The Millionaire's Wish. Abigail Strom

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СКАЧАТЬ even wear makeup, he noted as she came to a halt in front of his desk, her eyes blazing and her cheeks flushed.

      Not that she needed it. She had perfect skin—so clear and smooth he found himself wondering if it could possibly feel as soft as it looked.

      Her eyes didn’t need any help, either. They were the color of—what was the name of that stone? Lapis lazuli? And fringed by eyelashes so thick they were like tiny black fans.

      Her mouth … her mouth was pretty good too. Wide and full and sweet, even with the corners turned down as she registered her obvious dislike of everything about him.

      She looked mad as hell. And the fact that he was a rich and powerful CEO was not going to stop her from telling him about it.

      Allison rode her wave of anger right into the executive office. And there was Rick Hunter, rising to his feet to meet her, every hair in place and with no hint of stubble along his jaw.

      He was all business, exuding the same power and sophistication as the mahogany and leather furniture that had probably set him back what Allison paid in office rent for a year. She couldn’t even imagine what the suit cost. She’d always thought that computer executives had a more casual look, but Rick Hunter obviously preferred formality.

      Probably because it kept people at a distance.

      “Mr. Hunter,” she began coldly. “I came here to—”

      He came around to the front of his desk, and she backed up a pace or two before she could stop herself. He was tall, about eight inches taller than her five foot six, and the difference made her feel at a disadvantage. “You’re from the Star Foundation?” he asked.

      “I’m the director. And I—”

      “The director?” He leaned back against his desk. “You look about eighteen.”

      “I’m twenty-seven,” she said in a voice like ice. “Want to see my driver’s license?”

      A corner of his mouth twitched. “That’s all right. I believe you.” He studied her for a moment, his green eyes appraising. “You’re here because I turned down that girl’s request. I suppose you think I owe you an apology.”

      Her spine stiffened. “You don’t owe me a damn thing, and I’m not interested in an apology. I’m only interested in knowing when you’re going to visit Julie. I know you’re a busy professional with demands on your time—” she didn’t even try to curb the sarcasm in her voice “—and that the request of a stranger doesn’t loom large on your to-do list. Especially when it would involve spending an entire hour devoted to something other than business or your own pleasure—”

      He raised his hands, palms out. “Slow down, Ms. Landry. I don’t—”

      “And I’m sure you’re not used to sacrificing 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—”

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