The Millionaire's Wish. Abigail Strom

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.

       Chapter Two

      On 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