Abigail Strom - The Millionaire's Wish

“I’ll do it.”

Rick blinked at her in surprise. “What?”

“I accept your proposal.”

“You do?”

“On one condition.”

“What if I say no?”

Allison shrugged. “You’ll have to find another woman of character who’s not attracted to you. It won’t be that hard. From where I sit, those two qualities seem to go together naturally.”

“I should have realized you were capable of driving a hard bargain. You don’t give up easily, do you?”

She took a quick breath. “So do we have a deal, or not?”

His eyes didn’t leave hers. “We have a deal.”

Dear Reader,

On the surface, Allison Landry and Rick Hunter don’t have much in common. She’s the director of a non-profit agency; he’s the millionaire CEO of a software company. Allison is passionate about helping others; Rick believes he’s too jaded to care about helping anyone. Allison avoids relationships and hasn’t been on a date in more than a year. Rick, on the other hand, has a well-earned reputation as a playboy.

But appearances can be deceiving. And underneath the surface, these two have a lot more in common than they realise.

When Rick makes Allison an offer she can’t refuse, the two of them enter into a dating bargain that’s supposed to be all business. The only thing that could derail their perfect plan is the one thing they could never have predicted: falling in love.

Rick and Allison have a special place in my heart, and I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

My very best wishes,

Abigail

ABIGAIL STROMstarted writing stories at the age of seven and has never been able to stop. She’s thrilled to be published by Mills & Boon. She works full-time as a human resources professional and lives in New England with her family, who are incredibly supportive of the hours she spends hunched over her computer. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at abigail@abigailstrom.com.

The

Millionaire’s

Wish

Abigail Strom

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my husband

Authors are often encouraged to write what they know.

Thanks to you, when I write about true love … I am

“How hard would it be to rob a bank?”

Allison Landry frowned at the financial statements covering her desk. One of her volunteers, who also was one of her best friends, had just come into the office with a letter in her hand.

“That bad, huh?” Rachel asked sympathetically. “Or maybe we could pull off a jewel heist.” “We could wear black leather catsuits,” Rachel suggested. “And hire a professional thief to help us. You know, like the guys in Ocean’s Eleven . Preferably a George Clooney look-alike. I’d also be willing to consider Brad Pitt.”

Allison’s mouth tipped up in a smile. “I’d go with Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief , but then I’m old-fashioned.”

Rachel laughed. “I’m liking this idea more and more.” She paused. “Okay, fill me in for real. What’s going on?”

Allison sighed, closing her eyes briefly as she ran both hands through her short brown hair. “It’s been a bad day. Kevin Buckley is in the hospital again—I heard from his parents this morning. And our financial outlook for the coming year is pretty grim. Donations have been down ever since the recession started, so we’re going to have to cut back on some of our existing services. And we’ll have to put the plans for Megan’s House on hold again—indefinitely, this time. It’ll be a struggle to keep some of our programs going at all, and it’s not the time to start something new.”

She felt the disappointment all over again as she spoke the reality out loud. For years she’d cherished the dream of building a retreat center for families dealing with childhood cancer. She’d hoped the dream was close to being realized, but the bleak financial picture in front of her said otherwise.

“It’ll happen someday,” she said now, half to Rachel and half to herself. She couldn’t let her determination be quenched. After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d had to face harsh realities. When you lost a sister to cancer—Megan had been just fourteen when she died—you also lost any illusion that life was fair.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel said, and Allison knew she really meant it. Still, her expression was more unhappy than the occasion warranted.

“Does the look on your face have something to do with that letter in your hand?”

Rachel nodded. “I hate to give you more bad news. It’s about Julie’s wish.”

Allison frowned. “But that’s the easiest one we’ve had in ages. She just wants to meet that software CEO—the man who designed that video game she likes so much. Rick Hunter, right? He lives right here in Des Moines. What’s the problem?”

Rachel shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “He turned us down.”

Allison just stared at her. “That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t even have to get on a plane. His company owns that big office building on Grand. He could walk to the hospital, for goodness’ sake.”

“He could, but he won’t. He sent us a donation instead.”

A donation. Of course.

Not that the money wasn’t welcome. As her financial statements clearly showed, they needed every donation they could get.

But she was willing to bet this wasn’t the first time Rick Hunter, president and CEO of Hunter Systems, had pulled out his checkbook instead of volunteering his time.

And now he was trying to buy his way out of visiting a cancer patient.

“Let me see that,” Allison said, and Rachel handed it to her.

“Must regretfully decline your request … busy professional … demands on my time …”

She crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it toward the wastebasket. She missed by two feet. “Busy professional, he says. Can you believe that? We got the quarterback of the Green Bay Packers to visit one of our kids last year, and that was during football season!”

It had been a lousy day, and even though only part of her current frustration was really directed at Rick Hunter, he was her most convenient target at the moment.

Extremely convenient, in fact. As in a five minute drive from her office.

She shoved her chair back and rose to her feet.

“You look really pissed off,” Rachel said warily. “You’re not going to do anything crazy, are you?”

“That depends on your definition of crazy. I’m just going to have a little chat with—”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “You’re going to yell at him. You’re going to yell at Rick Hunter. Allison, you can’t do that!”

“I can’t, huh? Give me one good reason,” Allison said, turning off her computer and grabbing her purse.

Rachel was at her own desk now, rifling through file folders and stacks of papers. “He’s rich, for one thing. Like potential platinum donor rich. He designed the most popular video game in the world. He’s important.”

“Julie’s important, too.”

“Of course she is. I just think—got it!” she announced suddenly, holding up an issue of People magazine.

“What’s so exciting about that?”

Rachel opened the magazine to a two-page profile—picture on the left and a short biography on the right.

“America’s Most Eligible Bachelors,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“I take it Rick Hunter made the list.”

“I’ll say. Allison, just look at him. You’ll have to agree there are better things to do with this man than yell at him.”

Allison rolled her eyes, but when Rachel brought the picture over she glanced at it to satisfy her.