The Billionaire's New Year Gift. Emma Darcy

the scent of talcum and gave Carmelita a hug.

      “Everyone’s back in the solarium,” Carmelita said. “You go on and join them. I’ll have Marianne bring you some lemonade.”

      P.J. headed for the dome-topped, semicircular room that overlooked Puget Sound. As she approached the solarium, she heard the cheerful noises of her rapidly expanding family.

      “Paige!” her mother exclaimed as P.J. walked into the room. Getting up, Helena Kincaid held out her arms. Hugging her mother was vastly different from hugging cushiony Carmelita. Helena, like most women in her social class, was reed-thin and smelled of the most expensive beauty products on the market. Although dressed casually, there was no mistaking the designer slacks in a soft fawn wool or the meticulously crafted cream silk blouse as anything but the best money could buy.

      “Darling, it’s so good to see you,” her mother said, releasing her and holding her at arm’s length. “I do wish you’d buy yourself some decent clothes, though.” She eyed P.J.’s denim skirt and white T-shirt with distaste.

      P.J. had learned to ignore her mother’s critiques. “Well, you look lovely, Mom,” was all she said. Then she turned to greet the rest of her family.

      Jillian, younger by three years, grinned at her. The grin said she was glad P.J. was the object of their mother’s scrutiny instead of her. As they hugged, she murmured, “She’s in rare form today.”

      “Thanks for the warning.”

      After that, P.J. got hugs in quick succession from Matt, Jillian’s husband; Courtney and Brad; her father; Peter and his wife, Allison; and then all the nieces and nephews she could corral.

      “So what’s new, Paige?” Allison asked after the men had wandered off to the den to watch the Mariners game.

      “Same old, same old,” P.J. said. “Thanks, Marianne,” she said to the maid, who had brought her a tall glass of the homemade lemonade she was famous for.

      “Any new men in your life?” Allison continued. Her dark eyes were filled with lively curiosity.

      P.J. gave her sister-in-law a dark look. Why was it that one of the first questions out of everyone’s mouth had to do with men?

      Allison laughed. “I take it that’s a no.”

      P.J. shrugged. “Take it any way you like.”

      Allison raised her eyebrows. “Hear that, Courtney? Jillian? Sounds like maybe there is a new man on the horizon.”

      P.J. tried not to think about Alex but she couldn’t help it. And thinking about him made her blush. Oh, God, she’d give anything not to have the pale skin of a redhead. Skin that showed every single emotion.

      “Tell us everything,” Jillian said excitedly.

      Hell and damnation. I don’t need this.

      P.J. made a face. “There is no new man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

      “Well, something made you blush,” Jillian said.

      “Are you dating someone, Paige?” her mother said.

      “No, mother, I’m not.”

      “You know, Paige, you aren’t getting any younger.”

      P.J.’s eyes met Courtney’s. Courtney’s eyes sparkled, and it was obvious she was trying hard not to laugh.

      “Mom, please…”

      “Well, it’s true,” Helena said. “And there’s absolutely no reason for you to still be single. Why, even Liliana Fox is engaged, and no one thought she’d ever find a man. You’re just too picky, that’s all. When I think about Douglas…” Her voice trailed off in despair.

      Douglas Sloane Bryant was the son of P.J.’s parents’ oldest friends, Liz and Oliver Bryant, and at one time, he and P.J. had dated. This was before P.J.’s medical problems, before she knew she could probably never have any children of her own. Of course, her mother still didn’t know it, and if P.J. had her way, she never would. That’s all she needed—unsolicited medical advice from her mother. In fact, the only person in her family who did know was Courtney, and that’s how P.J. wanted to keep it.

      At the time P.J. had dated Douglas, if she’d given him any encouragement at all, he would probably have produced the obligatory diamond ring, but even though she’d liked him as a friend, there was absolutely no passion between them and no sense pretending otherwise.

      Plus he worked in his father’s business. As the Chief Financial Officer. And he was totally into status. He and his wife—he’d married last year—had built a six-thousand-square-foot home on Bainbridge Island. Now who needed six thousand square feet?

      “And how you expect to meet anyone suitable working in the kind of place you do,” her mother droned on, “is beyond me. If you’d only stop being so stubborn and—”

      “I told you, Mom,” P.J. interrupted. “I have no interest in meeting someone suitable…or in getting married. And I’m tired of people harassing me.”

      Her mother sniffed. “As your mother, I feel I have a perfect right to—”

      “No, Mom,” P.J. interrupted again, “you don’t have a right to continually berate me about getting married. I have a right to make my own choices.”

      “Yes, well, if your choices were sensible…”

      P.J. sighed. What was the use? Her mother would never change. “Tell you what, Mom. If I meet someone suitable, you’ll be the first to know. Okay? And in the meantime, let’s just drop the subject. Otherwise, I’m going to just leave Dad’s gift here and take off.” So saying, she got to her feet.

      “Oh, Paige, sit down,” her mother said. She sighed dramatically. “Fine. I won’t say another word.” She made a motion as if she was turning a key to lock her mouth. “Happy now?”

      P.J. grinned. “That’s two words, Mom.”

      Their laughter broke the tension, and for the remainder of the afternoon, no more was said about P.J. or her personal life.

       Chapter Six

      Monday turned out to be Alex’s busiest day at the HuntCom Distribution Center since he’d begun the job. There was barely time to breathe, let alone take a break. And lunch consisted of a sandwich gobbled in ten minutes. He was in the middle of filling a large order for an office supply store in Portland when his cell phone vibrated.

      “Dammit,” he muttered. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was J.T. He almost let the call go to voice mail, then decided it must be important because J.T. rarely called him.

      Alex pressed the talk button. “Hang on.” Moving away from the noise of a nearby forklift, he said, “There must be a problem if you’re calling me at work.”

      “‘Work’ is eighty miles north of here,” J.T. said. “What you’re doing is…what are you doing, anyway?”

      Alex laughed. “Filling orders.”

      “Right. Look, there’s no problem. I just need to talk to you. I’m over at the expansion site.”

      “You’re in Jansen?”

      “Yes. I just finished a site inspection with the construction foreman. Which warehouse are you in?”

      Alex lowered his voice. “Don’t come over here. If somebody recognizes you, they might recognize me. I get off at four. Meet me at my place at four-thirty.”

      “Where’s that?”

      Alex gave J.T. directions. “Don’t be surprised by