The Billionaire's New Year Gift

Question was, did he want to?

The minute P.J. closed her apartment door behind her, she began stripping off her clothes. Today more than any other, she felt the need to get outside and work the kinks out. She could hardly wait to put on her running clothes and shoes and hit the park.

A scant ten minutes later, she was in her bright-blue Miata convertible—top down, breeze ruffling her hair—and heading for the Jansen River and the park that had been built along its banks. Washington State looked beautiful in late summer, she thought, with its riot of colorful flowers and lush green lawns. People complained about all the rain they got, but without the rain, the landscape would be as brown as California’s. As she drove along, idly enjoying the scenery, her mind once again drifted to her new employee.

Just as Anna had predicted, throughout the afternoon, at least half a dozen women from different departments at the distribution center had come, on the flimsiest of excuses, to check out Alex Noble.

One of them, Carrie Wancheck, a twenty-one-year-old who worked in payroll, hadn’t even bothered with an excuse. She’d grinned at P.J., saying in a stage whisper, “I just wanted to see the hunk everyone’s talking about.”

“He’s too old for you,” P.J. had snapped.

Carrie’s smile was knowing. “I like older men. They’re usually the best lovers.”

P.J. had had to force herself not to say anything else, because she realized it might sound as if she were jealous or something. Jealous! Nothing could be farther from the truth. She had absolutely no interest in Alex Noble. None. Zero. Nada. But she knew how the women at the center could be. If you said you weren’t interested in someone, they immediately thought you were lying. Especially when the man in question was as attractive as Alex Noble.

So she’d kept quiet and silently fumed instead. Dammit. She needed this kind of distraction in her department like she needed a hole in the head. If they were going to palm off a new employee, the least they could have done was make him homely.

And the women in her own department were the worst of all! Even Ruby, who was only nineteen and a year out of high school, had hung around Alex to the point where P.J. had to say something to her. P.J. had wanted to add that she didn’t think a man like Alex would be interested in a kid with purple spiked hair, five earrings on each ear, and a rose tattoo down her right arm, but despite her appearance, Ruby was a nice kid, and P.J. liked her, so she just sighed and told Ruby to get back to work, then watched the girl skate away.

She was so engrossed in thinking about Alex Noble and the disruption he’d caused today that she almost passed up the entrance to the park.

Hitting the brakes, she managed to slow down in time to turn onto the driveway. Five minutes later, settled into a nice easy jogging rhythm, she finally managed to put Alex Noble and the rest of the irritations of the day out of her mind.

Just as he had taken off his clothes and was heading into the shower, Alex’s cell phone rang. He thought about ignoring it, then sighed, reached for it and looked at the caller ID. It was his sister Julie.

“Hey,” he said. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re in trouble again.”

“Hey, yourself,” Julie said, her voice filled with amusement. “Why would you assume I’m in trouble? Can’t I just call to say hello?”

“Yes, but you rarely do.”

“Now Alex…is that nice?”

Alex chuckled. Deciding this call might take awhile, he grabbed a towel from the towel rack and, tucking the phone under his chin, wrapped the towel around himself, then sat on the rim of the tub to continue the conversation. “So if you’re not in trouble, what’s up, Jules?”

“I called to invite you to my birthday bash.”

“That’s right. You have got a birthday coming up soon.”

“Don’t pretend you forgot.”

Alex smiled. They both knew he never forgot her birthday. In fact, he’d already bought her gift— earrings and a matching bracelet designed by a local artist who worked in silver and semi-precious stones. The moment Alex had spied the pair set with deep-blue tourmalines, he’d known they were perfect for his sister, whose eyes were an exact match. “So where’s the party going to be?”

“Well, believe it or not, it’s going to be at the house.”

“That’s certainly different.” Usually Julie’s parties took place at one of the many clubs she and her friends frequented.

“Mom insisted.”

“And bribed you how?”

Julie laughed. “I want a new car.”

“A new car?” Alex said in disbelief. “Your Mini Cooper is only two years old.”

“I know, but I’m tired of it.”

Alex mentally shook his head. He remembered how Julie had wheedled when she’d wanted that car. “So what do you want now?”

“I saw this really gorgeous black Lotus—”

“Lotus! Geez, Jules, you’re talking, what, sixty thousand or more?”

“Daddy can afford it.”

“That’s not the point. You don’t need a car like that.”

“Need has nothing to do with it.”

Alex sighed. She was so damn spoiled. There was no doubt in his mind that his stepfather would buy her the Lotus.

“Anyway, will you come to my party?”

“When is it?”

“On my birthday. It’s a Friday, so that works out great. Seven o’clock. You can bring a date, too, if you want.”

“No date.”

“But you’ll be there, right?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Mom’ll be happy.”

Alex grunted. His mother had been attempting for a long time to get back into his good graces, but no matter how she tried to make it up to him, Alex found it almost impossible to forget that when he was only two years old, she’d given custody of him to Harry.

Hell, every single one of Harry’s wives had sold out for money. Although he and his half-brothers rarely talked about it, Alex couldn’t help but think Justin, J.T. and Gray had been just as affected by their mothers’ abandonment as Alex had. Because what else could you call it when your mother took money in exchange for giving sole custody of you to your father?

At least Alex, as the next to youngest, had only had to get used to one stepmother—Justin’s mother—and she hadn’t lasted all that long. Gray, on the other hand, had gone through three stepmothers, all of whom had a short shelf life with Harry. No wonder Gray was so mistrustful of women.

It was pretty sad, but the only stable female influence in their lives was their Aunt Cornelia. And she wasn’t technically their aunt at all, even though they’d referred to her that way all their lives. She was actually the widow of Harry’s best friend, and it was Alex’s private belief that Harry had been in love with Cornelia for years.

As Julie continued to chatter excitedly about the car she coveted, Alex wondered if it would do any good for him to talk to his stepfather about her. Alex didn’t want his sister to turn out like their mother, and indulging her the way her father did wouldn’t encourage her to be any different.

But as much as he wanted to do something, he knew he’d better not. Terrence would get his hackles up if Alex said anything to him. No sense causing any more tension in the family.

When Julie wound down, they said their goodbyes—Julie exacting one more promise from Alex that he’d be at her party—and Alex tossed the towel he’d been wearing onto the towel rack. He started to step into the tub when he suddenly changed his mind. Even though he was tired, he knew he’d feel better if he got some real exercise today. Something to unkink his muscles and blow the stink off. After that he could come home and shower and crash with a beer and dinner.

Twenty minutes later, dressed in shorts, a Coldplay T-shirt Julie had given him along with their newest CD, and his cross-trainers, he pulled into Jansen Park. Although running wasn’t his favorite activity, in the absence of a tennis partner, it would do. He still hadn’t found a gym to join, but he hoped to remedy that soon, too.

He was about halfway through his run when one of the runners coming toward him from the opposite direction looked familiar to him. As she got closer, he realized it was his boss, the prickly P.J. Kincaid.

Well, well.

His gaze took in the riot of red hair inadequately held back by a sweatband, her perspiration-soaked white T-shirt that had molded to her rounded breasts, the navy-blue running shorts that showed off her nice firm butt, and her long, shapely legs with their well-defined calf muscles. Prickly or not, she sure was easy on the eyes.

He knew the exact moment when she realized who he was. Her eyes widened, her nice, even rhythm faltered, and she nearly stumbled.

Recovering quickly, she stopped, and when her breathing had slowed enough to speak, she said, “Hello, Alex.”

“Hi.” Alex mopped his brow with the towel he’d thrown around his neck.

“So you’re a runner, are you?”

Damn, those blue eyes of hers were unnerving. “Not much of one, I’m afraid.”

She shrugged. “You’re here.”

“I need the exercise. You run here a lot?”

“Every day.”

No wonder she looked as good as she did. “How far does this trail go?” he asked to distract himself from just how good she looked.

“If you go all the way around, it’s exactly five miles.” Now her gaze held a challenge. “You plan to do the whole trail?”

“I thought I would,” he said, although he hadn’t planned anything of the kind.

“Good.” She looked at her black sports watch. “Well, I’d better get going. I’m meeting my sister for dinner at seven and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.” She gave him a wave as she set off. “See you tomorrow.”

Alex couldn’t help it.

Instead of continuing on his way immediately, he watched her. Yes, she certainly did have a nice butt. In fact, it was one of the nicest butts he’d seen in a long time. It would fit very nicely in a man’s hands.

And those legs!

Alex couldn’t stop himself from imagining those legs twined around a man when making love.

It was at that moment Alex decided maybe he’d forget about playing tennis and joining a gym. Maybe running here in the evenings was a much more sensible choice.

Chapter Three

P.J. wanted to turn around and look back in the worst way. Yet the last thing, the very last thing she wanted was for Alex Noble to think she was interested in him like the rest of those silly women at work.

Because she wasn’t.

Not at all.

But, she thought grudgingly, she had to admit he was good to look at. Idly, she wondered how tall he was. At least six-two or six-three, she imagined. P.J. had always had a thing for tall men. Maybe that was because at five-seven she was on the tall side herself. And the rare times she got dressed up, she liked wearing three-inch heels. She also liked looking up when she was with a man. No Katie Holmes–Tom Cruise thing for her!

Will you stop it? Alex Noble is not in the running as an escort or anything else. Remember that. He’s an employee. Your employee. So even if you were interested—and you’re not!—you don’t date employees.

Ever.

Yet no matter how many times she told herself to stop thinking about Alex, she couldn’t seem to wipe the image of him in those shorts and that T-shirt that defined his well-developed pecs out of her mind.

She thought about him all the way back to her condo. She thought about him as she took a quick shower. She thought about him as she dressed to meet Courtney. And she was still thinking about him as she walked into Mackey’s Bar and Grill in beautiful downtown Webber—which was halfway between Seattle proper and Jansen—at exactly one minute to seven.

Courtney was already there and had secured a booth. She grinned at P.J. and stood to give her a hug. Courtney had inherited their mother’s blond hair and green eyes, whereas P.J.’s coloring came from her Grandmother Kincaid. As always, Courtney looked bandbox perfect in creamy linen cropped pants, a short-sleeved black silk summer sweater, and black espadrilles. P.J. couldn’t help but notice the beautifully manicured toenails and fingernails sporting a summery shade of coral. In contrast, P.J.’s own nails were unpolished and desperately needed work. And her jeans and T-shirt weren’t exactly the latest fashion, either.

That’s what happens when there’s no man in your life, an insidious little voice said. You forget to pay attention to yourself. She couldn’t even use the excuse of her job, because most of the women at the center paid a lot more attention to their appearance than P.J. did.

She and Courtney had barely said their hellos and how-are-yous when their waiter approached. “What can I get you to drink?” he asked, looking at P.J.

“What have you got on draft?” she asked.

He named the brands.

“No Black Sheep?” P.J. had a weakness for good English ale.

“No, sorry.”

“Okay. I’ll have a Guinness.” She smiled at her sister after he’d left to fill her order. “What’re you drinking?”

Courtney made a face. “Ginger ale.”

Thinking her sister wasn’t having a beer because she had a fairly long drive back to Mercer Island where she and her husband had bought a new home the year before, P.J. said, “One beer should be okay. I mean, you’re going to eat before you get behind the wheel again.”

Courtney hesitated, her gaze sliding away briefly before returning to meet P.J.’s. “That’s not why I’m not drinking,” she finally said.

“Well, what then—?” P.J. stopped abruptly. She fought against feelings she’d thought she’d conquered long ago. Yet here they were again, still hurtful, still unworthy of her, especially considering how much she loved Courtney. “You’re pregnant again?” she asked softly.

Courtney nodded. “Three months.”

“Three months! And you’ve kept it a secret this long?” P.J. was proud of herself. She sounded just the way she wanted to sound—happy for Courtney and nothing else.

“I wanted to wait till I’d passed the first trimester.” Courtney’s eyes searched P.J.’s. P.J. knew Courtney was worried about how her news would affect P.J.

Reaching across the table, she took Courtney’s hand. “Are you happy about this?” Courtney and her husband already had three kids—a boy, ten, and two little girls, seven and four.

Courtney nodded. “I am. Brad…well, he wants another boy in the worst way.”

P.J. refrained from rolling her eyes or saying what she thought about Brad and his wants. In her opinion, her sister’s husband was a neanderthal. P.J. wouldn’t have put up with him for a minute, let alone the twelve years Courtney’d been married to him. For one thing, he didn’t believe in women holding jobs outside the home.

For another, he was constantly saying things like, “Honey, you wouldn’t understand that even if I did explain it,” when Courtney asked him about anything to do with his job. You’d think he was a rocket scientist, for God’s sake, when he was a lawyer.

Courtney was every bit as smart as he was, probably smarter, P.J. thought. Yet she seemed contented with Brad. His put-downs didn’t seem to bother her at all. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice them.

To each his own, P.J. thought. Better her than me.

“Well, if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you,” she said now. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Courtney sipped at her ginger ale and eyed her sister over the rim of her glass.

P.J. knew she wanted to say something. To prevent yet another conversation about P.J.’s situation, she hurriedly asked, “Do Mom and Dad know?”

“Not yet.”

“You mean, you’re telling me before you told them?”

“You’re my favorite sister, you know that.”

They smiled at each other, and P.J. forced herself to remember how lucky she was. She might not ever be able to have any children of her own, and she might have repudiated her family’s money and her status as an heiress, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love her parents and siblings. And she absolutely adored her nieces and nephews—Courtney’s three and soon to be four, Jillian’s two, and Peter’s two.

P.J. told herself it didn’t matter if she couldn’t have kids, because she had no intention of getting married, anyway. She’d known long ago she wasn’t cut out for marriage. In fact, she couldn’t imagine subjugating herself to a man…any man. Just the idea of a man telling her what she could and couldn’t do set her teeth on edge.

And she certainly wasn’t cut out for homemaking. Hell, she couldn’t even boil water, let alone cook. And as far as cleaning went, forget that, too. One of her indulgences was a once-a-week maid service, and even if she had to give up food, she intended to keep that.

Well, maybe that was an exaggeration. She liked food too much, especially carbs. In fact, she’d never met a carb she didn’t like. That was the biggest reason she forced herself to run five miles every day. So she could keep eating all those fries and pasta and pizza and still keep her figure.

Yet, even as she told herself all of this, she knew she might have been willing to give the marriage thing a try if not for her probable inability to have children. Providing, of course, the right man should come along.

You can always adopt.

Maybe, she thought. But there again, it would take the right kind of man. And lately, she’d begun to think he didn’t exist.

Plenty of single women adopt.

P.J. had actually considered adoption. In fact, she’d given some serious consideration to adopting an older child—one of the ones considered hard to place since everyone seemed to want babies. And maybe one of these days she’d finally get around to doing something about it.

By now the waiter had brought P.J.’s beer and the sisters had placed their orders—P.J. a steak sandwich and fries, Courtney the house specialty of coconut-crusted shrimp salad.

“P.J., you eat entirely too much junk food,” Courtney said mildly as their waiter walked off.

“I know. That’s why I run.”

“Do you ever eat a salad?”

“Sure.”

“How often, once a month?”

P.J. grinned. “You know me too well.” After taking a swallow of her beer, she said, “So you’re due in…mid-February?”

Courtney nodded. “February fourteenth, to be exact.”

“At least it’s not Christmas day.” P.J.’s birthday was two days before Christmas and she’d always hated that. “Just don’t name him Valentino or something like that.”

Courtney snorted. “Like Brad would let me.”

To keep from saying something snide about Brad, P.J. said, “So what else is new?”

“Let’s see. Um, Melissa McKee is getting a divorce.”

“You’re not serious!”

“Melissa’s the one who told me.”

“That’s a shame. I thought she and Rod had a good marriage.”

“Hey, he’ll be eligible now…” Courtney’s eyes were speculative.

P.J. knew what she was thinking. “Forget that,” she said quickly. “He’s not my type. But he’ll have no shortage of women lining up to be the next Mrs. McKee, I’m sure of that.”

Rod was a very wealthy man as well as a good-looking one. P.J. wasn’t sure what he did. Something in commodities trading, she thought. He probably had no social conscience to speak of. Definitely not her type.

Thinking that, she couldn’t help remembering she’d said the same thing about Alex Noble just today, that he was not her type, either. Something in her expression must have alerted Courtney to the direction of her thoughts because her sister said, “Wait a minute. Are you dating someone?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“You had a strange look on your face.”

“Oh, I was just thinking about a new guy who started working for me today. Anna—you’ve heard me talk about her—said something about him and I told her he wasn’t my type, either.”

“Why’d she say something about him?”

P.J. shrugged. “He’s kind of a hunk. If you like that type.”

“And what type is that?”

“Oh, you know, tall, dark, handsome.” P.J. smiled in spite of herself.

“And you don’t like that type.” Courtney shook her head, laughing. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

Just then the waiter came with their food, and the sisters fell silent until he was gone again.

Courtney began to cut up her salad. She speared a piece of shrimp and some lettuce leaves, but before putting them into her mouth, she said, “Maybe you should give this new guy at work a chance. Who knows? You might actually like him.”

“Who said he’s interested in me?” P.J. poured a mound of ketchup next to her fries and dipped one in.

Courtney gave her a look. “You’re a very pretty, very sexy woman. Of course he’ll be interested in you.” She forked another bite of salad into her mouth. Then she grinned. “That’s if you can keep your mouth shut.”

P.J. glared at her sister. But she couldn’t hold the expression and was soon laughing. “Yeah, that can be a problem,” she admitted. She’d run more than one guy off by expressing her opinions, which were almost always diametrically opposed to theirs.

“So tell me more about this guy,” Courtney said when their laughter subsided.

“No point. I’m not interested in him. And even if I were, which I’m not, he works for me. I don’t date guys who work for me. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Courtney nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Conflict of interest or something.” She studied P.J. for a minute. “Are you sure it’s not the baby thing stopping you? Because if it is, lots of guys don’t want kids.”

P.J. sighed. “I know that.” She wanted to add that any guy who didn’t want kids was probably not the kind of guy she’d want to be with, anyway, but she didn’t. Courtney would just feel bad if she said something like that.

“Do you? Seems to me you throw up all kinds of excuses to keep men at a distance, and I can’t help thinking that’s the real reason.”

P.J. shrugged. “It’s not. But I can’t help thinking about it. I mean, what if I start dating someone and really like them and they like me? Then I tell them I can’t have kids? Is that fair?”

“Well, you can hardly tell them before you go out with them,” Courtney pointed out. She made a face. “It is a problem, isn’t it?”

P.J. nodded, then made a face. “Let’s change the subject, okay? I’m awfully tired of this one. Tell me what Jillian and Peter are up to. I haven’t talked to either one in weeks.”

“The phone works both ways, you know.”

P.J. started to laugh. “If my eyes had been closed, I would have sworn that was Mom talking.”

The expression on Courtney’s face was priceless. But then she joined P.J.’s laughter, and for the rest of evening, they kept their conversation lighthearted.

Alex had just finished his dinner—a really excellent omelette—and before settling in with the new T. Jefferson Parker book he’d bought, he decided to check his messages on his home phone. He didn’t really expect there to be anything important, but he’d better check, anyway.

The first two were invitations he wasn’t interested in accepting—he’d ask his secretary to send his regrets—the third was a hangup, and the fourth was from Georgie—short for Georgianna, the oldest of Cornelia’s four daughters.

The message started with, “Hey, Alex, where the heck are you? I called your office but the call was routed to Marti and she said you’re taking a leave of absence? Holy cow, has hell frozen over? I’ve hardly ever known you to leave your precious foundation for a vacation, let alone a leave of absence. Call me! I need to talk to you. Smooches.”

Alex chuckled. He loved Georgie. Too bad he felt toward her the way he felt toward Julie, because if not, she’d have made a perfect wife.

Punching in the code for her cell, he waited for her to pick up. Instead he got her voice mail. “This is Georgie. Leave a message and I’ll call you back soonest.”