of her parents’ strength and courage just to keep from falling apart. She couldn’t add to the burden they were already carrying.

  That was her reason in the beginning. But after a while, the secret became a part of her. Her wounds had closed over, and she saw no point in reopening them. She didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her or see her as a victim, and she didn’t want to see herself that way, either.

  But keeping silent had carried a price. She’d found that out a few years later, when she decided she was ready to start dating again. The guy who’d asked her out was nice enough, but she’d felt so tense and skittish when she was out with him that she’d never returned his calls after that first night.

  The same thing happened a year or so later, and a year or so after that.

  Finally she’d sworn off dating for good. Not just because of her own baggage, but so she could focus on her work.

  Her work was her passion. Why should she waste her time looking for romance? What had that empty dream ever gotten her? She’d believed she was in love with Paul, and she’d wasted time and energy and emotion on him when she hadn’t had any to spare. Every minute she’d spent with him was time she hadn’t spent with Megan—time she’d never get back.

  She watched her friends fall in and out of love, and even in and out of marriages, and she didn’t want that for herself. Once in a while a man caught her eye, but the flare of attraction was never strong enough to make her risk her heart. She didn’t want to waste time on something that wasn’t real. Her family was real, and her work was real, and that was enough.

  That’s what she told herself, anyway. Just like she told herself she could reverse her no-dating policy anytime she wanted to. Anytime she felt ready.

  And now, here she was—not ready at all. Not the slightest bit ready. But she was going on this date anyway, because she’d made a deal to keep her foundation alive, and she couldn’t back out of it now.

  Even though that deal would put her at a candlelit table with Rick Hunter in less than an hour.

  It wasn’t real, she reminded herself. And in case she was in any danger of forgetting that, all she had to do was open that issue of People and look at the photos of all the women Rick had been linked with over the years—the women he’d actually been attracted to.

  She ran both hands through her hair. Even if she weren’t carrying around old baggage she’d never be rid of, how could this night be anything but awkward? She was attracted to Rick—along with every woman who’d ever seen him—but he was only going out with her because he wanted something from his grandmother, and because she was the means to an end.

  Not exactly the recipe for a magical evening.

  She shook her head sharply. At least she could stop wondering what to wear tonight, like some starry-eyed teenager getting ready for a school dance. For one thing, she wasn’t capable of feeling like that anymore—if she ever had been. And for another, Rick had made it clear he wasn’t attracted to her, that she was perfect for this arrangement because he wasn’t attracted to her.

  So, fine. She knew she wasn’t anything like the women he usually dated, and she certainly wasn’t planning to compete with them. So what did it matter what she wore?

  She’d treat tonight like a dinner with a hospital executive or prospective donor. She reached toward the “business formal” end of her closet and grabbed something at random.

  “Am I early?” Rick asked when she buzzed him up to her apartment. He stood in her doorway looking ridiculously handsome, and her stomach did a little flip.

  She didn’t know much about men’s clothes, but she knew the suit Rick wore must have been tailored for his broad shoulders, and that the gunmetal gray jacket, crisp white shirt and emerald paisley tie were perfectly chosen to set off his coal black hair and intense green eyes.

  His jaw was smooth, with no shadow of stubble. She also caught a hint of aftershave—something subtle and expensive, like cedar wood and mountain air.

  He was so debonair, so flawless, so confident. She’d seen another side of him at the hospital today, but that hint of vulnerability was gone now. She doubted she’d get a glimpse behind the armor tonight.

  Not that it mattered. She wasn’t going to fall at his feet. He might be the best-looking man who had ever or would ever stand in her doorway, but she wasn’t an idiot, and she had her pride.

  “No, you’re not early.”

  He glanced down at her dark slacks, high-necked blouse, and plain tailored suit jacket. “It looks like you just came back from a meeting. If you still need to change I could—”

  “This is what I’m wearing,” she said firmly.

  She felt perversely glad that she hadn’t tried to dress the way most women would for a night out, especially with a man like Rick Hunter. She might be pretending to date him, but she didn’t have to pretend to be someone she wasn’t.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” she added.

  Her words and her tone were a little belligerent, but he just shook his head. “Not at all.” He held out a bouquet of flowers she hadn’t even noticed he was carrying. “For you.”

  “What are those for?” she asked suspiciously.

  He raised an eyebrow, and she realized how ungracious her words were a second after they came out of her mouth.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just…no one’s here to see, and we’re only dating for show.”

  She reached out to accept the bouquet, and her fingers brushed against his. It was only the briefest contact, but she felt a sudden rush of vertigo, as though she were looking over the edge of a cliff.

  “These aren’t for our date,” he said. “They’re to thank you for today. Like I said, I really enjoyed meeting Julie—and I would have missed out on that experience if you weren’t such a tough negotiator.”

  He smiled at her, and she felt that dizzying rush again.

  “Well…thanks. I’ll go put these in water.” She took a step or two toward the kitchen before she paused and looked back at the man still standing in her doorway. “Would you like to come in for a minute?” she asked belatedly.

  “Sure,” he said, stepping across the threshold into her small apartment.

  He made it seem even smaller. “I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing quickly into the kitchen.

  She took a deep breath before taking a vase out of a cupboard and setting it under the faucet to fill.

  There was no reason to feel so tense. She’d been comfortable enough with Rick at the hospital today. She just had to think of him as a business associate—which, in fact, he was. She snipped the ends off the stems and arranged the flowers in water.

  She carried the vase into the living room and set it on the coffee table. Rick was over by her DVD shelves, looking at the titles.

  “You like old movies.”

  She nodded. “I love them. I host a classic movie night once a month, for a group of friends.”

  “You’ve got a great collection,” he sa
id, crossing the room toward her. “And I like the way you’ve decorated. Your apartment feels like you…warm and personal.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ve been here almost five years, so I’ve had plenty of time to settle in.”

  She took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t be so hard after all.

  Then he came up to her and offered his arm. “Shall we?”

  And just like that, her palms were sweating.

  It would help if he wasn’t so blatantly masculine. He made her feel all feminine and fluttery—and she didn’t do fluttery. She really, really didn’t.

  “Allison? Are you ready to go?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly. “Sorry.” She rubbed her hand on her pants before placing it in the crook of his arm. “I told you I haven’t done this in a while, right?”

  “You did. How long is a while?”

  He led her to the door, and she snagged her purse on the way. “It’s been almost ten years since I was in a relationship.”

  He stared at her. “How long since you were on a date?” he asked as she pulled the door closed behind them. She’d used that opportunity to drop his arm, but now he put a hand on her lower back to guide her toward the elevator.

  Such a casual gesture, for him—but his touch felt like an electric shock. Sensation flooded through her, lingering in odd corners of her body…the insides of her elbows and the beds of her fingernails and the soles of her feet.

  “More than a year,” she said after a moment, praying her voice sounded normal.