Emma Darcy - The Billionaire's New Year Gift

“Yes,” he said. “Thank you for joining me.” He motioned to their waiter.

“Are you finished?” the waiter said.

“I think so, unless the lady wants dessert?”

P.J. shook her head. “No, just the check.”

The waiter said he’d be right back.

“I don’t want an argument over the check,” she said. “I’m paying for my share.”

“No, you’re not,” Alex said. “I invited you to join me, it’s my treat.”

“Look, Alex—”

“I insist,” Alex said.

P.J. argued a few more seconds, then finally relented.

The waiter returned, laying a leather folder by Alex. Alex reached back and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Opening it, he automatically reached for his platinum American Express card, but at the last second, he remembered that he wasn’t Alex Hunt tonight, he was Alex Noble, and he took out his new Visa card instead. Close call, he thought, as he slipped the card into the leather folder.

When he looked up, P.J. was watching him. Damn. Had she seen that card? If she’d been looking at his wallet when he’d opened it, she probably had. Worse, she would have seen that he had several platinum cards. What would she make of that information?

I’m going to have to remember to be more careful. She’s way too observant .

The waiter came by again and picked up the folder. P.J. excused herself to go to the ladies’ room and was gone when the waiter returned. Alex took care of filling in the tip and signing the charge slip, then went to the front of the restaurant to wait for her.

When they walked outside, the sun had set and there was now a decided chill in the air.

“Summer fades fast in this neck of the woods,” Alex said.

“Yes,” P.J. agreed. She stopped next to a little blue Miata. “Thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it.”

Alex smiled. “My pleasure.”

She opened the driver’s-side door. “See you Monday.”

He waited till she’d gotten into the car before walking to his truck. Would Cornelia like P.J.? Alex wondered. He thought she would. In fact, there were things about P.J. that reminded him of Cornelia. Not that they looked alike. Although Cornelia was a tall woman and so was P.J., that was the extent of their physical similarities. Cornelia was more delicately built and in her youth had had pale blond hair whereas P.J.’s coloring was more vivid. But both were strong-willed, intelligent and independent.

Yes. Cornelia would approve of P.J.

Alex smiled as he climbed into his truck. He had a feeling Georgie would, too, even though she still remained adamant that this whole bride hunt was ridiculous and had followed through on her promise to tell her mother exactly what she thought.

Not that Georgie’s objections had made any difference to either Cornelia or Alex.

He wasn’t a hundred-percent certain, but he was beginning to believe he might have found the woman he wanted.

P.J. pulled into the circular drive in front of the stately home where she’d grown up and cut the ignition. Reaching for the small gift bag that contained a couple of oldies CDs and the gift card for a dozen guitar lessons with the best instructor she could find in the Seattle area, she got out of the Miata and walked up to the massive oak front door and rang the bell.

“Miss Paige, you know you can just come on in,” Carmelita, the family’s long-time housekeeper said as she opened the door. “You’re family.” Leaning over, she kissed P.J.’s cheek.

P.J. inhaled the scent of talcum and gave Carmelita a hug.

“Everyone’s back in the solarium,” Carmelita said. “You go on and join them. I’ll have Marianne bring you some lemonade.”

P.J. headed for the dome-topped, semicircular room that overlooked Puget Sound. As she approached the solarium, she heard the cheerful noises of her rapidly expanding family.

“Paige!” her mother exclaimed as P.J. walked into the room. Getting up, Helena Kincaid held out her arms. Hugging her mother was vastly different from hugging cushiony Carmelita. Helena, like most women in her social class, was reed-thin and smelled of the most expensive beauty products on the market. Although dressed casually, there was no mistaking the designer slacks in a soft fawn wool or the meticulously crafted cream silk blouse as anything but the best money could buy.

“Darling, it’s so good to see you,” her mother said, releasing her and holding her at arm’s length. “I do wish you’d buy yourself some decent clothes, though.” She eyed P.J.’s denim skirt and white T-shirt with distaste.

P.J. had learned to ignore her mother’s critiques. “Well, you look lovely, Mom,” was all she said. Then she turned to greet the rest of her family.

Jillian, younger by three years, grinned at her. The grin said she was glad P.J. was the object of their mother’s scrutiny instead of her. As they hugged, she murmured, “She’s in rare form today.”

“Thanks for the warning.”

After that, P.J. got hugs in quick succession from Matt, Jillian’s husband; Courtney and Brad; her father; Peter and his wife, Allison; and then all the nieces and nephews she could corral.

“So what’s new, Paige?” Allison asked after the men had wandered off to the den to watch the Mariners game.

“Same old, same old,” P.J. said. “Thanks, Marianne,” she said to the maid, who had brought her a tall glass of the homemade lemonade she was famous for.

“Any new men in your life?” Allison continued. Her dark eyes were filled with lively curiosity.

P.J. gave her sister-in-law a dark look. Why was it that one of the first questions out of everyone’s mouth had to do with men?

Allison laughed. “I take it that’s a no.”

P.J. shrugged. “Take it any way you like.”

Allison raised her eyebrows. “Hear that, Courtney? Jillian? Sounds like maybe there is a new man on the horizon.”

P.J. tried not to think about Alex but she couldn’t help it. And thinking about him made her blush. Oh, God, she’d give anything not to have the pale skin of a redhead. Skin that showed every single emotion.

“Tell us everything,” Jillian said excitedly.

Hell and damnation. I don’t need this .

P.J. made a face. “There is no new man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, something made you blush,” Jillian said.

“ Are you dating someone, Paige?” her mother said.

“No, mother, I’m not.”

“You know, Paige, you aren’t getting any younger.”

P.J.’s eyes met Courtney’s. Courtney’s eyes sparkled, and it was obvious she was trying hard not to laugh.

“Mom, please…”

“Well, it’s true,” Helena said. “And there’s absolutely no reason for you to still be single. Why, even Liliana Fox is engaged, and no one thought she’d ever find a man. You’re just too picky, that’s all. When I think about Douglas…” Her voice trailed off in despair.

Douglas Sloane Bryant was the son of P.J.’s parents’ oldest friends, Liz and Oliver Bryant, and at one time, he and P.J. had dated. This was before P.J.’s medical problems, before she knew she could probably never have any children of her own. Of course, her mother still didn’t know it, and if P.J. had her way, she never would. That’s all she needed—unsolicited medical advice from her mother. In fact, the only person in her family who did know was Courtney, and that’s how P.J. wanted to keep it.

At the time P.J. had dated Douglas, if she’d given him any encouragement at all, he would probably have produced the obligatory diamond ring, but even though she’d liked him as a friend, there was absolutely no passion between them and no sense pretending otherwise.