The Billionaire's New Year Gift. Emma Darcy

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      Just then the waiter came with their food, and the sisters fell silent until he was gone again.

      Courtney began to cut up her salad. She speared a piece of shrimp and some lettuce leaves, but before putting them into her mouth, she said, “Maybe you should give this new guy at work a chance. Who knows? You might actually like him.”

      “Who said he’s interested in me?” P.J. poured a mound of ketchup next to her fries and dipped one in.

      Courtney gave her a look. “You’re a very pretty, very sexy woman. Of course he’ll be interested in you.” She forked another bite of salad into her mouth. Then she grinned. “That’s if you can keep your mouth shut.”

      P.J. glared at her sister. But she couldn’t hold the expression and was soon laughing. “Yeah, that can be a problem,” she admitted. She’d run more than one guy off by expressing her opinions, which were almost always diametrically opposed to theirs.

      “So tell me more about this guy,” Courtney said when their laughter subsided.

      “No point. I’m not interested in him. And even if I were, which I’m not, he works for me. I don’t date guys who work for me. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

      Courtney nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Conflict of interest or something.” She studied P.J. for a minute. “Are you sure it’s not the baby thing stopping you? Because if it is, lots of guys don’t want kids.”

      P.J. sighed. “I know that.” She wanted to add that any guy who didn’t want kids was probably not the kind of guy she’d want to be with, anyway, but she didn’t. Courtney would just feel bad if she said something like that.

      “Do you? Seems to me you throw up all kinds of excuses to keep men at a distance, and I can’t help thinking that’s the real reason.”

      P.J. shrugged. “It’s not. But I can’t help thinking about it. I mean, what if I start dating someone and really like them and they like me? Then I tell them I can’t have kids? Is that fair?”

      “Well, you can hardly tell them before you go out with them,” Courtney pointed out. She made a face. “It is a problem, isn’t it?”

      P.J. nodded, then made a face. “Let’s change the subject, okay? I’m awfully tired of this one. Tell me what Jillian and Peter are up to. I haven’t talked to either one in weeks.”

      “The phone works both ways, you know.”

      P.J. started to laugh. “If my eyes had been closed, I would have sworn that was Mom talking.”

      The expression on Courtney’s face was priceless. But then she joined P.J.’s laughter, and for the rest of evening, they kept their conversation lighthearted.

      Alex had just finished his dinner—a really excellent omelette—and before settling in with the new T. Jefferson Parker book he’d bought, he decided to check his messages on his home phone. He didn’t really expect there to be anything important, but he’d better check, anyway.

      The first two were invitations he wasn’t interested in accepting—he’d ask his secretary to send his regrets—the third was a hangup, and the fourth was from Georgie—short for Georgianna, the oldest of Cornelia’s four daughters.

      The message started with, “Hey, Alex, where the heck are you? I called your office but the call was routed to Marti and she said you’re taking a leave of absence? Holy cow, has hell frozen over? I’ve hardly ever known you to leave your precious foundation for a vacation, let alone a leave of absence. Call me! I need to talk to you. Smooches.”

      Alex chuckled. He loved Georgie. Too bad he felt toward her the way he felt toward Julie, because if not, she’d have made a perfect wife.

      Punching in the code for her cell, he waited for her to pick up. Instead he got her voice mail. “This is Georgie. Leave a message and I’ll call you back soonest.”

      At the beep, he said, “Hey, girl. It’s me, Alex. Call me if you get this message before eleven. After that I’ll be racking up Zs. Oh, and I’ve got a new cell.” He gave her the number, then said, “If you don’t get home early enough to call back tonight, wait till after four tomorrow, okay?” Not wanting to explain any further, he broke the connection.

      Her call back came a little after ten.

      “A leave of absence, a new cell, don’t call after eleven, don’t call during the day…what in the world is going on?” she said.

      “And hello to you, too,” Alex said, grinning. He laid his book on the coffee table, then got up and stretched.

      She laughed, the sound low and warm and contagious. “C’mon, quit stalling. Have you joined the CIA or something?”

      “Nothing that drastic.”

      “Well, where are you?”

      So Alex explained. When he was finished, there was silence for a long moment. Then she said, “I cannot believe this. I especially can’t believe my mother went along with it. I mean, Alex, this is the craziest scheme I’ve ever heard.”

      “Maybe not that crazy.”

      “What do you mean, not that crazy? This is the twenty-first century, not the eighteenth.” Her voice was indignant. “And giving you a time limit? It’s blackmail, that’s what it is.”

      “Yes, I guess it is, but—”

      “But nothing. I’m going to have a serious talk with Mother. I always knew she was blind as far as your father is concerned, but this is the limit.”

      Alex couldn’t help grinning at Georgie’s anger on his behalf. She was nothing if not loyal. “Calm down, okay? I admit, I was ticked off at first, but I’m actually okay with it now.” An image of P.J. and the way she’d looked in the park earlier flashed through his mind. “I think it might work out well.”

      “Wait a minute. Are you saying you’ve found somebody already?”

      He laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far. But there are some possibilities.”

      “So you’re saying you’re no longer free to meet me for lunch during the week?” Georgie worked for an ad agency in downtown Seattle, and they’d fallen into the habit of meeting for lunch at least once a week.

      “No, afraid not.”

      “How about dinner?”

      “Dinner I can do.”

      “How about tomorrow night?”

      “Where?”

      She named a restaurant they’d frequented in the past. Luckily it was on the Portland side of Seattle, so Alex wouldn’t have as much traffic to contend with.

      “It’ll have to be an early night, since I’ll have a long drive back,” he said.

      “How early?”

      “Seven?”

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