Читать книгу The Billionaire's New Year Gift - Emma Darcy - Страница 16

Monday turned out to be Alex’s busiest day at the HuntCom Distribution Center since he’d begun the job. There was barely time to breathe, let alone take a break. And lunch consisted of a sandwich gobbled in ten minutes. He was in the middle of filling a large order for an office supply store in Portland when his cell phone vibrated.

“Dammit,” he muttered. Checking the caller ID, he saw it was J.T. He almost let the call go to voice mail, then decided it must be important because J.T. rarely called him.

Alex pressed the talk button. “Hang on.” Moving away from the noise of a nearby forklift, he said, “There must be a problem if you’re calling me at work.”

“‘Work’ is eighty miles north of here,” J.T. said. “What you’re doing is…what are you doing, anyway?”

Alex laughed. “Filling orders.”

“Right. Look, there’s no problem. I just need to talk to you. I’m over at the expansion site.”

“You’re in Jansen?”

“Yes. I just finished a site inspection with the construction foreman. Which warehouse are you in?”

Alex lowered his voice. “Don’t come over here. If somebody recognizes you, they might recognize me. I get off at four. Meet me at my place at four-thirty.”

“Where’s that?”

Alex gave J.T. directions. “Don’t be surprised by the place. It’s not what you’re used to,” he said in warning. That was an understatement, he thought after they’d hung up. He’d seen Gray’s place in town and he figured J.T. and Justin probably lived in places just as luxurious when they happened to be in the city—which wasn’t often. That was one of the reasons Alex hadn’t seen either place—the other being that unfortunately, he and his half-brothers weren’t close, something Alex was beginning to hope might change one of these days.

On the dot of four-thirty, a knock sounded at Alex’s front door. He opened it and smiled at J.T. The brothers weren’t close, yet there was a bond that couldn’t be denied.

“Hey,” J.T. said, stepping in.

“Hey, J.T.”

J.T. glanced around. “When Gray said you’d taken a job at the warehouse as a cover for this bride thing, he didn’t mention that you’d moved in with the masses.”

Alex laughed. “When in Rome …”

“In Rome, they at least live with some color.” J.T’s thoughtful frown moved from the breakfast bar that separated the small kitchen from the living area. He took in the beige sofa, nondescript coffee table and black leather recliner, which formed what there was of Alex’s seating area. “You could seriously use some art here,” he observed. “Did the furniture come with the place?”

Alex shook his head. “I bought it at a discount store. If anyone from the plant comes over, I don’t want them to suspect anything.”

“Any luck there? Meeting an appropriate woman, I mean?”

Alex gave a guarded shrug. “I’ve only been there three weeks,” he said evasively. He wasn’t ready to talk about P.J.

“Then you’ve spotted a prospect?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I don’t have much of a liquor supply,” he added, not bothering to be subtle about the change of subject. Alex wasn’t ready to talk about P.J. to anyone. “About all I can offer you is a beer.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Do you want one?”

J.T. grinned. “Let me guess. You bought it on sale, $3.99 for a twelve-pack.”

Alex smiled sheepishly. “There are a few things I still splurge on. I have Beck’s or Black Sheep.”

“Surprise me.”

“So,” Alex said as he swung open the refrigerator door. “Why’d you want to see me?”

“I need some advice.”

Alex turned from the refrigerator, a bottle in each hand and one eyebrow arched. “From me?” He couldn’t remember the last time one of his brothers wanted his advice.

From where he remained on the other side of the bar, J.T. frowned. “You’re the only person I know who knows anything about fund-raisers.”

“What makes you think I know about fund-raisers?”

“Hell, Alex. You go to them all the time. And you have to raise money for the foundation somehow.”

“That shows how little we know about what each of us does,” Alex informed him. “You’re right about one thing. I’ve attended a lot of fund-raisers for different charities or organizations, but the Harrison Hunt Foundation doesn’t raise money that way.” He popped off the caps with a bottle opener and held a bottle out for J.T. “We use the interest from Harry’s money to fund our causes.” And occasionally they accepted donations from other parties, but that wasn’t relevant, so there was no point in bringing it up. “What is it you want to know about them?”

“The short version is that I want to help someone raise some money.”

“And the long version?”

J.T. tipped up his bottle and drank. Alex wondered if he wanted to buy time before answering, because there was something about his expression that seemed wary.

“This bride-hunt thing,” J.T. finally said. “Because of Harry’s rules, I can’t just write a check. Or,” he added with a half-smile, “go to my brother and ask the foundation to do it. If I did that, I’m afraid she’d figure out the money had something to do with me.” The smile died. “If she did, I could tell her I just happened to know someone with connections, but I don’t want to raise any red flags.”

Curious now, Alex rounded the counter and pulled out a bar stool. Motioning for J.T. to take the other, he said, “You’ve found a potential wife?”

J.T. frowned. “How’d you get that from what I just told you?”

“You’re talking about helping a woman. You said you can’t because of Harry’s rules. I’m not the math genius in the family, but it’s pretty much one plus one, J.T.”

“I’ve found a woman with the potential to be a wife,” J.T. said. He hesitated. “But the woman I want to help is her assistant. Her grandmother lives in this home that’s going to have to close if the director can’t come up with about fifty grand.”

Both of Alex’s eyebrows lifted this time. “That’s not the kind of money you can raise selling calendars. You need an event, and a corporation or two to underwrite it. Like I said, we don’t organize fund-raisers, but I know people who do.”

He thought for a moment. “One of women on the foundation board chairs an annual luncheon and fashion show that makes a mint for the Seattle Opera Guild. Maybe your girlfriend’s assistant could do something like that in Portland.”

“Think she’d be willing to talk to Amy?”

“Amy’s the assistant?”

J.T. nodded.

“I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t.”

J.T. seemed relieved. “Let me run this by Amy, then. If she thinks it’s something she can handle, I’ll get back to you.”

“Sure. Not a problem.” Alex drank some of his beer. “You hungry?”

“Getting there.”

“I’m starving. How about I throw something together for us to eat?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Paella,” he said, heading back into the kitchen. “I picked up shrimp and sausage at the market last night. That sound okay?”

“You can make paella?”

Alex just shook his head and laughed. J.T., Justin, and Gray were all intelligent, successful men. But their idea of cooking was limited to grilling steaks or chicken.

“Then it sounds great,” J.T. said.

As Alex began his preparations with J.T. watching, he tried to remember the last time he’d shared a meal with one of his brothers, and he couldn’t.

Harry’s bride-hunt idea might be unconventional, perhaps even crazy, but it had accomplished something unexpected. It had brought Alex and his brothers closer together.

And for that, Alex was grateful.

* * *

J.T.’s visit had got Alex thinking, and he’d decided he really needed to find out more about P.J. before he made any kind of move—for two reasons. One, even though she seemed to be exactly the kind of woman he wanted, and it was hard to believe she was hiding anything, only a fool would take someone on face value, and he wasn’t a fool. Two, if she was already spoken for, he’d have to look elsewhere for his bride.

The first thing he did was Google her. Several items with either the initials P.J. or the name Kincaid came up, but those didn’t apply. Then he saw an article that had appeared in the Seattle Times about someone named Paige Jeffers Kincaid.

He clicked on the article, dated April of the previous year. It was a write-up about Peter Prescott Kincaid, CEO of Kincaid Industries, whose ancestors had made fortunes in lumber and shipbuilding. Paige Jeffers Kincaid was one of Peter Kincaid’s daughters. At the time the article was written, she was twenty-nine years old.

Alex frowned. Could P.J. be Paige Jeffers Kincaid? The age was about right. Too bad there wasn’t a picture with the article.

He went back to the Google home page and entered Paige Jeffers Kincaid. Several items appeared and he scrolled down until he found one with a picture.

The picture accompanied an article about Paige Kincaid’s graduation from a private girls’ high school where she’d been valedictorian of her class.

The picture showed a fresh-faced, serious-looking P.J. Alex stared at the photo for a long time. The article called her an heiress. “Heiress to a great fortune,” it said. “The third of Peter Prescott Kincaid’s four children,” it said, “who will be attending Stanford in the fall.”

At first, he was indignant. What the hell was she doing, pretending to be an ordinary woman working at an ordinary job? Before long, though, amusement supplanted the indignation. She was doing exactly what he was doing. How could he be angry with her? He’d be willing to bet every single thing she’d told him had been the truth.

Well, well, well. This changed everything. And yet, did it? After all, if Alex did marry P.J., no one could ever accuse her of wanting his money.

So now he knew half of what he needed to know. And he’d just bet Rick could supply the other half. He decided the first chance he got, he would quiz Rick about her.

It was Wednesday before he got the chance. The two of them were eating lunch together in the cafeteria and Rick mentioned something P.J. had said earlier. “Hey,” Alex said after he’d finished telling the anecdote, “I’ve been meaning to ask you. What’s P.J.’s story?”

Rick, who had just taken a huge bite of his burger, chewed and swallowed before giving Alex a knowing grin. “I knew you liked her.”

“I’m just curious about her. You have to admit, she’s not exactly the kind of woman you’d expect to find in a warehouse.”

“Yeah,” Rick agreed. “I figured out a long time ago she comes from a different background than most of the women at the center. More educated.” He looked at Alex speculatively. “Kinda like you.”

“Me?”

“It’s obvious you’re a helluva lot more educated than the rest of us, Alex. Lotta the guys been wondering what you’re doing at the center.”

Alex winced. And here he thought he’d been fitting in so well.

“It’s no big deal,” Rick continued. “Most of ’em figure you got your reasons for working there. Hell, we all got our reasons. Anyway, I think P.J.’s family probably has some money or something. She pretends she’s like the rest of us, but you can tell she comes from a privileged background. I mean, even the way she talks is different, you know? Something must have happened, though,” Rick added, “because here she is.”

“Happened with her family, you mean?”

“Yeah. Maybe they don’t get along.”

Alex nodded. Yet on the night he’d met her jogging she’d mentioned having a date with her sister for dinner and the other night at the Thai place she’d said her family all lived in the area. She hadn’t sounded as if they were estranged or anything. On the other hand, she might have felt she didn’t know him well enough to mention any problems they might have. He certainly hadn’t said anything about his family. “Does she ever talk about them?”

Rick shook his head. “One time she just said they didn’t see eye to eye.”

That could have been a reference to the differences she’d mentioned regarding her job choice. Or it could be something deeper. Maybe she’s got a mother like mine. “How long has she worked for the company?”

“She started about six months before I did. In fact, we worked on the same team for a while.”

Alex wondered if Rick had resented the fact P.J. had been promoted to a supervisory position and he hadn’t.

“But it was obvious from the beginning she wouldn’t stay a picker for long,” Rick said. “She’s too smart.”

“Did you mind that? That she got promoted and you didn’t?”

“Me? Hell, no. I don’t want to be in management. Nothing but headaches managing people.”

Alex smiled. Rick was right. In fact, managing the staff at the foundation was Alex’s least favorite part of the job. Thank God for Marti. She was a jewel when it came to getting people to do their jobs without resentment or problems.

“P.J.’s a good boss. Lots better than I would have been,” Rick said.

“Wonder why she’s not married,” Alex commented, keeping his voice casual as he got to what he really wanted to know.

“Now that I can answer.” Rick grinned. “She doesn’t believe in marriage. Said there’s no way she’s ever gonna let some man order her around.”

Alex chuckled in spite of himself. That sounded like P.J. “Think she means it?”

“I’ve never known P.J. to say anything she doesn’t mean.”

The words were hardly out of Rick’s mouth when a voice behind Alex said, “Who’s taking my name in vain?”

Alex turned around. P.J. stood there, hands on her denim-clad hips, a mock frown on her face.

“We were just sayin’ what a great boss you are, boss,” Rick said.

P.J. rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“We were,” Rick insisted.

“Is that true, Alex?” she said.

“Scout’s honor,” Alex said, raising his right hand.

She fought against the smile, but lost. Soon all three were laughing. “Well, next time you have to fill out one of those surveys about our department, make sure you remember to say that,” she said. “Maybe they’ll give me a big raise.” Then she waved goodbye and left them to their lunch.

“She’s a good sport,” Rick said.

Alex nodded. He admired the way she treated her employees. She was professional, but she was also friendly. He could tell they respected her. He wondered what they’d think if they knew her background.

“She’s also a really nice person,” Rick added.

“Seems to be,” Alex said.

“No, I mean really nice. She’s helped out a couple of the people here. Financially, I mean. One of the girls in the shipping department, her little boy was sick and the girl either needed to stay home and take care of him or hire someone to do it and either way, she couldn’t afford it. P.J. heard about it and she made sure Evvie was taken care of.”

“Taken care of…how?”

“She started a sick-day pool. You know, she convinced the powers that be to let any employee who wanted to to contribute some of their sick days to Evvie so she could stay home and not lose pay. And P.J. contributed the most. Plus I heard she also gave Evvie some money.”

The more Rick talked about P.J., the more Alex admired her. It seemed to him that she had exactly the same kinds of values he had. In fact, he couldn’t imagine finding another woman more suited to him.

She was the woman he wanted.

Now all he had to do was convince her she really did want to be married.

“Hey, Alex, you have any interest in poker?” Rick asked later that afternoon.

“I love poker. Play every chance I get.” He’d actually started a poker night with a couple of the guys who worked for the foundation.

“Well, a bunch of us play twice a month, and we’re supposed to play tomorrow night, but Chick, who’s one of our regulars, can’t make it. Wanna fill in?”

“Sure, that’d be great.”

“It’s at Wayne’s house. He’ll give you directions.”

When Alex walked into Wayne Crowder’s house the following evening, the first person he saw was P.J. He could see she was as surprised as he was, even though she tried to disguise it, just as he did. Alex wasn’t sure if he was glad or not. Having her there would be a distraction, and Alex took his poker seriously.

Wayne brought Alex a beer and he joined the others at the table. They were playing in the dining room of the small bungalow, and Wayne had set out bowls of nuts, pretzels and chips.

Alex noticed a high chair in the corner but no sign of a child or a wife. What he’d seen of the house was homey and had a woman’s touch, so he figured there must be a female in the equation.

“Let’s get started,” Rick said. He began to shuffle the cards as the others dug out their money.

“What do you guys play?” Alex asked.

“Texas hold ’em,” Wayne said.

“My favorite,” Alex said.

“You play much poker, Alex?” The question came from Jim.

“Whenever I get the chance.”

Rick explained the rules. “No one’s allowed to lose more than twenty dollars. Once your twenty bucks is gone, you gotta just watch.”

The first hand was a dud for Alex. Dealt the three of hearts and nine of spades, he immediately folded.

P.J., on the other hand, had a pair of jacks in the hole and when the river card was a third jack, the pot was hers.

“That was nice,” she said as she scooped up her winnings.

“For you, maybe,” grumbled Jim.

Alex smothered a smile. Most men hated losing to a woman. A lot of women might have made a disparaging remark, saying something like, “Oh, I was just lucky,” but not her. She grinned happily, quite obviously pleased with herself.

Of course, considering her background, it didn’t surprise him that she had so much self-confidence or that she wasn’t falsely modest. It was funny how now that he knew who she really was, he could see evidence of it in everything she said and did.

Rick dealt the next hand. Alex’s hole cards were the two red kings. Wayne folded immediately, throwing his cards down in disgust. P.J. bet the minimum and Jim called. Then it was Alex’s turn. He had decided not to raise, because he didn’t want to give his hand away. He’d wait and see what happened with the flop. “Call,” he said.

The flop consisted of the Queen of Spades, the deuce of clubs and the eight of diamonds. P.J. again bid the minimum and Jim raised. Alex called again, and P.J. threw her money in, staying with the hand.

When the turn card was another eight, Jim couldn’t disguise his excitement. Alex figured he probably had two eights in the hole. He almost folded, but then threw in his money. He’d stayed this long, he might as well see what the river brought. What it brought was the Queen of Hearts. Disgusted, Alex finally folded. He was certain Jim had a full house.

But to his amazement—and Jim’s shock—after two more rounds of bidding and raising, P.J. revealed her hole cards to be the two missing queens.

That hand set the tone for the night. Alex was a good player—a very good player, in fact—yet he was outplayed by P.J., who was not only skillful but lucky, and who ended up the night’s big winner.

“See why we’re considering making this a men-only night?” Rick said, half-jokingly. “She cleans us out every time.”

P.J. grinned. “Better not try it. I have ways of retaliating, you know.”

As they got ready to leave, there was the sound of a car in the driveway, and a few minutes later the back door opened. A pretty dark-haired woman holding a sleeping child walked into the dining room.

“Hey, Lauren,” chorused the men.

Lauren smiled and said hello. Her gaze moved to Alex.

“Honey,” Wayne said, “this is Alex Noble. He works with us. Alex, my wife, Lauren, and that’s our rug rat, Billy, sleeping on her shoulder.” Wayne’s smile was proud. “He was a year old last week.”

“Hi, Lauren,” Alex said. “Nice to meet you.”

By now, P.J. had gotten up and walked over to where Lauren and the baby stood. “Wow, he’s grown,” she said softly, touching his silky dark hair. Her smile was tender as she peeked at him. “He gets cuter every day.”

Lauren smiled and Wayne beamed. “And smarter,” Wayne said.

“And more demanding,” Lauren said. “He actually thinks he runs this household.”

P.J. chuckled. “And I’d be willing to bet he does.”

Wayne made a face.

“Well,” Rick said. “We’d better be going. Let you people get to bed.”

As Alex drove home, he kept thinking about P.J. How she’d looked that night—her face flushed with excitement, her hair tumbling out of its clips, her eyes sparkling. He thought about how they came from similar backgrounds and spoke the same language. He thought about how smart she was and how good with people and what a wicked game of poker she played. But mostly, he thought about how she’d looked and acted toward little Billy. It was obvious she loved kids.

That was a huge factor to Alex, because even if Harry hadn’t made having a child part of the challenge he’d issued, Alex definitely wanted children. In fact, he wanted lots of them.

And from what he’d seen tonight, it looked as if P.J. felt exactly the same way.