Abigail Strom - The Millionaire's Wish

Rick Hunter was on an unmade bed, leaning back on his elbows with a slight smile on his face, as if he found the person holding the camera mildly amusing. He was wearing a tuxedo, jacket off and tie loosened. That, along with the stubble on his jaw and the artfully tousled black hair, gave him an air of casual decadence, as if he’d recently enjoyed a very good time in that bed.

His eyes weren’t as casual as the rest of him. They were green, and the expression in them was reserved, even remote, but with a kind of intensity in their depths that probably had most women ready to fall at his feet.

In spite of herself, she found herself looking into those eyes a shade longer than she meant to. When she realized it, she took the magazine from Rachel’s outstretched hand and tossed it back onto her desk.

“I admit he’s decorative,” she said. “So what? I hope you’re not saying I should be nice to Rick Hunter because you think he’s cute.”

“Puppies are cute. Kittens are cute. This man is gorgeous. I’m talking drop-dead, stop-the-presses, melt-your-knees gorgeous.”

“You forgot to mention spoiled, selfish, arrogant—”

“I don’t think he’s like that,” Rachel objected. “Did you look at the article? He—”

“I’m not interested,” Allison said firmly. “He turned down a kid with cancer. There’s no possible excuse for that, and I’m going to tell him so.”

Rachel grabbed her hand as she headed for the door. “You have to go home and change first.”

Allison glanced down at herself. She was wearing a typical outfit for a day when she had no meetings with hospital directors or wealthy philanthropists—jeans and a blue flannel shirt. Her feet were clad in an old pair of tennis shoes.

“I’m not going all the way back to my apartment to change clothes. Why, do you think his office has a dress code?”

“Very funny.” Rachel grabbed her purse and started looking through it. “At least let me put some makeup on you. Lipstick, mascara, something. Your face is all naked!”

“Sorry,” Allison said firmly. “This is going to be a come-as-you-are meeting.”

Rachel put her purse back on her desk. “There isn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t primp before going to see Rick Hunter. You’re not normal, Allison.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“And yet, I still love you.” Rachel sighed. “Have fun storming the castle.”

Rick Hunter held the phone away from his ear as he typed one-handed, listening to his grandmother with half his attention while he focused on a complicated spreadsheet.

“—and it’s not that I’m prudish —I was a bit of a rebel in my time, I’ll have you know. Your grandfather could tell you stories. Well, he could if he were alive. But I do not appreciate half the people I know calling me to discuss this appalling magazine article, which refers to you as ‘The Playboy of the Midwest,’ I might add.”

Rick winced. He’d only done that damn photo shoot because of his company’s upcoming annual charity event, a ball at the Grand Hotel to be followed by a bachelor auction. He wasn’t participating—he never did, despite his undeniable bachelor status—but the magazine, along with his marketing director, had convinced him it would be great publicity for the event if the company president was in the article.

“I didn’t write the copy, Gran. And I told you before—”

She spoke right over him. “I wouldn’t be so upset if it didn’t confirm what I always suspected. You have no intention of ever settling down, have you?”

He was correcting a complicated cell formula and missed the question. “What?”

“I said, you have no intention of ever settling down. The women you involve yourself with! The fluffy, brainless ones are bad enough, but the ruthless corporate types are even worse. I actually look forward to the straightforward gold diggers you toss into the mix occasionally. Not one of the girls you’ve dated in the last five years has been someone I’d be proud to call my granddaughter. Not that I’ve had cause to worry, since you’ve never shown the slightest interest in committing to any of them.”

Rick sighed. “Okay, Gran, so you don’t like the women I date. But neither of us has to put up with them on a long-term basis, so what’s your problem?”

“My problem is that my only grandson is still a bachelor! You don’t think I dream of the day you’ll settle down here with your wife and children?”

Here meant the Hunter estate, of course. The beautiful old mansion his great-great-grandfather had built in 1890. Not the house Rick had grown up in, but the only place he’d ever thought of as home. The only place he’d ever truly been happy.

“The fact is,” she went on, “I’ve been thinking things over. And I’m considering giving Hunter Hall to your second cousin.”

Rick’s hand froze over the keyboard. “What?”

“You heard me. Jeremiah and his wife are planning to have children, and they’d like to raise their family here. They’ve said so.”

Rick’s jaw tightened. “If Jeremiah’s shown any interest, it’s because of what the house might be worth on the open market. He and his wife don’t give a damn about the place. They’ll sell it, Gran.”

She sniffed. “That’s not what they’ve told me. And even if they thought that at one time, things change once you decide to have a family.”

She paused, and Rick thought about what it would mean to lose Hunter Hall. Maybe he’d never told Gran, but he loved it more than any place on earth.

“This house cries out for children. If I thought there was a chance you might change your ways …”

His grandmother had been hoping to marry him off for years. He, on the other hand, had never been interested in marriage. His own parents hadn’t exactly been a shining example of the institution, and he had no intention of repeating their mistakes. Better to stay clear of all that and focus on things you could actually control. Like work.

Even if work hadn’t been very satisfying lately.

Rick leaned back in his chair, staring at his computer screen. If work was getting stale it was his own fault, and was therefore something he could fix. He owned the damn company, after all.

A marriage, on the other hand, wasn’t something one person could control. Two hearts, two minds, two egos—and way too much risk. Date for fun, that was his motto—and when the fun started to fade, end things quick and clean, before either party had too much invested. And yes, that meant that he tended to date women he wasn’t likely to fall for.

“I just want to see you happy, Richard.”

“I am happy.” Or content, anyway. He’d never expected happiness. His life was going according to plan, and he had no desire to make any changes. The only thing he wanted that he didn’t already have was Hunter Hall.

“Won’t you at least think about what I’ve said? It wouldn’t kill you to date a woman of character for once.”

Rick smiled at the old-fashioned phrase. “And what would a ‘woman of character’ want with me?” He’d meant it as a joke, but his voice sounded a little bitter in his own ears.

His grandmother sighed. “If you don’t know the answer already, it won’t do any good to tell you. I’m sorry about Hunter Hall, dear, but I need to believe that this house will echo with the voices of children someday.”

Rick looked at the opposite wall, where the original advertisement for “Magician’s Labyrinth” hung in a mahogany frame. He’d modeled the magician’s house after Hunter Hall, and the image had been part of the game’s cover art ever since.

“It’s your house, Gran. You can do whatever you want with it.”

“I just wish you’d consider—”