The Millionaire's Secret Wish Read online

  Alisa drew a special joy from assisting with the handicapped students. She could tell that every minute they spent on horseback provided them with a desperately needed feeling of progress. With her own memory returning at a slower rate, she easily identified with the need for progress because there were plenty of moments when she felt as if she was going nowhere.

  More and more she craved independence and mobility. Five days into her last week at Dylan’s, after work, she dropped by her apartment and decided to see if her car would start after two months of sitting. Sure enough, the dependable Honda revved to life with only two tries. Although the doctor had not yet released Alisa for driving, she decided to release herself. After leaving a quick, vague message on Dylan’s voice mail, she drove to Granger’s for her tutoring appointment.

  After the tutoring session, she walked to the cottage she had shared with her mother. Sitting on the porch, she felt a dozen memories wash over her. The scent of chocolate chip cookies and dinner filled her mind. Her mother was an excellent cook. She remembered her mother stroking Alisa’s hair at bedtime as she tucked her in. She remembered the long hours her mother had been forced to work and how she had often told Alisa that Alisa deserved better, and that one day things would be different.

  Alisa hadn’t really minded their small, cozy home. She had felt safe there. Although she’d missed her father’s presence, Alisa hadn’t felt deprived except for wanting sisters and brothers. As a child she’d sought a brotherly connection with the boys at the home. By the time her mother remarried, bearing more children was out of the question.

  A breeze wafted over her face, stirring the heat of the sunny August day. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a cat jump onto the porch and settle into the shade. The sight of the tabby brought back yet another memory. Despite her mother’s better judgment she’d allowed Alisa to keep a stray. As long as that cat stays outside! Alisa smiled. She could still hear her mother’s voice in her mind. Most of the time Alisa had complied. She’d only sneaked the cat inside on bitter nights, and Alisa was certain her mother had known. She’d merely turned her head.

  Every time Dylan came around, he’d complained about the cat, but he’d always rubbed the tabby and made her purr. He’d complained because, in his opinion, the cat should have been a dog. When he grew up, he was going to have a golden retriever that would be the best, smartest dog in the world. Even now she could feel the longing in his voice. He’d wanted a dog so badly he could taste it.

  Alisa thought of Dylan’s beautiful, dogless home. She wondered what had happened to his dream of having a golden retriever. She wondered if that was one more loss suffered on his road to becoming a man. She wondered if he was unwilling to open his heart to the dog he’d wanted as a child.

  Dylan glanced down his long driveway for the tenth time in as many minutes and began to sweat.

  He knew Alisa should be fine driving, but he also knew she hadn’t been behind the wheel in months and she was driving in downtown St. Albans during rush hour.

  He couldn’t help remembering how he’d felt when he’d first received the call that she’d been in an accident. He’d felt as if his blood had drained completely from his body. His chest tightened and he sucked in a deep breath. If anything happened to her…

  If they stuck to the deal they’d made, she would be leaving in three days. Dylan felt ambivalent at the prospect. As each day passed, he found it harder and harder not to take what she had offered, not to touch her, not to fill himself with her. She was the one woman, the one person, who had made him feel not alone.

  Perhaps it was best that the temptation of her proximity would be removed. After all, she would remember everything one day, he reminded himself. A cold chill passed over him despite the heat from the late-afternoon sun. One day soon she would remember everything. As surely as the seasons changed, one day soon her expression of longing would turn to contempt.

  Squinting his eyes, he caught sight of her Honda as it rounded the curve. He breathed a sigh of relief. “At least she didn’t hurt herself,” he muttered to himself.

  She pulled to a stop a slight distance away and got out of the car and waved. “Look, Ma,” she said in a joking tone, “I got wheels.”

  Dylan nodded. “So I see. You decided to ignore doctor’s orders.”

  She nodded cheerfully as she walked toward him. “I did. What can I say? I’ve been such a good girl. This halo’s getting too tight for my head.”

  His lips twitched at the same time he felt a tug of arousal. If ever a woman was both angel and bad girl, it was Alisa. He glanced at his watch. “I hesitate to ask where you went.”

  She climbed the steps and stopped in front of him. “Granger’s and a couple other places.” She studied his face. “I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done a week ago.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How long would you have followed doctor’s orders if it meant you couldn’t drive?”

  Hell, he would’ve driven home from the hospital. “Not long,” he conceded. “But I’m not a girl.”

  She blinked at him, then shook her head in disbelief. “You’re not really going to be sexist about this, are you?”

  He sighed. “It’s not sexist. I just don’t want you taking any chances.”

  Her eyes softened. She reached for his hand and hesitated. Despite all his good intentions, Dylan hated the hesitation. He knew the reason for it. She hesitated because he hadn’t made love to her when she had asked him to in every way.

  He took her hand and her gaze widened slightly.

  “Life is full of chances,” she said. “If you don’t take some chances, you might as well be dead.” She bit her lip as if slightly worried. “I took a few today,” she said under her breath.

  “A few,” he echoed, wondering what was going on in her pretty head.

  She smiled a shade too brightly. “When I visited Granger today, I remembered some more things.”

  Uneasy, Dylan waited. “Such as?”

  “My cat,” she told him.

  He nodded. “Tiger.”

  “Yes, you complained about her, but you always rubbed her.”

  “She was so ugly I felt sorry for her.”

  “I’m not going to ask if that’s why you put up with me as a child,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Okay.”

  She glared at him. “I’m just going to believe I was so adorable you couldn’t resist me,” she said. “Or my mother’s cookies,” she added. “Or the opportunity to see The Lone Ranger reruns. But that’s another issue. I decided I wanted to get you a thank-you gift for all you’ve done for—”

  Dylan stiffened and he dropped her hand. “Not necessary. You don’t owe me anything.”

  She wiggled her hand as if she didn’t know what to do with it for a moment, then firmly clasped her hands together. “Well, I’ve already gotten it. I, uh, I really hope you’ll accept it graciously and grow to like it.” She paused a half beat and waited expectantly. “Will you?”

  “Will I what?”

  “Will you accept it graciously?”

  He shrugged, uncomfortable, but unwilling to diminish the eager hopefulness he saw in her eyes. “Sure,” he said with a shrug. “What is it?”

  “Good,” she said, infusing the single word with ten pounds worth of relief. Her gaze flickered nervously away. “It’s in the car. Close your eyes.”

  “Why?” he asked, wondering if he’d voiced his acceptance too soon.

  “Because I want you to,” she insisted. “It’s an easy thing to do. Won’t cost you a dime. Just close your eyes,” she said, lifting his hand to cover his eyes. “Promise you won’t peek.”

  Silence followed. “Promise,” she demanded.

  Dylan stifled a groan. “Promise.”

  He heard the click of her heels on the stone walkway and steps, then the driveway. Her car door creaked open. “Don’t peek!” she yelled.

  “I’m not,” he muttered, but he was tempted as hell. What had sh
e gotten him?

  She slammed the car door and quickly climbed the steps to stand in front of him. “Keep your eyes closed, but open your arms.”

  Confused, he frowned. “What—”

  “Keep your eyes closed, but open your arms,” she repeated.

  “Okay,” he said, his patience stretched. He immediately felt something furry and wiggly in his arms. Dylan looked down into the face of a fuzzy golden retriever puppy. His childhood flashed back to him and he remembered a time when he’d wanted a dog so badly he could taste it. That had been close to twenty years ago. The puppy looked at him with soulful caramel eyes and promptly peed on his Italian loafers.

  Swearing under his breath, he looked at Alisa as if she’d lost her mind.

  She winced at the puppy’s “mistake.” “Oops. I guess we’ll have to work on that.” She gave a smile and lifted her shoulders. “Meet Tonto, the dog of your dreams.”

  Dylan opened his mouth to tell her this wasn’t a good idea. He no longer considered himself a pet person. He’d grown beyond that. He didn’t want that kind of attachment. He didn’t want any attachment. The dog wiggled in his arms. Dylan looked into Alisa’s eyes and couldn’t find it in him to snuff out the eager light of hope he saw there. Damn. A thousand refusals stuck on the edge of his tongue.

  Something was seriously wrong with him. He could refuse to make love to this woman, but he couldn’t refuse her gift that had just turned his Italian leather loafers into Dumpster bait. “Tonto, you say,” he said, looking at the animal that would likely be the reason he would need to replace every stick of furniture in his house within a year.

  “Tonto,” she said nodding. “That was what you’d always said you would name your dog. Your dream dog,” she said, her gaze sliding down to Dylan’s shoes. “With a little work.”

  Dylan felt the back of his neck tighten with tension. “What possessed you to get a dog for me?”

  She laughed mostly to herself and glanced away. “Not having my memory has taught me how precious memories are. Getting back some childhood memories reminds me what a precious time childhood was. Nothing was perfect, but everything was possible.” She looked up at Dylan. “Your life has become almost too perfect, but it seems like you’ve lost your possibilities and dreams. I wanted to give you a dream that would remind you of a time when you still believed in possibilities. Besides,” she said, “he’ll keep you busy after I leave.”

  Dylan knew Alisa had no idea that he dreamed every night that he could rewrite history. No dog could solve that one.

  The following evening Alisa scurried around anxiously awaiting the arrival of Dylan’s half brothers and sister. Even though she’d only received one response, she still asked the housekeeper to set the table for five.

  Dylan was busy trying to console Tonto, who had howled plaintively most of the previous night. Homesick, she suspected, as the puppy let out another howl.

  The doorbell rang, and Alisa’s heart leaped into her throat. As she hurried to greet the guests, she crossed her fingers that all three Remingtons would be on Dylan’s doorstep. She opened the door to one and only one. Her stomach twisted. “Grant,” she said, working to produce a smile. “Please come in. I’m pleased you could join us.”

  He nodded, glancing around the foyer as he entered. He wore a curious but reserved expression on his well-sculpted, perfectly bored face. She wondered if Grant resented the fact that his father’s money had provided Dylan with the means to purchase this home. He shouldn’t, she thought, in light of the fact that Dylan had been denied a father throughout his childhood. She took a mind-clearing breath and pushed the thought aside. Tonight was for mending. Tonight was for possibilities.

  Alisa believed in the possibilities even if Dylan didn’t.

  The puppy let out another whimper and Grant cocked his head to one side. “Is that a dog?”

  “New puppy,” she said, leading him toward the den. “I think he misses Mom.”

  “What kind?” he asked with the barest trace of interest.

  “Golden retriever. You want to see him?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Sure.”

  “This way,” she said, and led him to the Florida room where Dylan was petting the puppy and talking to him in a low voice. He shook his head. “I hate to hear you cry, bud, but you have to get used to this kennel until you learn not to take a leak on the floor.”

  Clearly pleased with the attention, Tonto wagged his tail.

  “Nice-looking animal,” Grant said.

  Both Dylan and the puppy looked up. Dylan met Grant’s gaze. “Thanks.”

  Grant moved closer to pet the dog. “Did you just get him?”

  Dylan nodded. “A gift,” he said, and the word sounded a bit forced to Alisa. “Watch your shoes. Tonto’s not particular.”

  Grant glanced from Alisa to Tonto back to Dylan, and a wry smile cracked his practically perfect face. He bent down to pet the dog anyway. “I always wanted a golden retriever.”

  “Then you have something in common with Dylan,” Alisa said. “He always wanted one, too.”

  Dylan shot Grant a curious glance. “Why didn’t you ever have one?”

  “My mother had a poodle. She thought retrievers were too big for the house.”

  Dylan shrugged. “At least you had a poodle.”

  “My mother had a poodle,” Grant corrected. “And that dog didn’t like kids. I’m not sure my parents liked kids, either,” he said with a wry chuckle.

  At a loss, Alisa glanced at Dylan for help. He was clearly lost in thought. “Your sister and brother were also invited, but we didn’t hear from either of them.”

  “My brother’s in Bangladesh finding himself, so I doubt he’ll be showing. My sister is probably still having nightmares from having met Dylan at the cocktail party. She operates on the principle that if she closes her eyes long enough, whatever is bothering her will disappear.”

  “So why did you come?”

  Grant cracked a smile. It was a shark’s smile that gave her the willies. “I want something from you.”

  Dylan paused, then nodded with approval at his half brother’s directness. “Good, because I want something from you.”

  This was all just a little too strange and cool for Alisa’s taste. “Why don’t we have some dinner before you two begin your negotiations? The cook has prepared an excellent meal.”

  “What about the dog?” Grant asked.

  Dylan shoved the dog into the kennel. “Tonto will provide the dinner music,” he said, and the puppy immediately began to whine.

  From Alisa’s point of view, the meal might as well have been a contest of wits. Dylan and Grant parried and feinted throughout each course. When the cook delivered the cherries jubilee, Alisa was delighted to see the end of it. She ate a few bites, then excused herself to her room, leaving Dylan and Grant to face off again.

  Dylan requested after-dinner brandy from the cook, then asked Grant if he preferred to take it on the outside verandah or in the den.

  “Outside,” Grant said. “I’ve been inside all day.”

  Dylan gave his half brother a measuring glance as he joined the man with a brandy. “So, what do you want?”

  Grant raised his eyebrows. “You don’t beat around the bush. I could like that about you,” he said. “I want your votes and any enthusiasm you can muster to put me in the position of CEO for Remington Pharmaceuticals.”

  “Power,” Dylan said, not at all surprised. “Why should I vote for you?”

  “Because I know the company and I care more about it than anyone else.” His eyes narrowed. “I may even care more about it than my father did.”

  “I don’t know much about our father,” Dylan said, unable to keep a hint of bitterness from his voice.

  “He had his failings,” Grant said. “But in the end he tried to do the right thing. It wasn’t right that he hid his paternity of you until he died. I think he tried to make it right in his will.”

  “It’s a funny thing,”
Dylan said, taking a sip of brandy. “When you’re a little kid, you’re not interested in money and mansions. All you want is a father.”

  “If it helps any, he wasn’t a particularly good father. He wasn’t interested. He didn’t show up for athletic events or graduations. But he covered your college educa—”

  “Oh, no, he didn’t,” Dylan corrected. “I got a baseball scholarship and took out the rest in loans that I paid off before your dad died.”

  Grant met his gaze and Dylan saw a flicker of respect. “Hmm. Baseball scholarship. You must have been pretty damn good.”

  “I played a lot of ball at the Granger’s Home for Boys,” Dylan said. “There wasn’t a lot of money for anything else.”

  Grant sighed. “That’s life. You got a bum deal with my dad. You got a good deal with the lady.”

  Dylan frowned. “Lady?”

  “Alisa,” he said. “I can’t tell if the relationship is friends or more.”

  “It’s complicated,” Dylan said, and silently added, none of your business.

  “She’s one of a kind. If you get tired of her—”

  “Save your breath,” Dylan said. “That won’t happen.”

  Grant shrugged. “I’ve told you what I want. What do you want? A bigger piece of the Remington fortune? More money? Intro into the country club?”

  Dylan smiled. His half brother had clearly underestimated him. “No, I want your support to start a bioengineering research division of Remington Pharmaceuticals.”

  Grant did a double take. “That’s pretty damn expensive.”

  “Yep. I’ve got start-up funding for the first year.”

  “From who?”

  “A private charitable organization,” Dylan said.

  “That’s a lot of money,” Grant said doubtfully. “I don’t know many people who want to part with that much for charity’s sake.”

  Dylan grinned again and lifted his glass. “Then maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong crowd. Do we have a deal or not?”

  “You’ll support me as CEO if I support the bioengineering research project,” Grant clarified. “You’ll need more than my votes.”

  Dylan nodded. “I have more than your votes.”