The Millionaire's Wish. Abigail Strom

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