The Millionaire's Wish (11 page)

Allison handed Rick her baseball cap and climbed the fence, balancing herself against the top rail as she ran a caressing hand along the animal's proud neck. He wore neither saddle nor bridle.

“Uh…Allison? Are you sure this is really a good—”

She wasn't listening to him as she threaded her fingers into the horse's mane, climbed to the top of the fence, and threw her leg over his back. She seemed to whisper something into his ear and the two of them were off across the field, the horse cantering and Allison laughing as she hung on with her hands and her knees.

Rick stared after them. They seemed to be in perfect harmony, the two of them alike somehow in their fearless, joyful grace. He'd never seen her like this—so exuberant, so confident in her physicality.

So sexy.

“She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,” he said under his breath, remembering the second the words were out of his mouth that he wasn't alone.

He glanced down at Jenna. “Is there any chance I didn't say that out loud?”

“Nope.” She was staring at him, wide-eyed. After a moment she grinned and pointed a finger at him. “You've got a crush on my little sister,” she said.

He thought about denying it, but who was he kidding? The fact was, he did have a crush on Allison.

“It's possible,” he admitted. “But I haven't been making a lot of progress.”

“It's not personal. I mean…Allison doesn't date. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know that,” Rick said, resting his forearms on the top rail of the fence. “But I don't know why.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don't know, either. We're close in a lot of ways, and I love her with my whole heart, but you've probably figured out that Allison doesn't like talking about herself. She's always made her life about other people. Whenever I ask her about it, she's tells me she'd rather focus on work.”

“That's what she told me, too.”

Rick looked toward the pasture again. Horse and rider were far across the field. “What was she like in high school?”

“A lot like she is now, although I'm ashamed to say I wasn't around much when Allison was a teenager. I left home when I was eighteen, and she was fifteen.”

“You left because of your music?”

“That's right. What a cliché, huh? I used to think of it like a headline: ‘Rebellious Teen Leaves Home To Start Rock Band.'”

“You made a success of it. The Red Mollies were huge for a while.”

Jenna shrugged. “We put out some good music, anyway. I loved writing songs, loved being on the road and doing shows… It's what I'd dreamed of my whole life. But I always felt guilty that I wasn't here more for Allison and my parents when Megan got sick. She got diagnosed about a year after I left. My brother Jake had joined the army and was stationed down in Georgia, so he couldn't get home much. I came back every month or so, but I could have done a lot more. I could have taken a break from the band to be here for my family.”

“Your band was probably like family, too. You didn't want to leave them in the lurch.”

“That was part of it, sure. But if I'm being honest with myself…well, the reality is I let Allison carry a burden I should have made lighter for her. I didn't realize how much she would give up, to be the person everyone could count on.”

Rick glanced at her sharply. “Give up? What did she give up?”

Jenna rested her elbows on the fence rail.

“She had this boyfriend, a guy who went to school with her. Allison went to Fisher Academy, did you know that? On a full academic scholarship. She was always crazy smart, always at the top of her class. We were so proud when she got into Fisher. It wasn't easy for her, either. Those rich kids didn't exactly make her feel welcome. That's why we were so surprised when she started dating one of them.”

He was trying to stay focused on what Jenna was saying but he was dealing with an unwelcome rush of emotion. Was he actually feeling jealous of Allison's high school boyfriend? God, how pathetic could he get? “What was his name? The boyfriend, I mean.”

“Paul, I think. Allison was crazy about him. You know, the way a teenage girl is crazy about her first love.”

“Sure,” Rick said. Another pulse of jealousy made his jaw tighten. He wished he could have known Allison back then, when she was capable of feeling like that. She was so different, now—so self-contained, so determined not to give herself away. “What happened to Mr. Wonderful?”

“Allison broke up with him. She never talked about why, and my parents were pretty focused on Megan at the time, so I don't think they worried too much about it. I always wondered if maybe…”

“What?”

“If maybe she broke up with him because of Megan. So she could focus all her time and energy on her, and on my Mom and Dad. So she could take care of her family.”

Was that what had happened? Was that the reason Allison didn't date now—because she'd fallen in love once and let the guy go? Was she still carrying a torch for her high school sweetheart?

Allison was coming back toward them now and he had a sudden urge to grab hold of her and kiss her, as if he could force love out of the depths of her soul.

Love?

No, not love. That was too big a word, too big a feeling…and something he had no business even thinking about. The rush of possessiveness he'd felt just now was proof of that.

His father had been possessive and jealous, full of rage and hate. Rick's determination to escape that bitter legacy meant he'd never be husband or father material. There was no way he'd risk putting any woman through what his mother had been through.

So he would never take a chance on forever. But he wanted Allison, wanted her to be his for a few weeks or a few months. He wanted her in his bed, giving him her sweetness and warmth and passion and desire.

He hated knowing that she'd felt that way for someone else, so many years ago—and that she'd locked those
emotions away forever. Locked away her heart so that no man could ever touch it again.

Allison maneuvered the horse back to the fence and dismounted neatly and gracefully.

“Wow, that felt good,” she said, sitting on the top rail and grinning down at them both. “Sorry I deserted you there for a while. Did you make any progress with Rick?” she asked her sister.

Jenna shook her head. “Nope. He's a hard nut.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear it. He deserves better than to get his heart stomped on by the likes of you.”

She looked so beautiful sitting there with that smudge of dirt on her face, her blue eyes a shade darker than the sky. He loved the way the sunlight made her brown hair gleam with gold, and he loved the way her small, firm breasts filled out her T-shirt. Before he could stop himself he reached up and brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

She froze, her eyes wide and startled.

“Dirt,” he said, his voice a little rough. He cleared his throat. “You had a smudge of dirt on your cheek.”

She was staring at him, her lips parted.

“I think I'll head inside and check on my birthday cake,” Jenna said into the sudden, charged silence, and Rick was vaguely aware that she had left them, walking briskly back toward the house.

His eyes didn't leave Allison's as he put his hands on her waist. He intended to help her jump down from the fence, but instead he moved closer and let his hands slide up her torso, slowly, just brushing the outside of her breasts. Then he did hoist her off the fence, setting her carefully on her feet.

Her cheeks were red and her breath was coming faster than usual, but she was meeting his eyes and she didn't shy away. He looked down at her, not kissing her the way he wanted to, not moving a muscle.

He wasn't pushing, and she wasn't running.

It felt like a beginning. And as he fell deeper into her blue eyes, Rick realized that he wanted more than Allison's passion.

He wanted her trust. And he was willing to do whatever it took to earn it.

A
llison had never felt so grateful for the cheerful, noisy chaos of her family. She knew Rick was coming in behind her as she pushed through the screen door into the kitchen, but since they'd already done introductions when they first arrived, she didn't need to say anything but hello in answer to the chorus of greetings.

She saw her cousin Ben, a freshman in college, collar Rick and start talking to him eagerly. She was pretty sure an impassioned conversation about “Magician's Labyrinth” was underway. She was glad to be able to lose herself in the cluster of people around the big table, nibbling on the appetizers her mother had set out for everyone.

After only a minute or two, though, she looked for him again. He and Ben were talking over by the counter. Rick turned his head and their eyes met. She flushed and looked away.

Something in his expression made her feel a little dizzy.

It wasn't the fevered desire she'd seen at Hunter Hall. This was…well, she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was, but it made her feel languid and restless at the same time, a combination of feelings she'd never experienced before.

Thank God she was talking with Aunt Beth, so all she had to do was listen and nod at appropriate moments. Her heart was thumping and her skin felt warm.

She saw out of the corner of her eye that her dad had approached Rick and captured his attention, and she couldn't help feeling curious about their conversation. She said something vague to Aunt Beth, who turned her attention to someone else, and Allison moved closer to where her dad and Rick were sitting at the kitchen table.

Rick looked comfortable in worn jeans and a short-sleeved polo shirt. His black hair had started the day off neat but had long since taken on the tousled look she preferred. She wished she could run her fingers through it, brush it off his forehead. She wished she could touch him the way he'd touched her outside, easy and knowing and sensual.

Allison drifted a little closer, and overheard them talking about community supported agriculture, of all things. Rick turned his head and met her eyes again.

“Hey,” he said, smiling and holding out his hand.

After just a second's hesitation she took it, and as Rick tugged her closer so she could be part of the conversation, she knew he couldn't possibly realize what a big deal this was for her. Just to take a man's hand like this, letting her nervousness crackle across her skin
without letting it stop her. To move through the anxiety, the self-doubt, and to even tighten her hand around his a little, as if to affirm that she was choosing this contact, this link, to a man she knew was more than a friend to her.

But for this moment, she didn't need to define what Rick was in her life. She was holding his hand, and that was enough.

She realized her father had asked her something.

“What?”

“I said you should be the one to tell Rick how CSA works. Considering you were the one who helped us implement it here.”

It was hard to focus with her awareness so centered on her right hand, with Rick's warm, strong fingers wrapped around hers.

“Okay. Sure.” She took a deep breath. “I actually researched the CSA business model my senior year in college, and I loved it so much I convinced my parents to redesign their marketing strategy around it.”

“She's pretty persuasive,” Joe said with a smile.

“So says a fond parent. Anyway, if you're a customer, you buy a share in your local farm's growing season. A big family might buy two shares. In return, you get a box of fresh vegetables every week. It's a great system for farmers because they can do sales and marketing during the slow winter months, so by the time things get crazy in the spring and summer they've already sold their year's worth of produce. And because they receive the money up front, cash flow is more predictable.”

She began to warm to her topic, because this was one of the things she was passionate about. “It's really a wonderful program. Farmers get to know their
customers; the people in a community get to know their local farms. There's shared risk, too. If heavy rains wash away a crop one week, everyone's disappointed together. If there's a bumper crop of strawberries or tomatoes or corn, everyone benefits. You feel more connected to what's happening locally with the weather and the land, and of course you get fresh, seasonal produce every week, which makes for a healthy diet.”

“You're right, she is persuasive,” Rick said, turning to her father. “Is it too late in the season to buy a share?”

“Sorry,” Joe said. “Thanks to Allison's help—she set up a website for us a few years ago, among other things—we usually sell out by the end of January. But we can put you on the waiting list for next year.”

“I'd like that.”

Joe asked Rick a question about his business, and at the same time Rick started stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. It was the smallest movement, featherlight on her skin, but she was glad that the two men could carry on the conversation by themselves for a few minutes, because that small movement was all she could think about.

But she didn't feel an urge to pull away, to run and hide. She stayed right where she was, letting wave after wave of sensation radiate through her body, feeling warm and giddy and alive.

In spite of her preoccupation, one thing Rick said caught her attention.

“Did you say Hunter Systems is going to expand into educational software?”

“That's right. I've got a VP with some fantastic ideas. We may be ready to put the first products on the shelves as early as next year.”

“Rick, that's wonderful! You're lucky to have the power to make something like that—something that will help children learn. I'm so—” she stopped abruptly.

“You're so what?” he prodded. He shifted his hand so he could lace his fingers through hers, and a fresh wave of goose bumps prickled her skin.

“I was going to say, proud of you. But that sounds patronizing.”

He shook his head. “No, it doesn't.”

“I think I heard you tell Ben you're designing a new game?” her father asked.

“That's right,” Rick said. “Of course it's only in the beginning stages at this point…”

“Rick! Are you serious? You're creating something new?” Somehow, this made her even happier than the news about the software line. She squeezed his hand, and he smiled at her. “I thought you'd be happy about that,” he said softly.

The warmth in his eyes was making her feel a little light-headed. “I can't wait to see the new game,” she said.

She thought she knew why Rick had stopped designing after “Magician's Labyrinth.” As he got older, he moved further and further away from anything that might make him feel. He didn't trust emotion, whether good or bad. And creating something was definitely an emotional process.

He was letting himself create again. Did that mean he was ready to let other emotions in, too?

“Dinner's ready!” her mom called out, and her dad went to help as people sorted themselves out around the big table.

“Where should I sit?” Rick asked, letting go of her hand at last.

“Next to me,” Allison said.

“My favorite place.” He gave her a quick, private grin that made her heart beat faster.

She was aware of him all through dinner, as he talked with various members of her family and tucked away an impressive amount of chicken and stuffing and vegetables. When the meal was over and the table had been cleared her cousin Kate set up a laptop with a webcam on the table, and Allison forgot Rick for the first time all day when the face of her older brother came up on the screen.

“Hey, everybody,” Jake said with the old grin she remembered, even though his face looked worn and tired.

“Happy Birthday!” they all called out, and her mom brought out an enormous cake with
Jake and Jenna
spelled out in homemade frosting. Jenna blew out the candles for both of them, and then everyone started talking at once.

“Pipe down,” Irene said after a few minutes. “Did I hear that right, Jake? You're really coming home for good?”

“Yeah, sometime this fall,” Jake said. “My commitment is up and I'm getting out.”

There was a chorus of cheers and excited talk, but Allison was quiet. There was something in Jake's eyes that worried her. He'd deployed to Iraq three times and was in Afghanistan now, but this was the first time she'd seen his expression look so shuttered, so shadowed.

Beside her, Jenna was quiet, too. When Allison met
her eyes she knew her sister had seen the same thing she had.

“He'll be home soon,” she said softly, putting her arm around Jenna's waist. Her sister nodded, leaning against her for just a minute before it was time to say goodbye to their brother. He blew them a kiss, and then the screen went blank.

After they'd eaten their cake the family drifted into the living room, breaking into smaller groups for conversation. Her dad acted as the bartender, filling drink orders for anyone who wanted anything, and the musical members of the family gravitated together as they always did, starting an informal jam session over by the piano. Allison saw Jenna relax a little once she had her guitar in her hands, and she went back into the kitchen where a few people lingered to wash dishes, including her mother and Rick.

They were side by side at the kitchen sink, Rick washing and her mother drying. Allison paused in the doorway to watch them, a slow smile spreading across her face.

“We really are putting you to work today,” she said after a minute.

They both turned their heads, and Rick gave her that grin again, the one that made her stomach muscles tighten. “Bring this one to dinner anytime,” her mother said. “Willing dishwashers are always welcome. But I understand you owe Rick a look at our photo albums.”

Allison started to laugh. “That's right! I forgot. You really want to look through Landry family history?”

“Of course I do.”

Irene shooed them both toward the door. “The albums
are upstairs in your dad's study,” she said, turning back to the sink.

A few minutes later Rick was sitting beside her on the old leather sofa as they flipped through photos that Allison hadn't looked at in years.

“Oh, my God,” she said for the tenth time, laughing at the sight of herself in braces, the worst haircut she'd ever had and her junior-high soccer uniform.

“You're adorable in this picture,” Rick said.

“I'm hideous!”

“Adorable.”

She shook her head at him and turned the page. Her mother had put several pictures of Megan together here, collage style.

“You used this one in your memoir,” Rick said, pointing at Megan's seventh-grade school photo.

“You read my memoir?”

He nodded. “I read it last week,” he said. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

She thought about it. Why did it surprise her so much? “Well, you stayed away from hospitals for almost twenty years after your mother died. I guess I thought you avoided the subject of cancer in general.”

“Yeah, I do. But I didn't read your book because it was about cancer. I read it because you wrote it. I'm interested in you, in case you haven't figured that out.”

“Oh.” She felt warm all over, and she found herself admitting something she hadn't meant to. “I bought ‘Magician's Labyrinth' last week. I've been playing it at home, after work.”

It was his turn to look surprised.

“I didn't think you liked video games.”

“I don't, usually. But it's like what you said about my book. You made it, so I'm interested in it.”

He grinned at her, and the warmth inside her deepened. “So what's your verdict? Do you like it?”

“I didn't think I would.”

“But you do?”

“I love it! I'm completely addicted. A couple of nights ago I played for two hours straight.”

He laughed out loud, and Allison couldn't help laughing with him. He had a great laugh, big and deep and contagious.

“What about my book?” she asked, curious to know his opinion. “What did you think of it?”

“I thought it was amazing. But it did make me wonder about the parts you left out.”

She stared at him. “What do you mean, left out?”

He reached for one of the other albums on the coffee table—one she hadn't planned to show him. Her mother had written dates on the covers, and she knew this one would have photos of her junior and senior year at Fisher Academy, a time in her life she didn't particularly want to remember.

“Your book was so brave. You didn't hold anything back—about Megan, anyway. About what she went through, and what you and your family went through while she was sick, and when you lost her.”

He'd opened the album, and was flipping slowly through it. “But you didn't talk about yourself outside of Megan. You were a teenager—there must have been other things going on in your life. Things that didn't have anything to do with Megan, or your family.”

“The book was about Megan, not me. She was im
portant. My family was important,” Allison said, her voice tight as Rick turned pages. “I don't—”

There it was, on the next page. Her junior prom picture.

There were probably several more pictures of her and Paul in this album. Years ago she'd thought about taking them out, but she'd been afraid her parents would notice. She'd been so successful at avoiding questions…she hadn't wanted to do anything that would risk the precarious balance she'd found for herself.

She looked down at her lap, and saw her hands clenched into childish fists, her thumbs tucked inside as if she were trying to protect something.

“What happened?” Rick asked, his voice soft.

“What do you mean?”

“Just now. You were relaxed and laughing, and now you're not. Won't you tell me, Allison?”