The Millionaire's Wish. Abigail Strom

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 prayed 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