The Millionaire's Wish Page 9

  They paused in front of a painting by John Singer Sargent, a portrait of his great-great-grandmother that had been commissioned after her marriage to Cyrus Hunter. Gran was talking about the family connection to the artist while Allison studied the painting with her hands in her pockets, nodding every so often as she listened.

  He was standing behind them, but he wasn’t listening to the lecture and he wasn’t looking at the portrait. His eyes were on Allison, on the nape of her neck, and he drifted closer without realizing it, breathing in her fresh, sweet fragrance, like soap and shampoo and sunlight.

  Close enough to touch her.

  He wished he had the right to do that. He longed to run the tips of his fingers lightly over her bare skin, to feel her shiver in response.

  He took a deep breath and tried to get a grip on himself.

  I want her.

  It had been building up all week, a week of not seeing her but thinking about her, looking at those pictures in the Gazette and reading her book, full of love and grief and anger and hope and all the raw, naked emotions he’d packed away so long ago.

  And then he got to her apartment and saw the shimmer of lip gloss on that perfect mouth, and thought for a second that she felt attracted to him, and had highlighted those already tempting lips in a feminine effort to appeal to a man. To appeal to him. And in that same instant, he’d realized how much he wanted it to be true.

  Because he wanted her. He wanted her with an intensity that had almost overwhelmed him as he stood there on the sidewalk, staring at that sweet, soft, tantalizing mouth, wanting to kiss her so badly his own mouth had gone dry. Then she’d said something, he wasn’t sure what, and when he’d met her eyes she’d looked like a deer in the headlights, terrified he was going to act on the desire she must have read in his face.

  He knew what an invitation to a kiss looked like, and it sure as hell wasn’t that. And so he’d controlled himself, and pulled back, and her obvious relief was further proof she didn’t feel the same way. That however much he might want to believe it, she hadn’t put on lip gloss today because of him.

  And that was okay, he told himself. If he was desperate for a kiss there were plenty of women out there who’d give him one. He and Allison had a business arrangement with clear boundaries and a clear goal. And unlike a relationship, Hunter Hall could be counted on to last forever.

  He was telling himself all these things as he stared at her, his hands itching with the need to touch her, when his grandmother must have finished her lecture on Sargent. Allison took a step back and bumped right into him, and he put his hands on her shoulders without thinking, to steady her.

  “Sorry,” she apologized, twisting her head around to look up at him. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

  “No problem,” he said, his voice sounding a little harsh in his own ears. He cleared his throat, but instead of releasing her, his hands tightened.

  “Well,” his grandmother said, “that concludes our tour.” She was beaming at them, and Allison probably noticed, because instead of jerking out of his grasp she pulled away gently.

  Lesson learned, he thought, his hands still tingling from the brief contact. He’d better not touch her like that again, because there was a good chance he might not let go.

  Now his grandmother led the two of them down the main staircase and into the sun-drenched south parlor.

  “I brought out some old photo albums I thought you might enjoy,” she said to Allison, waving her over to the cream-colored sofa by the French windows. Allison went, and Rick followed, shooting daggers at his grandmother when she met his eyes.

  “Don’t give me that look,” she said. “There’s no harm in letting Allison see what a cute little boy you were. You can look through these while I tell Meredith we’re ready for tea.”

  She went briskly out of the room again as Allison sat down. Rick sighed in resignation and sat down beside her, noticing how the late afternoon sunlight picked out the gold strands in her hair.

  “I can’t believe she dragged those out,” he muttered as Allison lifted up one of the albums from the coffee table.

  Allison grinned at him. “She doesn’t do this every time you bring a woman over?”

  “I try to avoid bringing women here. And when I do, my grandmother doesn’t like them. That’s how we ended up in this situation, remember?”

  “Hmm. So, are you going to look at these pictures with me?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Coward,” she said, her blue eyes laughing at him.

  “Have I mentioned lately how annoying you are?”

  “Yes,” she said, settling back against the armrest and opening the album. She held it so he couldn’t see what she was looking at. “Oh, that’s adorable,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching. “That’s the cutest expression I’ve ever seen on a naked three-year-old.”

  He tried to swipe the book away from her, but she snatched it out of his reach.

  “Ooh, here’s one in the bathtub. Your butt is even cuter in this one.”

  “So help me, Allison—”

  She grinned at him over the top of the album. “Why don’t you look at them with me? I promise we’ll skip right over the naked ones.”

  “No.”

  “Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”

  When her eyes glinted with mischief like that, she was just about irresistible. “Fine. I’ll do it if you’ll reciprocate.”

  “Reciprocate? How could I do that?”

  “By letting me see your childhood pictures. Preferably at your family home, with at least one relative telling me what an adorable little girl you were.”

  “You’re actually volunteering to meet my family?”

  “As long as I get to look at your photo albums.”

  She shook her head at him. “There aren’t any albums of just me. You’ll have to sit through pages and pages of group shots, and pictures of Megan, my brother Jake and my sister Jenna, not to mention aunts and uncles and cousins. You’ll beg me to let you off after five minutes.”

  He grinned. “Twenty bucks says I last longer than you do.”

  “It’s a bet,” she said, scooting over next to him. They weren’t quite touching, but she laid the photo album down so one side rested on her leg and one side on his.

  He was distracted by how close she was until he saw the pictures. “I hoped you were kidding about the bathtub shot. Grandmothers have no shame.”

  “Did she take all these?”

  “Most of them. I came to visit a few times a year, and my grandmother always went crazy with the camera.”

  “I like her,” Allison said thoughtfully.

  “She likes you, too.”

  “I expected her to be…colder. After all, she did threaten to leave your family home to someone else, just because she doesn’t like the women you date. That seems awfully judgmental to me.”

  Rick shrugged. “Yeah, she can be judgmental sometimes. But I’ll always love Gran. Three times in my life she’s taken me in, no questions asked.”

  “What times?” Allison asked.

  He glanced down at her. “What do you mean?”

  “What times in your life did she take you in?”

  He hesitated. “The first was when I was ten,” he said after a moment. “My father had taken off, and my mother and I needed a place to stay while she got on her feet.”

  “Evie’s your maternal grandmother? You have the same last name, so I assumed—”

  “My mom went back to her maiden name after we came here, and I changed my name, too.”

  He remembered the day he’d put his father’s name behind him forever. He also remembered living here, that first year. It had been like paradise. The first time in his life he’d ever felt safe. The first time he hadn’t lain awake at night worrying about his mom, wondering when he’d be big enough and strong enough to protect her.

  He shrugged away the memory. “The second time was when my mother got sick. I was sixteen, and
I lived here while she was in the hospital. She died when I was seventeen, and I stayed here until I went away to college. The third time was after I came back from Afghanistan, before I settled in Des Moines and started Hunter Systems.”

  He glanced down at Allison again. She was looking at him with the quiet, thoughtful expression he remembered from the day at the hospital.

  “Was it hard on you when your father left?” she asked.

  “No,” he said.

  There was a foul taste in his mouth…the bitter flavor he associated with thoughts of his father. He wished the topic hadn’t come up.

  “Have you seen him since?”

  “No.”

  On the other hand, maybe it was good to have a reminder of why he wasn’t cut out for a real relationship. With his father’s poison inside him, he didn’t have any business getting serious with a woman.

  Especially a woman like Allison.

  He took a deep breath and looked away from her. There was silence between them for a moment, and Rick wasn’t sure how to fill it.

  “You two haven’t gotten very far in that book yet.”

  He turned his head and saw his grandmother coming toward them with Meredith just behind her, carrying the Georgian tea tray.

  “Allison, this is my grandmother’s housekeeper, Meredith Bowen.”

  Meredith smiled at them both as she arranged the tea things with swift efficiency and drew up a chair for Gran.

  His grandmother lifted the teapot and poured the amber liquid into three delicate china cups. “I hope you enjoy China black, Allison. Milk or sugar? Both? A girl after my own heart. Please help yourself to sandwiches and the miniature scones. We have Devonshire cream for those. And now you must tell me what you think of Hunter Hall.”

  “I think it’s wonderful. I can see why Rick loves this place so much.”

  Gran smiled at her grandson. “I was always so happy whenever Richard came to stay. A house doesn’t feel like a home without children. Speaking of children—” Oh, no.

  “What would you do if you lived in a place like Hunter Hall? Would you have a big family?”

  “If I had a house like this?” Allison’s eyes lit up, and Rick wondered what she was envisioning. He was pretty sure it wasn’t giving birth to his children.

  “If I had a house like this, I’d fill it with kids. Not my own, though,” she added.

  His grandmother looked startled.

  “It’s a dream of mine to open a retreat center for families dealing with childhood cancer,” she explained.

  “A retreat center?” his grandmother asked.

  Allison nodded. “It’s something I’ve thought about for years. A place that would provide services, and also create a sense of community for families. It’s easy to feel isolated when you’re struggling with cancer, because it’s hard to explain what you’re going through to people who’ve never dealt with it, and because hospital stays and treatment schedules don’t leave you much free time. Megan’s House would be a refuge. A place to go where everyone understands, because they’re going through the same thing.”

  His grandmother looked interested. “What sort of services would you provide?”

  Allison took a quick sip of tea and set her cup down again. “Families who live far away from Des Moines or other major hospitals could stay at the center while their children are in treatment, so they don’t have to go to a hotel. There’d be day programs, too. Music and crafts and games for the kids. Therapy and counseling for the entire family. Massage and spa days for the moms…the dads too, if they need it. Parents forget to take care of themselves when their children are sick.”

  Her face was illuminated. “And there should be gardens. I grew up on a farm, and there’s a kind of magic in being around growing things. Planting seeds and seeing them sprout, eating tomatoes right off the vine… I’d love for kids to be able to have gardens of their own, and lots of outdoor play spaces, too. Tree houses and clubhouses and—”

  She stopped suddenly, blushing. “And that was me taking over the conversation to talk about myself. Wow. Sorry about that.”

  “You weren’t talking about yourself,” his grandmother said. “You were talking about a dream—something you want to build someday.”

  She lifted the teapot carefully, one hand on the underside of the spout. Her eyes followed the flow of liquid as she refilled her cup. “I lost my daughter to cancer,” she said.

  Rick stared at her. He couldn’t remember his grandmother ever mentioning his mother’s death to someone outside the family.

  “I know,” Allison said softly. “Rick told me.”

  Gran looked up, and he could tell she was just as surprised as he had been.

  “He did?”

  Allison nodded. “I lost my sister Megan. She was fourteen when she died.”

  “Megan,” his grandmother repeated. “Your center would be named after her?”

  “Yes. Megan was full of life, and Megan’s House would be, too. The way I imagine it, anyway,” she added with a smile.

  His grandmother sipped tea. “It’s a wonderful dream, Allison. And I think you have the vision and persistence to achieve it. Now I understand why my friend Shirley Donovan speaks so highly of you. I must admit, I don’t think I could bear to do what you do. Getting close to children when you know they won’t all survive.”

  “That part is hard,” Allison agreed. “My work isn’t all gloom and sadness, though. I get to see strength and resilience and triumph, too. I consider myself lucky.” She paused. “But that’s enough serious conversation for one afternoon.” She looked sideways at him. “I think we should change the subject to Rick’s butt.”

  His grandmother’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

  Allison opened the photo album and handed it to her.

  “Two naked pictures on the first page,” Rick put in, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I love you, Gran.”

  His grandmother was looking down at the album and trying, unsuccessfully, not to smile. “I’m sorry, Richard. I’d honestly forgotten these were in here. But you were an adorable little boy,” she added.

  “He was,” Allison agreed, smiling at her.

  They finished their tea with Evie quizzing Allison about her childhood. She asked about growing up on a farm, and Rick settled back against the sofa cushions to indulge in what was becoming a favorite pastime—watching Allison talk. When she was enthusiastic about something, her whole face lit up. Her hands sketched vivid gestures in the air. Her eyes sparkled, she leaned forward and she seemed to radiate energy.

  “What is it?” she asked suddenly, looking at him. She’d just finished describing a typical day on the farm during planting season.

  “I like watching you talk,” he said honestly.

  Allison blushed, and Rick felt Evie’s eyes on both of them.

  He cleared his throat. “We should probably think about heading out soon. Allison and I both have to work in the morning.”

  “Of course. I understand.” His grandmother glanced at Allison. “I know it’s early days, but—” Oh, no.

  “If you’d like, I can give you some pictures of Rick to take home with you. I have copies of all his childhood photos.”

  It could have been worse. With an opening like it’s early days, but, she could have launched right into wedding plans.

  “I’d love that,” Allison said with a smile.

  “Wonderful. I’ll go and get them right now.”

  After she left Allison grinned at him. “Do you think I’ll get copies of the naked ones?”

  “Not if she values her life.”

  Allison laughed and picked up the album from the coffee table, laying it on her lap and starting to turn pages again.

  He loved the way her short hair left her neck bare and exposed her delicate, shell-like ear. He imagined running the tip of his finger over the curve of that ear, and along the graceful line of her jaw, and over her lips.

  His imagination had put his hands at her waist,
sliding up under her sweater, before Allison spoke again.

  “I thought your mom didn’t get sick until you were sixteen?”

  He frowned, surprised at the question.

  She turned the album so he could see it, and pointed to the picture that had caught her attention.

  He shifted closer to look, and went still. He sensed rather than saw Allison watching him.

  He remembered that picture of him and his mom. Gran had taken it the first day they’d come here to live.

  “You both look so…tired,” Allison said after a moment, as if searching for the right word.

  That was one way to put it.

  “Yeah,” he said. He took in a deep breath and let it out again. “She wasn’t sick yet, though. That picture…” he hesitated. “That’s from when we came to live here, the first time.”

  There was compassion in her eyes. “After your father left?”

  He nodded, watching her.

  “Moving to a brand-new place, going to a new school…you must have been lonely.”

  He felt himself relax. The question she’d asked wasn’t the one he had feared. “Not really. I was already into computers, which kept me busy. I started doing sports, too, after we moved here. And this house was like a paradise to me. So many places for a kid to explore. So fun, so safe—”

  He stopped.

  “Safe?” Allison asked after a moment. But then his grandmother came back into the room, saving him from having to answer.

  “Here you go, my dear,” Evie said with a smile, handing Allison a manila envelope that looked to be well stuffed with photos.

  “Thank you so much. And thank you for that wonderful tea, and the tour. I had a lovely time.”

  “I had a lovely time, too. I do hope you’ll come again.”

  “I’d like that,” Allison said, smiling as she stood up. “Would you mind if I visit the powder room before I go?”

  “Of course not. It’s just through that doorway, down the hall on your left.”

  As soon as Allison was out of sight Gran turned on him.

  “For all your faults, I never thought you were stupid.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  She was scowling at him. “A girl like Allison doesn’t come along every day. I was so thrilled when I heard about the two of you… Shirley said the nicest things about her. She’s a lovely girl, and it’s obvious that you like her.”