The Billionaire Renegade
The Billionaire Renegade
Catherine Mann
All this cowboy wants is a temporary affair…Billionaire rancher Conrad Steele wants Felicity Hunt in his bed—no strings attached. He’s been left at the altar before and won’t make the same mistake twice. Until a night of passion changes everything…
All this cowboy wants is a temporary affair.
He’s playing with fire.
Billionaire rancher Conrad Steele wants Felicity Hunt in his bed—no strings attached. He’s been left at the altar before and won’t make the same mistake twice. But the savvy divorcée keeps her body and heart on lockdown, even when planning her hospital’s charity event means spending long, intimate hours with the tempting tycoon. Until a night of passion changes everything...
USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN has won numerous awards for her novels, including both a prestigious RITA
Award and an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. After years of moving around the country bringing up four children, Catherine has settled in her home state of South Carolina, where she’s active in animal rescue. For more information, visit her website, catherinemann.com (http://www.catherinemann.com).
Also by Catherine Mann (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
The Baby Claim
The Double Deal
The Love Child
The Twin Birthright
The Second Chance
The Rancher’s Seduction
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Billionaire Renegade
Catherine Mann
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09200-5
THE BILLIONAIRE RENEGADE
© 2018 Catherine Mann
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Barbara Collins Rosenberg—
an amazing agent and a dear friend.
Contents
Cover (#ue8562aa2-0d31-5158-9b97-ecfa4c7ad60d)
Back Cover Text (#u63894ee8-2f2e-573d-8b47-51d9773b54dd)
About the Author (#u772f9b41-cc28-52b8-add0-c7e2eac2a1a3)
Booklist (#u2154ebd1-53cc-570b-9a7b-7728b0eb54eb)
Title Page (#u52e0bfe0-6b70-5acc-8de7-22d5c08b8f37)
Copyright (#u059d50b6-237b-5755-b9fc-71b0d8750b6c)
Dedication (#uf1413d59-9c5b-51b1-9851-e63aae9ed57f)
One (#ud6a16ba9-81aa-5043-bfdc-90f672d597ac)
Two (#ucd47699e-e430-5493-804b-441676daaa53)
Three (#ubf7b4c1c-a4e6-50d0-939c-09efd0c05beb)
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Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
He was back.
Felicity Hunt didn’t need to see more than the buff-colored Stetson resting on his knee to know Conrad Steele hadn’t heeded her request that they stop seeing each other. The man threatened the balance she’d worked so hard to create in regaining her professional life after her divorce.
But the Alaskan oil magnate had a reputation for determination. The smooth-talking kind that persisted until he won.
Well, he wouldn’t win her.
Although he was sure pulling out all the stops to gain her attention today in the hospital’s enclosed memory garden.
Conrad was currently leading story time, pint-size patients gathered around him in a heart-tugging cluster.
On her way back from supervising a critically ill three-year-old who’d just entered the foster system, Felicity steeled her resolve to keep this man at arm’s length. Easier said than done. As a social worker at Anchorage General Hospital, she had a soft spot for her young clients.
Children sat in wheelchairs and on floor mats, wide-eyed with rapt attention focused on the cowboy spinning a tale about a magical horse. His deep voice rumbled over the words, the book all but dwarfed by his large hands. He kept it open for his audience to see, the current page containing a watercolor image of the horse with a blanket and saddle over its back.
A little girl raised her hand with a question. “What’s hanging off the saddle?”
“Those are stirrups, for the rider’s feet,” Conrad answered, tapping his boots on the floor. He then expanded the explanation with ease, his knowledge of all things equine shining through.
His gaze rose from the children, colliding with Felicity’s as she leaned against a pillar. The air crackled between them with a connection she should have been used to by now, but the potency still caught her unaware. Just a look not more than three heartbeats long left her shaken long after he returned his attention to the book.
God, he was handsome in a rugged, movie star way with a strong jaw and cheekbones. His dark hair was trimmed neatly, hints of silver at his temples tempting her fingers to stroke. And those eyes, pale blue like the hottest of flames.
He had broad shoulders that filled out his crisp white shirt just so, his suit coat draped over the back of the rolling chair. His red silk tie drew her attention to the strong column of his neck.
This was a man others leaned on.
She forced even breaths in and out, willing her heart rate to slow. The scent of plants and flowers mingled with the antiseptic smell of the highly sterilized space.
Fidgeting with the badge on her silver lanyard, Felicity knew she should walk right out of the memory garden, and she would, before he finished the story.
Meanwhile, she couldn’t stop thoughts of how she’d met Conrad, of how he’d pursued her with such flattering intensity. Her work as a county social worker had brought her to this hospital often, and his nephew had been dating a friend of Felicity’s who volunteered in the NICU. Felicity had finally caved and dated Conrad briefly, against her better judgment, but she’d broken things off just before Christmas and taking on a new job.
It was a dream come true being hired on as a hospital social worker for underage patients. The recent change offered all the more reason she needed to stay focused on her career, and not on romance. Her broken marriage had left her full of crushing heartbreak. The grief had taken its toll on her at the office, crippling her concentration. She’d labored long and hard to rebuild her résumé. She refused to endure another setback in her professional—or personal—life.
After Conrad closed the last page of the book, he turned over story time to a volunteer with puppets. Felicity let go of her lanyard, her fingers numb. She’d gripped it so hard the ridges bit into her skin.
She’d waited too long, lost in thoughts of this man. If she moved quickly, she could still make an escape...
But wouldn’t that delay the inevitable?
She couldn’t just walk away today without confronting Conrad about his refusal to give her space. Her heart sped.
Conrad slid on his suit jacket, then scooped up his Stetson and overcoat. He wove his way through the audience, past geraniums spilling over the side of terra-cotta planters, massive urns with trees and a babbling stone fountain. While the puppeteer set up her portable stage, children stretched and wriggled, mats rustling and IV poles clinking. Conrad paused, leaning to answer a question from a young girl with a bandanna covering her bald head, then continued his journey across the indoor garden.
And his eyes were locked on Felicity.
Felicity exhaled hard, her heart double-timing against her will. He didn’t miss a beat in his beeline to her, his long legs eating up the space between them, boots thudding on the tile floor.
“Hello,” he said simply, his head dipping low enough his breath caressed her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
She bit her lip and struggled to keep her gaze off his mouth and on his eyes, memories of their brief time together bombarding her. “We should step out. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the performance.”
Taped flute music started as the puppeteer slid into place behind the stage. The children stilled for the rest of the entertainment.
Conrad opened the door leading out of the memory garden and into the busy hallway, winter coat draped over his arm. Staff in scrubs mixed with visitors in street clothes, and the flow of human traffic streamed both ways, the opposing currents somehow weaving around each other fluidly. The wide corridor sported a wall of windows showcasing a snowplow making its way through the lot beside a towering parking garage.
Conrad clasped her elbow and guided her to a nook lined with vending machines. The simple touch set her body on fire. His equally hot gaze made her feel like a siren in spite of her businesslike pin-striped skirt and ruffled white blouse.
He planted a hand on the wall, his shoulders blocking out the corridor, making a public space suddenly intimate. “Congratulations on your new job.”
So he did know, probably from her friend Tally Benson, who was dating Marshall Steele—Conrad’s nephew. Felicity had the confirmation. His time here wasn’t coincidental. He was looking for her.
Frustration—and an unwanted tingle of pleasure—filled her. “Tally told you?”
“Marshall did,” Conrad acknowledged. “I didn’t know you were looking to make a change at work.”
She struggled to focus on his words, difficult to do with the spicy scent of him filling her every breath.
“I wasn’t unhappy at my other position, but this is a dream job of mine.” All the more reason she needed to keep her focus narrowed.
“They’re lucky to have you.” His hand was close enough to stroke her hair, but he didn’t move.
The phantom touch, the promise, was just as potent.
Enough polite chitchat. “Why are you here? I’m not buying this sudden interest of yours for story time with sick children.”
“You didn’t want our date from the bachelor auction last month, so I’m fulfilling the time purchased here.”
She’d been irate when he’d paid the money in her name for his time at the charity bachelor auction. She didn’t like being manipulated. Another reason she was irritated to see him here today, despite the way his nearness made her temperature spike.
Still, she couldn’t deny he was doing a good thing for the patients, many of them here long term in the pediatric oncology ward. “That’s very altruistic of you. What made you think of reading books instead of something like volunteering in the gift shop?”
“I like kids, even though I don’t have any of my own. I’ve always been a proud and involved uncle. And my family’s charity foundation is initiating a number of projects here at Anchorage General.”
Could that be true and she just hadn’t heard about it yet? Or was he making another excuse to pursue her because she’d had the nerve to say no to a Steele?
“What kinds of projects?”
“We’re starting with a program donating books to patients.” He answered without hesitation.
She believed him. About that much at least. “That’s a wonderful thing to do, but I need to make sure you know, my interest is not for sale.”
His easy smile faded. “Neither is my honor. My family has always supported this hospital out of gratitude for their top-notch care. My nieces and nephews were born here. My niece Naomi underwent cancer treatment here—and then went on to deliver her twins here. The book donation is a part of the new pilot program.”
“New pilot program?” she couldn’t resist asking, the professional in her intrigued. So much for playing it as cool and formidable as the Alaskan tundra.
“The Steele and Mikkelson families’ new charity foundation is looking for more ways to make a difference at the hospital. One of those ways is to provide children with new books, volumes they can keep so there’s no risk of germ cross-contamination with shared materials.”
How could she find fault with that plan? She couldn’t. “That’s really thoughtful. I’m sure the children and parents will be very grateful.”
Finances could become strained with long-term hospitalizations, so much so that even buying books was a luxury.
“Today’s package for each child included a copy of the story they just heard.” A half smile tugged on his mouth, those signature Steele eyes full of promise.
It had been a riveting tale, no question, especially when read by a larger-than-life cowboy. “You said ways—plural—of helping here. What else is the foundation doing?”
She was curious, yes. But she also needed to know where to avoid him so she didn’t keep testing her resolve where he was concerned.
“The vote was taken yesterday, so technically, it’s okay for me to share now even though the press release won’t go out until tomorrow.” His smile widened and her stringent resolve waned.
“Okay, I’ll admit it. You’ve got my interest—on a professional basis only.”
His brows shot up almost imperceptibly. “Of course.” His smile was confident—and sexy. “We’re making a donation to the oncology ward in honor of my niece. They’ll be renaming it, to be made official at a dinner for the hospital board of directors and the charity foundation board.”
His words sunk in. This wasn’t a simple book drop-off or some quickly concocted plan to bump into her in passing. He and his family’s charitable foundation had a genuine, vested interest in being a part of this hospital’s financial landscape.
Realization filled her with the inescapable truth—and she couldn’t deny a shiver of excitement. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”
Stetson in hand, Conrad watched Felicity walk away in a huff down the hospital corridor.
He was definitely getting under her skin, and that was a good thing. Damn straight, he wasn’t going anywhere. He had wanted her since the first time he’d seen her. He’d worked to win her over since then, not an easy task as she was still stinging from her divorce. But then, he wasn’t one to shy away from a battle.
Letting his gaze linger on her, he stepped away from the vending machines and back into the flow of foot traffic in the wide corridor, winter coat over his arm. Felicity’s sleek brown hair was pulled back into a neat French twist, midday sunlight through the window reflecting off honey-colored streaks.
Her pin-striped skirt was both professional yet also appealing in an understated way as it hugged her curves, sweeping down to touch the top of her knee-length leather boots. The ruffles on her blouse drew his eyes to her neck and wrists. Not that it took much to bring his attention to her.
He was selective, dating professional women who weren’t interested in a walk down the aisle. He’d had a brief marriage and a near miss, having been left at the altar by his fiancée. His attempts at happily-ever-after had left him gun-shy.
Then when his older brother had lost his wife and child in a plane crash, seeing his brother’s unrelenting grief had cemented Conrad’s resolution to stay single. He’d devoted himself to helping bring up his nieces and nephews. He loved kids. It hadn’t been a hardship to lend a hand to his overburdened big brother, Jack. Conrad was fifteen years younger and had energy and time to spare. He couldn’t help wondering, though, if the fact that his brother’s kids were grown now attributed to some restlessness on Conrad’s part.
His gaze zoned back in on Felicity as she stepped into an elevator. She certainly had his attention and he imagined she would have at any time in his life. He’d hoped things would go a little more smoothly today, but he also enjoyed a good challenge.
He started toward the elevators just as the double set of electric doors opened, a blast of cold air gusting inside. A familiar face stopped him short. Marshall. His nephew. The middle child in Jack Steele’s brood, Marshall was a bit of a recluse, preferring to oversee the original homestead ranch. He’d never voiced an interest in the day-to-day operations of the family’s oil business.
They’d all had to step up, though, when Jack Steele had become engaged to the widowed matriarch of their corporate rival, the Mikkelson family. Shortly after that, Jack had suffered a fall from a horse that could have killed him, but didn’t. Still, it had left him with a recovery from spinal surgery that had lasted months.
Even though Jack had married Jeannie Mikkelson, the family had still been in turmoil at a critical juncture in the merger into the combined companies that became Alaska Oil Barons Inc., with stock prices fluctuating as a result. They needed to provide a unified, stable front. Hopefully the charity foundation—with both the Steeles and Mikkelsons at the helm—would help blend the families while also reassuring investors.
Marshall closed the last few feet between them, shaking snow off the brim of his hat. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” They were all still a little jumpy after Jack’s accident, and then Shana Mikkelson’s aneurysm. A larger family meant more cause for concern as well as happiness. “I was delivering the books to the children’s ward, am just finishing up reading one.”
“Seriously? I suspect a different agenda here.” Marshall’s brown eyes narrowed, the quiet perception in the depths so like the gaze of Marshall’s mother, who’d died in a plane crash. “Felicity’s working here full-time now, isn’t she?”
“I recall reading to you when you were a kid,” Conrad dodged neatly.
“As I recall, you were doing it then for extra credit for your high school English class.”
He waved dismissively. “Two birds with one stone. I’m a multitasker.”
“Ah, like today.” Marshall held up a hand. “No worries if you don’t want to talk about Felicity. I’m here to pick up Tally and take her to lunch. Are you still coming by tomorrow with Nanuq and Shila?”
He’d been housing a couple of horses for Marshall since one of his two barns had burned and he needed some flex space for his animals while the rebuilding was under way. The aesthetics weren’t complete, but the stalls were secure and warm. Nanuq and Shila, which meant white bear and flame, were ready for transport.
“Absolutely. See you then.”
In fact, he could use a ride to work out the tension he would no doubt feel after the impending confrontation with Felicity. Before the day was out, she would learn just how closely they would be working together.
Striding down the hospital corridor toward her office, Felicity wished it was as easy to haul her thoughts away from the first-floor lobby and one big sexy distraction in a Stetson.
But then her nerves had been a mess since she’d bumped into Conrad. She needed to get herself together before the meeting with her new boss. Felicity wove by a nurse with a vitals cart and a cluster of visitors lost in their conversation.
Her new supervisor had been cryptic about the reason for the meeting other than to say it was about a way for Felicity to make a mark in her job. Her interest was piqued. She couldn’t get there fast enough. Looking down to pull her notes from her portfolio bag, she nearly slammed into someone—
Tally Benson, waving at her.
“Hello there,” her friend exclaimed in surprise. “I’m just finishing up volunteering. I thought I wasn’t going to see you today. How’s the new job?”
“I’m excited about the opportunity.” The words sounded hollow in Felicity’s mouth, making her wonder why she bothered faking emotions with her friends. Back in high school, she’d briefly tried out for a school production of King Lear because her foster mom loved Shakespeare. During the course of her tryouts, Felicity had realized masking her feelings required a lot more work than actors onstage and on-screen made it out to be.
Strangely, during her work, she’d never had to fake an emotion she didn’t feel. Her deep well of empathy supplied her strength as she moved through the difficult spaces of social work.
Today, she felt like that high schooler reading lines. The words didn’t match her body’s articulation of apprehension, intrigue.
“Then why are you frowning?” Tally scrunched her nose.
Felicity adjusted her lanyard, unable to resist asking, “Did you know that Conrad is reading to the kids in pediatrics?”
She opted to dodge the question that had too much of a matchmaking vibe. “I’ve heard the family’s charitable foundation has big plans for the hospital.”
And that level of donation couldn’t be a simple romantic ploy. Renaming a wing involved a significant amount of money. She felt small for having accused him of reading to the kids for show.
Felicity forced a smile. “The hospital is lucky to have such a generous benefactor.”
“To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by the family. There are so many of them.” And the redhead would certainly know that since not too long ago she’d been hired to help Marshall around the house while he recovered from a broken arm. Now they were a couple. “But the charity foundation has been a rewarding way to get to know them.”
When the Steele patriarch had married his rival’s widow, the business world had been full of reports about the merger of their two companies and there had been fluctuations in the market with concerns about who would take the helm. There still hadn’t been an official announcement of who would be the CEO for the newly formed Alaska Oil Barons Inc., but she’d heard rumblings they were closing in on a choice.
“Oh,” Felicity remembered, reaching into her portfolio bag, “I have your letter of recommendation ready.” She had convinced Tally to apply for a scholarship to pursue a degree in social work. The woman was a natural.
Tally’s smile beamed, her eyes watering. “Thank you.” She took the envelope, sliding it carefully into her purse. “Your support and encouragement means the world to me. I’m afraid to get my hopes up that I’ll get in, much less receive the scholarship.”
Hope was a scary thing, no question. Felicity remembered too well how difficult it had been to trust in a positive future after her divorce. “I’m rooting for you. Let me know the minute you hear.”
“I will,” Tally promised, giving her a quick hug. “I should let you go. Let’s do lunch soon and catch up. My treat.”
“Sounds great. Let’s keep in touch...” Felicity backed away with a smile and a wave before spinning toward her new office. She lifted her key card and swiped her way into the space—all hers with a window of her own. She could see the snowy mountains and make the most of what little daylight there was during an Alaska winter. She still had boxes stacked in the corner, but had started unpacking the most important items first. Starting with a bulletin board of thank-you notes from parents and newly adopted clients, along with a few childishly drawn pictures she’d framed. These meant more to her than any accolades, seeing how her work made life better for children who were helpless.
She understood the feeling too well.
Swallowing back a wad of emotion, she searched through the stack of files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for under a brass paperweight, a Texas buffalo. She glanced at the clock and gasped. She needed to get moving.
She locked her door, then raced down the hall toward the elevator bank, her leather boots scuffing against the tile floor in her speed. Just ahead, an elevator door began to slide close.
“Wait,” she called. “Please hold that elevator.”
A hand shot out and the doors bumped back open. Sighing in relief, she angled through sideways.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I’m running late for a meeting.”
A masculine voice chuckled from the other side of the packed elevator.
A familiar masculine voice.
She closed her eyes. “Hello, Conrad.”
What were the odds?
Gathering her composure, she opened her eyes to find him standing next to a young nurse who was making no effort to hide checking him out. And he gave no acknowledgment to the flirtatious behavior, which Felicity had to admit moved her. He dated widely, but she’d never heard a negative word about him from other women.
Damn it. She didn’t need these thoughts. “Fifth floor, please.”
She made a point of reviewing the proposal she wanted to give her boss about a new playlist of music and movies for the children in oncology during treatment time.
The elevator slid open again and the cluster of occupants departed, leaving Felicity alone with Conrad. It must have been too much to hope for that he would leave too and make this easier on her. Another part of her whispered that his presence shouldn’t bother her this much.
He stepped up alongside her. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”
She tucked her papers away. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t you want to know more about the foundation’s plans for the hospital?”
She looked up sharply, her gaze colliding with his. A shiver rippled through her as the spicy scent of his aftershave filled her breaths in the small confines of the elevator. Quite simply put, he was yummy, and also offering information she craved.
“I’m intrigued. But I have to say no thank you to dinner.”
He chuckled softly.
“Laughing at me certainly isn’t going to win me over.”
“Trust me, I’m not laughing at you. You do amuse me, but it’s your wit, which I admire and find sexy as hell.” He grinned at her. “Am I doing better?”
Sighing, she searched his face, his too-damn-handsome face. “I don’t understand why you’re still pursuing me.”
“You’re just that amazing.” His eyes held hers again, stirring more of those tingles up and down her spine, making her imagine what it would be like to lean into him, just a hint.
The elevator doors slid open, the movement and people on the other side jarring her out of her daze. Securing her bag, she stepped forward. There was no denying the attraction between them. That had never been in question.
Even now, she could swear she felt the warmth of him just behind her. Because she did.
He’d followed her out of the elevator, on the very floor of her meeting with her boss about an exciting new opportunity. On the very day Conrad had mentioned his family’s charity foundation beginning new endeavors at Anchorage General. With the children. Foreboding swelled through her.
Gesturing forward, Conrad smiled. “It’s going to be a pleasure working together.”
Two (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
Conrad knew better than to push his luck.
He held the door open for Felicity on their way back out of her boss’s office an hour later. Follow-up meetings had been scheduled for brainstorming potential initiatives for the Steele-Mikkelson charity foundation, to best utilize their donations. They just needed to coordinate with Isabeau Mikkelson for times that worked for her as well, since she was the foundation’s official PR person.
Their primary goal? To have a prospectus in place to unveil at the banquet for the board next month. The next four weeks would offer the perfect opportunities to win over Felicity.
And if she still said no after that? He didn’t want to believe that would happen. But he also wasn’t a jerk. It wasn’t like the two of them had fallen in love at first sight.
Still, he was certain they could have one hell of an affair.
He stopped at the elevator, the set of her shoulders telling him he’d pushed his luck far enough for one day. He pulled out his phone and stepped away from the sliding doors. She shot a surprised look his way and he stifled a smile, surfing his emails by the window to check for updates before heading back to the office.
An hour later, he strode down the corridors of the Alaska Oil Barons Inc.’s corporate offices. He served on the board of directors for his brother’s company, while maintaining an investment business of his own.
Windows along the length of the corridor overlooked the frozen harbor. The other wall was lined with framed artistic photographs of the Alaskan countryside. This building had been the Steele offices, and since the merger, it was the primary headquarters. The Mikkelson tower was still open and filled to capacity, and the styles of the two offices had begun to merge. The chrome decor of the Steele building now sported some metal-tipped teak pieces.
Conrad opened the conference room door. The lengthy table was already more than halfway full. At the head, his brother, Jack sat, beside his new wife, Jeannie Mikkelson-Steele, whose influence extended well beyond changes to the furniture.
Jack leaned back in his seat, waving his brother into the room. “We’re just waiting for Naomi to arrive. How did things go at the hospital?”
Conrad rolled a chair away from the table and placed his briefcase on the sleek, polished wood. “The kids were grateful for the books and the story time.”
Jack smiled slowly. “I was talking about the meeting with Felicity Hunt, her boss and the hospital’s PR director.”
Taking his seat, Conrad used the excuse of pulling out paperwork to delay answering the question. The last thing he needed was an overeager family spooking Felicity.
From his briefcase, he pulled an extra copy of the children’s book he’d read at the hospital. He passed the paperback to Glenna Mikkelson-Steele—Jeannie’s oldest daughter. “I brought this for Fleur.”
To everyone’s surprise, Glenna had married Jack’s oldest son, who many had thought would assume the family helm. But Broderick had held firm to his position of splitting the CFO duties with his wife so they could focus on their growing family. Everyone in the family was stretched thin, and the acting CEO had moved to North Dakota for a less taxing position so he could spend more time with his wife and start a family.
The board was in final talks trying to lure Ward Benally from the competition. Landing him would be a coup. He worked for a rival company and was a respected—and feared—leader in the oil industry. Benally was also a tough negotiator—which made hammering out a contract a challenge, but it would be a boon if they pulled it off.
Conrad was doing his best to help his family through the transition of the merger. He slid another copy to the far end of the table where Trystan Mikkelson—black sheep of the family—sat with his very pregnant wife. The company’s PR consultant, Isabeau Mikkelson, rested one hand on her very pregnant stomach and her other hand on her service dog’s head. The Labrador retriever assisted in alerting to Isabeau’s diabetes, especially important with a baby on the way.
Jack snagged an extra copy from his brother’s briefcase, fanning through the pages. “And your meeting?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Conrad evaded while pulling his tablet from his briefcase. “I attended. We discussed data and look forward to having Isabeau at the next meeting.”
“And Felicity was okay with being the point person with you when Isabeau’s unavailable?” Jack pressed.
Couldn’t his brother have brought this up away from all these prying eyes? “She’s professional. And this is business.”
Jack grinned. “Would you have volunteered for the charity board if she wasn’t involved?”
Conrad snapped his case shut. “I’ve always been loyal to the family.” That went without saying. Although it was best to go ahead and address the elephant in the room. “I’m not denying I want to spend more time with her. It’s nice how life lines up sometimes.”
Saving him from further questions, Naomi Steele-Miller pushed open the door. His niece had faced death as a teen and many had thought she wouldn’t survive cancer. Conrad hadn’t been sure how his brother would make it through losing another child after Breanna. Thank God, that hadn’t happened.
And as it turned out, he hadn’t lost Breanna either.
Standing, Conrad pulled out a chair for his niece. Brea and Naomi had looked so much alike as children. How was it that they’d all missed any resemblance when Breanna, posing as Milla Jones, had taken a job as a receptionist? Of course, her hair had been bleached blond. Could they have all been thrown off by something that simple?
Although Brea and Naomi were fraternal twins, not identical.
Naomi pulled her chair into place. “Thank you for being patient. Sorry I’m late. It took longer to settle the girls than I expected.”
Conrad snagged another copy of the children’s book and passed it to his niece. An attorney for Alaska Oil Barons Inc., she had only just started coming to work without her twin daughters in a double stroller. She and her husband worked from home as much as possible. Her husband, Royce, was a research scientist for the corporation.
Jack took a swallow from his water glass before starting. “No need to apologize, Naomi. Everyone else only just arrived.”
Everyone?
Strangely, there were no other board members there—or rather, no one who wasn’t a family member. Could this meeting have a different agenda?
Jack cupped the glass, his jaw tight. “Shana called with an update into the investigation.”
Conrad straightened in his seat. Shana and Chuck Mikkelson were taking a train ride to North Dakota to house hunt for their upcoming move. Chuck was taking a job heading up offices at that end of the pipeline. For her to call, it must have been important. All eyes were trained on Jack.
“Milla Jones—Brea—has made contact through an attorney. She’s willing to talk as long as there’s legal representation present.”
Conrad couldn’t miss the toll this was taking on his older brother. Stark lines fanned from his eyes, dark circles underneath.
Jack shook his head, scraping his hand through his hair. “She’s our Brea, but she wants lawyers to be involved in the reunion? It’s so surreal.”
Jeannie rested a hand on her husband’s arm. “She’s been gone a long time. There’s no telling what she’s been through. Let’s focus on the fact she’s reached out.”
Broderick snorted in disgust. “Because she got word we were closing in on her.”
“That’s rather cynical,” Jack said.
“I’m just setting realistic expectations, Dad. No matter who she is, we can’t forget she was leaking corporate secrets before she ran away without a word to any of us.”
Jack pushed his water glass away. “No matter what happened when she came here as Milla Jones, she is our Breanna. Nothing is more important than that.”
Nods made their way around the table, some more reluctant than others.
Jeannie rolled her chair back. “Let’s break for a few, get our heads in the game again, then reconvene to discuss the latest round of contract negotiations with Ward Benally.”
A wise suggestion to take a breather, given the tension pulsing from both the Steeles and the Mikkelsons. There’d been recent allegations made that someone in the Mikkelson family could have been involved in Brea’s disappearance. It seemed inconceivable, but then so did the possibility that Brea could truly be alive.
These days, anything was possible.
Conrad tossed his tablet into his briefcase. Since he’d weighed in with his written feedback, Conrad took the opportunity to step out of this portion of the meeting.
Once back in the corridor, he turned on his cell and it immediately buzzed with missed calls and texts.
And right at the top of the list of those who’d phoned?
Felicity Hunt.
Felicity tried not to stare at her phone on her kitchen counter.
Calling Conrad had been an impulsive move, which was surprising in and of itself since she wasn’t the impulsive type. But when a friend from work had texted her with questions about a rumor regarding Breanna Steele... Felicity had found herself remembering a discussion with Conrad about how devastating his niece’s disappearance had been for him.
Felicity punched in Conrad’s number before she could think.
Property in Alaska was costly and social workers didn’t bring in large paychecks. Since she lived alone and spent most of her free time at work, it made sense to rent a one-bedroom apartment. She hadn’t brought anything from Texas with her anyway, preferring to leave all her furniture and the bad memories associated with it behind her.
Her living area was tight, but comfy, with a generic tan sofa alongside a space-saver rattan chair, and her one indulgence—a fat, raspberry-colored reading chair perched by the window and under a skylight. She missed her Texas sun but couldn’t deny the magnificence of the views here were unrivaled.
She’d wanted a place far from memories of her painful past, and she’d found a haven here.
Turning back to her coffeepot, she tapped the “water only” feature to make tea. She pulled a mug from the cabinet, a stoneware piece she’d bought at a local festival. Leaving her belongings behind had offered the opportunity to explore new styles and reinvent herself.
She’d kept the most important things in her life, letters from people who cared about her. Foster siblings. Her final foster parents. A social worker who’d made a world of difference in her life.
Her work meant everything to her. She still couldn’t ever turn her back on the career that gave her purpose. Her life’s calling was to make the same difference for helpless children.
A mantra she repeated to herself daily.
More than once daily lately, since Conrad Steele had entered her world.
She blew in her tea before taking a sip. The warmth soothed her nerves.
Her phone chimed, and she reached for the cell while lifting her mug for another drink. The name on the screen stilled her hand.
Conrad Steele.
Her heart leaped at the incoming call, too much. But she wasn’t going to play games by making it ring longer. She was an adult.
She thumbed the speakerphone. “Hello, Conrad.”
“I see I missed a call from you.”
In spite of insisting to herself this was no big deal, she found herself tongue-tied. “I don’t want to be presumptuous. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Things are still on track for the hospital donations. No need to be concerned.”
She hated that he thought her reason for calling could be only self-serving. “I heard there’s news about your niece. I don’t want to pry and invade your family’s privacy, but I thought of you—”
“You’re not prying. You’re being thoughtful. Thank you. I know you have ties to the family through your friendship with Tally. You care.”
“I do.”
His heavy exhale filled the phone. “Brea has reached out. We don’t know the full story as to where she’s been and why she came back the way she did, pretending to be someone else. But at least we’re going to have answers.”
“This has to be so difficult for you.”
“My brother is tied in knots,” he said tightly.
She knew him well enough to realize how deeply this would affect him, too. He was close to his family. One of the things that drew her to him. “And you’re taking a backseat to your own feelings since you’re an uncle.”
“Are you using those counselor skills on me?”
“It’s second nature, I guess.” She just hadn’t thought she was quite so transparent. Or maybe he was that perceptive. Either way, she needed to choose her words more carefully.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you again for the concern,” he said softly before continuing. “Was there another reason for your call?”
She needed to work with him, but also needed him to understand her position. “I got a text from a coworker with information I thought I should pass along.”
“What kind of information?”
“The rumors are already churning about Milla Jones possibly being your missing niece. Photos of Milla—Brea—have been circulating.”
“Yes, we had those released when we first started our investigation.”
“Everyone in the break room has been talking about the volunteer who filed a report about the same woman delivering flowers to patients one night.” She toyed with her lanyard. “The volunteer said she plans to notify your family, but I wanted to make sure you knew.”
“Delivering flowers? That’s strange.”
“My friend said a volunteer came to her and explained she was approached by Milla and paid a large sum of money to loan her volunteer smock. Unethical on so many levels, which is why she didn’t come forward sooner.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Last fall. I’m sure the Steele family will be notified through official channels soon.”
“Last fall? That’s around the time when Naomi’s twins were born.”
A chill went through her to think of Breanna Steele stalking the halls incognito to see her twin’s newborn babies. Hospital security was paramount, especially in the maternity ward. The babies all wore bracelets that would set off alarms if they were taken from the floor. But still. This was more than a little unsettling.
What had happened to Breanna that caused her to distrust her own family so deeply? A sense of foreboding rolled over Felicity, born of too many years on the job, telling her that finding the woman wasn’t going to bring an easy, happy reunion.
Conrad cleared his throat. “Thank you for sharing that information. I’ll pass it along.”
“I hope it helps in some way.”
“Every piece of this crazy puzzle is helpful.” He paused for a moment. “Was there something else?”
“Actually, yes. I want us to start fresh for the good of the hospital project.”
“What do you mean by starting fresh?”
“A working friendship, on neutral ground.” She couldn’t be any more succinct than that.
“I’ve made it clear I want more. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“And it’s clear we have to work together. I can be professional.” She hoped. If only he wasn’t so damn hot.
Except she knew it was more than that. There were plenty of attractive men in the workplace and she didn’t find herself tempted by them, not in the way this man seemed to seep into her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to put him out of her mind.
“Okay, then,” he continued, “do you ride?”
She couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Do I know how to ride? I’m a Texan.”
His chuckle sent a thrill up her spine.
“Alright, then, Felicity. I’m helping exercise my nephew’s horses while his second barn is rebuilt. Bundle up and join me.”
It was just horseback riding. Not like a romantic dinner out.
And still, she found herself far too excited at the prospect of spending more time with a tempting man she’d vowed never to see again.
Conrad had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to get Felicity’s voice out of his head. Attraction was one thing. Total loss of focus? That was unacceptable.
He’d worn himself out in his home gym in preparation for her arrival in hopes of giving himself a much-needed edge.
Warmth from the shower still clung to his skin as he made his way across his in-home basketball court. Stretching his arms overhead, he exhaled hard as he closed the distance to the door. He combed his fingers through his damp hair, anticipation zinging through him over this outing with Felicity.
Opening the door, he left the harsh fluorescent lights of his gym behind. As his eyes adjusted to the gentler light in his wood-paneled living room, his boots thudded on the pine flooring as he picked his way around the large area rug and black-and-tan sectional. Light filtered in from the large windows, filling the oversize tray ceiling.
Yanking his heavy coat off the rack and snagging his black Stetson, he opened his door and shrugged into the wool coat, which still had the lingering scent of antiseptic and hand sanitizer from all his time at the hospital. Even a pine-scented gust of wind that caused snow to stir slightly didn’t completely dissipate the hospital smell.
It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, though. The smell reminded him of Felicity. The sexy social worker who’d agreed to meet him today at the small barn that loomed slightly to the north. To call it small felt like a misnomer. More like, small as far as his family’s standards went. There was room for only ten horses and one tack room. But large, relatively speaking. He lived a good life.
Snow covered the tiered roof, icicles spiking from the eaves. Three horses trotted around the front paddock. Literally frolicking in the snow. Sally, the oldest mare he owned, played with an oversize ball. Careening around it like a little filly. The old chestnut mare still so full of life and wonder.
His brother had a larger barn with more rides, but then, he had children. Conrad had his horse and mounts for his nieces and nephews to ride when they came over. But he led a bachelor’s existence, more scaled back than his brother’s.
That wasn’t to say Conrad hadn’t once envisioned a life for himself with kids and a spread like his brother. But that wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d seen that clearly after the breakup of two significant relationships. He’d given it his best shot, only to get his heart stomped and the betrayal stung him still.
So he’d thrown himself into helping his brother. He’d watched Jack’s kids grow up, had helped with them as much as his brother would allow. Conrad led a full life.
His boots crunched in the snow as he moved toward the barn. Conrad opened the latch to the climate-controlled stable. Warmth brushed against his cheeks as he grabbed the necessary tack for today’s ride. He placed the saddles one by one on the built-in saddle racks on the walls of the barn. Hung the bridles next to them. He returned to the tack room for grooming supplies. Settled into his routine.
A whinny emerged from down the barn. Jackson, his palomino stallion, poked his golden head out. Ears flicking in anticipation, matching Conrad’s own pent-up energy. Setting the grooming supplies down, he moved toward his horse. Gave the stallion a scratch behind the ears as he slipped the leather halter over Jackson’s head.
Leading the palomino to the first crossties, he clipped the golden horse. Jackson adjusted his weight, popping his front right hoof on an angle, and let out a sigh that seemed almost bored. Of all the horses Conrad had ever worked with, he’d never come across one with so much personality. And a personality that matched his so well.
Giving the horse another scratch, Conrad determined which ride he would choose for Felicity. Glancing around the barn, he settled on Patches. A quiet, steady pinto gelding, well mannered.
Conrad retrieved Felicity’s mount and began grooming Patches first. As he finished grooming the pinto, he heard the distinct sound of a car engine approach and then fall silent.
A few moments later, Felicity walked into the barn. He was half-surprised she’d shown. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt as he was struck by her natural beauty, the curves visible even through her snow gear.
Her brown hair was swept into a thick braid draped over one shoulder. Her deep purple parka matched her snow pants. Her scarf was loose around her neck, but long enough to cover her face if the wind picked up.
She tugged the ends of the fringed scarf tighter as she approached him. “Well, hello, Conrad. I have to confess, I didn’t expect this.”
Her eyes flitted to the open door behind her, gaze lingering on his one-story home, which overlooked a mountain range.
“What did you expect?” He finished currycombing Jackson, who stretched his neck out far, releasing a shuddering shake from ears to tailbone. Conrad bent over, hoof pick in hand, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.
“I envisioned you living in a penthouse condo. Not a...well, a home.”
“Technically, this—” he motioned around the space “—is a barn.”
She laughed, the wind through the open door carrying a whiff of her citrus scent, mixing with the familiar smell of leather and hay. “You’re right. It is. But I was referring to your house, as well.”
Interesting how she saw space when he thought of his estate as scaled back. Releasing Jackson’s hoof, Conrad made his way to the door. Shut it to keep out the cold. No use freezing before they started riding.
“It’s not the size of my brother’s, but I don’t need as much room.”
“It’s still very spacious, especially by Alaska standards with property being so expensive.” She winced, setting her leather bag on the recessed shelving near where the saddles hung. She positioned the bag near the helmets he’d always made children wear. “That was crass of me to mention money.”
“Not at all. High real estate prices here are a fact.” Hefting Patches’s saddle and saddle pad off the rack, he slung the bridle over his shoulder.
A glance at Felicity’s wind-pinkened face filled his mind with thoughts of skimming kisses over her before claiming her mouth. The memory of her was powerful, so much so, it could tempt him to move too fast and risk the progress he’d made with her. Drawing in a steadying breath, he focused on the task of readying the horses.
As he moved toward the pinto, Patches’s ears flicked as if interested in the conversation at hand as the saddle settled on his back. Conrad was a hard worker, but plenty of people worked hard and didn’t have this kind of luxury. He knew luck had played in as well and he didn’t lose sight of that. After adjusting the girth, he slid the bit into the horse’s mouth, fiddling with the chin strap. He placed the reins on Patches’s neck. The well-trained horse didn’t move, but stood at attention as Conrad tacked up Jackson.
“Even in Texas, I grew up in smaller places, my parents’ apartment, then foster homes. This is incredible.”
He warmed at how she expressed appreciation for the life he’d built, rather than comparing it with Jack Steele’s sprawling compound. Conrad passed her the reins to Patches, the wind blowing the loose strands of her hair forward. His hands itched with the urge to stroke her hair back.
Too easily, he could lose himself in looking at her. But if he made a move, she would likely bolt.
Patience.
He offered her a leg up out of courtesy but also to determine her skill. He would be able to tell if she was as good a rider as she claimed by the way she sat in the saddle. How she positioned her body and weight.
Felicity seemed to be a natural.
Now confident she could hold her own, he led his horse out by the reins. The sun was high and bright, reflecting off the snow in a nearly blinding light. Closing the barn door behind him, he led Jackson a few steps away from the steel-reinforced door. Conrad pulled himself into the saddle, hands adjusting the reins by muscle memory.
Pressing his calves into Jackson’s sensitive side, he urged the horse toward an open gate. He figured this enclosed area would be safer—just in case Felicity lost her seat. Much easier to contain than potentially chasing Patches through the wilderness.
Felicity skillfully picked up the reins, bringing Patches to attention as she set her horse beside his. “Have you heard anything more about your niece?”
“We’ve locked down a time for Brea’s arrival. We’ll be meeting with her attorney present—at her request.” The hair on the back of his neck bristled at all the ways things could go badly.
“This can’t be easy for any of you.”
He pushed his weight in the saddle, grounding down. Nothing about Brea’s return had been something he could have imagined. At least not like this.
“We never dreamed we could have her back at all. We’re staying focused on the fact she’s alive.” Truthful, but it didn’t negate the hell of wondering what led her to infiltrate the company, to resent and mistrust them all to this degree.
“I hope it’s not awkward if I ask, but is there a chance her mother is alive, too?” An eagle soaring overhead cast a wide-wingspan shadow along the snow ahead of Felicity.
“No, none,” he said without hesitation. “Mary’s body was thrown from the plane. They were able to make a positive ID. With Brea, they only located teeth in the charred wreckage.”
It never got easier discussing that part of the aftermath.
She shivered. “Your family has been through so much.”
“Nothing guarantees life will be easy.” The glare of the sun along the icy pasture was so bright he shielded his eyes with his hand. “We’re just lucky to have each other for support along the way.”
“That’s a healthy outlook.”
Her words made him realize she was listening with a professional ear. “I recall you saying you became a social worker because of growing up in foster care. What made you decide to switch to the hospital position?”
Her posture grew surer as she answered him, guiding Patches around snow-covered bushes. “As a child, I saw what a difference a caring professional could make, in my life and in others’. There are so many components, from the caseworker, to the courts, and yes, too often, hospitals. This gave me another avenue to make a difference.”
“You’re certainly doing that.” He respected her devotion to her job, one of the many things that had attracted him to her. He’d thought her career focus would also make them a great pair. He’d thought wrong and needed to figure out another way around to win her.
“I’m grateful to your family for what they’re doing for the hospital.” Wind blew flurries around her horse’s hooves. “The children in oncology... I don’t need to spell out their needs for you. You saw it with your niece Naomi.”
“I did. What kinds of needs do you see for the children in the hospital?” he asked, to make the most of working together. And because he found he was genuinely curious in her input.
“That’s such a broad question.”
He tilted his head, looking forward on the trail in the pasture and checking for uneven ground that could be masked by the snow. “Say the first thing that pops into your head.”
“I have a list in my office on staffing and structural needs,” she said, still not answering his question.
But he understood how her professional instincts might be in play, not wanting to commit to an item when there was a more important need.
“Send me the list. I feel certain we can address those issues. What else?” he pressed. “Something you didn’t even imagine could go on your wish list.” He pushed Jackson into a slow trot, the palomino’s stride putting slight distance between them. Glancing over his shoulder, Conrad saw a determined smile settle on Felicity’s face.
Keeping her hands low on Patches’s neck, she clicked her tongue, coaxing the horse into a smooth jog. Though the horse’s pace increased, Felicity’s seat stayed steady. Flawless execution.
“Well, the children in behavioral health could use more pet therapy teams.”
Felicity’s roots might be Texan, but she held her own with the horse and the cold like she’d lived here her whole life. He was surprised and impressed. “We’re on it. Isabeau Mikkelson is on the committee for PR and she brought up that very subject in an earlier meeting.”
“She and her husband live on a ranch outside Juneau, right?”
“Yes, she just arrived in town today. They’re staying with the family during her last trimester of pregnancy. She’s high risk because of her diabetes, and they want to use the same doctor Naomi had for the delivery.”
“I’m glad they have the support of so many relatives. Are you sure she’s up to the task of helping with this?”
Even with Isabeau being high risk, he hadn’t considered something could go wrong. “She checked with her doctors first and got the okay. She’s been going stir-crazy taking off work and this was a good compromise. She’s been helping pick up slack, too, that would have been covered by Jeannie’s former assistant, Sage Hammond.”
“What happened to Sage?”
“She took a sudden sabbatical to Europe. Really left the family in a lurch, kind of surprising since she’s related to Jeannie.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Isabeau raised the idea of pet therapy since she has a service dog for her diabetes. Even though a service dog is different from a therapy dog, Isabeau’s a great resource on the topic. She’s familiar with the various roles a pet can play in health care.”
Felicity nodded. “A service dog performs a task for one person for life, and a therapy dog provides comfort in groups or for a number of different people individually.”
“Exactly. We’re looking into therapy dog programs for individual room visits as well as group settings. Having a couple of dogs present during reading time would be a great place to start.”
“That sounds wonderful. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this.” She glanced at him. “Your family, too. It’s not just a...”
“Not just a promotional tool? No. That’s not to say we aren’t happy for the good press, because our success gives us more charitable options.”
“I’ll do my best to be sure the money’s spent wisely so the foundation can do even more.”
“I’m sure you will.” Applying slight pressure with his reins, Conrad looped his horse back toward the barn. Created somewhat of a bad circle in the snow.
Felicity maneuvered Patches to follow him. “How are you so certain?”
“You were willing to come riding with me today in spite of pushing me away with both hands,” he said with a cocky grin.
Silence fell between them. The only sounds echoing in the air were the crunch of horse hooves against fresh snow.
She shook her head, her smile half amused. “I don’t dislike you.”
He laughed, appreciating how she didn’t dish out flattery just because he had money to donate. “Watch it, or my ego will overinflate with the lavish compliments.”
“I don’t mean to be rude. I just want to be sure we’re clear that this is business.”
He needed to make sure she understood. “I would never make a move without your consent.”
“But that’s not the same as continuing to pursue me,” she said with a wry smile, her cheeks turning red from the wind.
“You’re too perceptive for me to even try to deny that.”
“As long as you’re clear on where I stand.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tapped the brim of his Stetson, tipping it slightly in salute. “We should get back before your Texas roots freeze out here.”
They’d reached the gate again. Conrad guided Jackson through the opening. Though if he was being honest the horse knew it was time to return home. A renewed pep in his step, Jackson moved toward the barn. Patches let out a low nicker as they drew closer to the structure.
He’d made progress with Felicity and his quest. He’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t leverage the attraction between them until she gave him the green light. But he was a patient man. He could still spend time with her. Get to know her better. Persuade her that they could have something special.
In fact, he welcomed the challenge—as well as the distraction from the stress of his niece’s complicated return.
Three (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
Breanna Steele still struggled with thinking of herself by her birth name. She’d been Milla Jones for over fifteen years. It felt like longer, in fact, since the Brea days were distant, muddied by so many factors since the plane crash.
Pushing away her in-flight meal, she pressed her fingertips against the cool glass of the airplane window. Since the plane crash all those years ago, flying sent her stomach into knots. Particularly when the private jet was so small, just like that aircraft all those years ago. But the transportation had been chartered by the Steeles. Snow-covered mountains sent her nerves into overdrive so she returned her focus to the main cabin.
Her lawyer accompanied her, a young attorney who’d taken her case pro bono, looking to make a name for himself. He was cutthroat. All the more reason to trust him with a future so scary and unsure.
Taking the flight offered by the Steeles had made her nervous, but ultimately it was the logical thing to do. She’d also been very clear in her acceptance that she’d left safeguards in place if anything happened to her. The world would know exactly where she’d been.
People thought she was acting paranoid. She didn’t care.
She tore apart the roll, tossing the pieces into her bowl of uneaten salad. Stress had taken a toll on her appetite. Since the death of her “adoptive” parents last year, she’d been unable to resist searching for answers about her past. Her mind was a jumble. She’d been brought up by a couple—Steven and Karen Jones—who’d protected her from the threats of her family’s crooked connections.
She’d been told her Steele siblings died as well in the crash and the accident was such a haze, she’d believed it. Steven and Karen had insisted they were keeping Brea safe from threats existing in her birth father’s world.
Finding out after the Jones’s deaths that her real dad and her siblings were alive had been a shock, one that started a steamroll of questions about other things. Still, loyalty to Steven and Karen, who’d saved her, was tough to break. She’d told herself they lied about her siblings to keep her safe from her father, who’d orchestrated her biological mother’s death. Brea still believed that to a degree. So much so that she could only envision meeting with the Steeles with lawyers present for her safety—and so she didn’t end up in jail.
There was also the whole matter of her wrangling a job at Alaska Oil Barons Inc. under her fake name and leaking business secrets. She’d wanted revenge for their abandonment. Now she was beginning to realize things might not be that simple. But she still needed to be careful.
As the plane began its descent into Anchorage, she shivered. Afraid, but resolute. The time had come to face her past, to make peace so she could move forward free of any entanglements with the Steeles.
Free of the pain of realizing they never really searched for her.
Never could she be a part of the Steeles’ world of lies and a fake sense of family.
Felicity found disentangling her feelings when it came to Conrad Steele was easier said than done. Their simple ride together had left her more confused than ever.
Fidgeting with her long, silver necklace, she looked at her half-eaten turkey-and-hummus sandwich. She contemplated grabbing it off the pile of vintage travel books she’d used to decorate her office. Unlike her coworkers, Felicity didn’t have many pictures of family and loved ones plastered in every square inch of her office.
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Catherine Mann
All this cowboy wants is a temporary affair…Billionaire rancher Conrad Steele wants Felicity Hunt in his bed—no strings attached. He’s been left at the altar before and won’t make the same mistake twice. Until a night of passion changes everything…
All this cowboy wants is a temporary affair.
He’s playing with fire.
Billionaire rancher Conrad Steele wants Felicity Hunt in his bed—no strings attached. He’s been left at the altar before and won’t make the same mistake twice. But the savvy divorcée keeps her body and heart on lockdown, even when planning her hospital’s charity event means spending long, intimate hours with the tempting tycoon. Until a night of passion changes everything...
USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN has won numerous awards for her novels, including both a prestigious RITA
Award and an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. After years of moving around the country bringing up four children, Catherine has settled in her home state of South Carolina, where she’s active in animal rescue. For more information, visit her website, catherinemann.com (http://www.catherinemann.com).
Also by Catherine Mann (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
The Baby Claim
The Double Deal
The Love Child
The Twin Birthright
The Second Chance
The Rancher’s Seduction
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
The Billionaire Renegade
Catherine Mann
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09200-5
THE BILLIONAIRE RENEGADE
© 2018 Catherine Mann
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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To Barbara Collins Rosenberg—
an amazing agent and a dear friend.
Contents
Cover (#ue8562aa2-0d31-5158-9b97-ecfa4c7ad60d)
Back Cover Text (#u63894ee8-2f2e-573d-8b47-51d9773b54dd)
About the Author (#u772f9b41-cc28-52b8-add0-c7e2eac2a1a3)
Booklist (#u2154ebd1-53cc-570b-9a7b-7728b0eb54eb)
Title Page (#u52e0bfe0-6b70-5acc-8de7-22d5c08b8f37)
Copyright (#u059d50b6-237b-5755-b9fc-71b0d8750b6c)
Dedication (#uf1413d59-9c5b-51b1-9851-e63aae9ed57f)
One (#ud6a16ba9-81aa-5043-bfdc-90f672d597ac)
Two (#ucd47699e-e430-5493-804b-441676daaa53)
Three (#ubf7b4c1c-a4e6-50d0-939c-09efd0c05beb)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
He was back.
Felicity Hunt didn’t need to see more than the buff-colored Stetson resting on his knee to know Conrad Steele hadn’t heeded her request that they stop seeing each other. The man threatened the balance she’d worked so hard to create in regaining her professional life after her divorce.
But the Alaskan oil magnate had a reputation for determination. The smooth-talking kind that persisted until he won.
Well, he wouldn’t win her.
Although he was sure pulling out all the stops to gain her attention today in the hospital’s enclosed memory garden.
Conrad was currently leading story time, pint-size patients gathered around him in a heart-tugging cluster.
On her way back from supervising a critically ill three-year-old who’d just entered the foster system, Felicity steeled her resolve to keep this man at arm’s length. Easier said than done. As a social worker at Anchorage General Hospital, she had a soft spot for her young clients.
Children sat in wheelchairs and on floor mats, wide-eyed with rapt attention focused on the cowboy spinning a tale about a magical horse. His deep voice rumbled over the words, the book all but dwarfed by his large hands. He kept it open for his audience to see, the current page containing a watercolor image of the horse with a blanket and saddle over its back.
A little girl raised her hand with a question. “What’s hanging off the saddle?”
“Those are stirrups, for the rider’s feet,” Conrad answered, tapping his boots on the floor. He then expanded the explanation with ease, his knowledge of all things equine shining through.
His gaze rose from the children, colliding with Felicity’s as she leaned against a pillar. The air crackled between them with a connection she should have been used to by now, but the potency still caught her unaware. Just a look not more than three heartbeats long left her shaken long after he returned his attention to the book.
God, he was handsome in a rugged, movie star way with a strong jaw and cheekbones. His dark hair was trimmed neatly, hints of silver at his temples tempting her fingers to stroke. And those eyes, pale blue like the hottest of flames.
He had broad shoulders that filled out his crisp white shirt just so, his suit coat draped over the back of the rolling chair. His red silk tie drew her attention to the strong column of his neck.
This was a man others leaned on.
She forced even breaths in and out, willing her heart rate to slow. The scent of plants and flowers mingled with the antiseptic smell of the highly sterilized space.
Fidgeting with the badge on her silver lanyard, Felicity knew she should walk right out of the memory garden, and she would, before he finished the story.
Meanwhile, she couldn’t stop thoughts of how she’d met Conrad, of how he’d pursued her with such flattering intensity. Her work as a county social worker had brought her to this hospital often, and his nephew had been dating a friend of Felicity’s who volunteered in the NICU. Felicity had finally caved and dated Conrad briefly, against her better judgment, but she’d broken things off just before Christmas and taking on a new job.
It was a dream come true being hired on as a hospital social worker for underage patients. The recent change offered all the more reason she needed to stay focused on her career, and not on romance. Her broken marriage had left her full of crushing heartbreak. The grief had taken its toll on her at the office, crippling her concentration. She’d labored long and hard to rebuild her résumé. She refused to endure another setback in her professional—or personal—life.
After Conrad closed the last page of the book, he turned over story time to a volunteer with puppets. Felicity let go of her lanyard, her fingers numb. She’d gripped it so hard the ridges bit into her skin.
She’d waited too long, lost in thoughts of this man. If she moved quickly, she could still make an escape...
But wouldn’t that delay the inevitable?
She couldn’t just walk away today without confronting Conrad about his refusal to give her space. Her heart sped.
Conrad slid on his suit jacket, then scooped up his Stetson and overcoat. He wove his way through the audience, past geraniums spilling over the side of terra-cotta planters, massive urns with trees and a babbling stone fountain. While the puppeteer set up her portable stage, children stretched and wriggled, mats rustling and IV poles clinking. Conrad paused, leaning to answer a question from a young girl with a bandanna covering her bald head, then continued his journey across the indoor garden.
And his eyes were locked on Felicity.
Felicity exhaled hard, her heart double-timing against her will. He didn’t miss a beat in his beeline to her, his long legs eating up the space between them, boots thudding on the tile floor.
“Hello,” he said simply, his head dipping low enough his breath caressed her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”
She bit her lip and struggled to keep her gaze off his mouth and on his eyes, memories of their brief time together bombarding her. “We should step out. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the performance.”
Taped flute music started as the puppeteer slid into place behind the stage. The children stilled for the rest of the entertainment.
Conrad opened the door leading out of the memory garden and into the busy hallway, winter coat draped over his arm. Staff in scrubs mixed with visitors in street clothes, and the flow of human traffic streamed both ways, the opposing currents somehow weaving around each other fluidly. The wide corridor sported a wall of windows showcasing a snowplow making its way through the lot beside a towering parking garage.
Conrad clasped her elbow and guided her to a nook lined with vending machines. The simple touch set her body on fire. His equally hot gaze made her feel like a siren in spite of her businesslike pin-striped skirt and ruffled white blouse.
He planted a hand on the wall, his shoulders blocking out the corridor, making a public space suddenly intimate. “Congratulations on your new job.”
So he did know, probably from her friend Tally Benson, who was dating Marshall Steele—Conrad’s nephew. Felicity had the confirmation. His time here wasn’t coincidental. He was looking for her.
Frustration—and an unwanted tingle of pleasure—filled her. “Tally told you?”
“Marshall did,” Conrad acknowledged. “I didn’t know you were looking to make a change at work.”
She struggled to focus on his words, difficult to do with the spicy scent of him filling her every breath.
“I wasn’t unhappy at my other position, but this is a dream job of mine.” All the more reason she needed to keep her focus narrowed.
“They’re lucky to have you.” His hand was close enough to stroke her hair, but he didn’t move.
The phantom touch, the promise, was just as potent.
Enough polite chitchat. “Why are you here? I’m not buying this sudden interest of yours for story time with sick children.”
“You didn’t want our date from the bachelor auction last month, so I’m fulfilling the time purchased here.”
She’d been irate when he’d paid the money in her name for his time at the charity bachelor auction. She didn’t like being manipulated. Another reason she was irritated to see him here today, despite the way his nearness made her temperature spike.
Still, she couldn’t deny he was doing a good thing for the patients, many of them here long term in the pediatric oncology ward. “That’s very altruistic of you. What made you think of reading books instead of something like volunteering in the gift shop?”
“I like kids, even though I don’t have any of my own. I’ve always been a proud and involved uncle. And my family’s charity foundation is initiating a number of projects here at Anchorage General.”
Could that be true and she just hadn’t heard about it yet? Or was he making another excuse to pursue her because she’d had the nerve to say no to a Steele?
“What kinds of projects?”
“We’re starting with a program donating books to patients.” He answered without hesitation.
She believed him. About that much at least. “That’s a wonderful thing to do, but I need to make sure you know, my interest is not for sale.”
His easy smile faded. “Neither is my honor. My family has always supported this hospital out of gratitude for their top-notch care. My nieces and nephews were born here. My niece Naomi underwent cancer treatment here—and then went on to deliver her twins here. The book donation is a part of the new pilot program.”
“New pilot program?” she couldn’t resist asking, the professional in her intrigued. So much for playing it as cool and formidable as the Alaskan tundra.
“The Steele and Mikkelson families’ new charity foundation is looking for more ways to make a difference at the hospital. One of those ways is to provide children with new books, volumes they can keep so there’s no risk of germ cross-contamination with shared materials.”
How could she find fault with that plan? She couldn’t. “That’s really thoughtful. I’m sure the children and parents will be very grateful.”
Finances could become strained with long-term hospitalizations, so much so that even buying books was a luxury.
“Today’s package for each child included a copy of the story they just heard.” A half smile tugged on his mouth, those signature Steele eyes full of promise.
It had been a riveting tale, no question, especially when read by a larger-than-life cowboy. “You said ways—plural—of helping here. What else is the foundation doing?”
She was curious, yes. But she also needed to know where to avoid him so she didn’t keep testing her resolve where he was concerned.
“The vote was taken yesterday, so technically, it’s okay for me to share now even though the press release won’t go out until tomorrow.” His smile widened and her stringent resolve waned.
“Okay, I’ll admit it. You’ve got my interest—on a professional basis only.”
His brows shot up almost imperceptibly. “Of course.” His smile was confident—and sexy. “We’re making a donation to the oncology ward in honor of my niece. They’ll be renaming it, to be made official at a dinner for the hospital board of directors and the charity foundation board.”
His words sunk in. This wasn’t a simple book drop-off or some quickly concocted plan to bump into her in passing. He and his family’s charitable foundation had a genuine, vested interest in being a part of this hospital’s financial landscape.
Realization filled her with the inescapable truth—and she couldn’t deny a shiver of excitement. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”
Stetson in hand, Conrad watched Felicity walk away in a huff down the hospital corridor.
He was definitely getting under her skin, and that was a good thing. Damn straight, he wasn’t going anywhere. He had wanted her since the first time he’d seen her. He’d worked to win her over since then, not an easy task as she was still stinging from her divorce. But then, he wasn’t one to shy away from a battle.
Letting his gaze linger on her, he stepped away from the vending machines and back into the flow of foot traffic in the wide corridor, winter coat over his arm. Felicity’s sleek brown hair was pulled back into a neat French twist, midday sunlight through the window reflecting off honey-colored streaks.
Her pin-striped skirt was both professional yet also appealing in an understated way as it hugged her curves, sweeping down to touch the top of her knee-length leather boots. The ruffles on her blouse drew his eyes to her neck and wrists. Not that it took much to bring his attention to her.
He was selective, dating professional women who weren’t interested in a walk down the aisle. He’d had a brief marriage and a near miss, having been left at the altar by his fiancée. His attempts at happily-ever-after had left him gun-shy.
Then when his older brother had lost his wife and child in a plane crash, seeing his brother’s unrelenting grief had cemented Conrad’s resolution to stay single. He’d devoted himself to helping bring up his nieces and nephews. He loved kids. It hadn’t been a hardship to lend a hand to his overburdened big brother, Jack. Conrad was fifteen years younger and had energy and time to spare. He couldn’t help wondering, though, if the fact that his brother’s kids were grown now attributed to some restlessness on Conrad’s part.
His gaze zoned back in on Felicity as she stepped into an elevator. She certainly had his attention and he imagined she would have at any time in his life. He’d hoped things would go a little more smoothly today, but he also enjoyed a good challenge.
He started toward the elevators just as the double set of electric doors opened, a blast of cold air gusting inside. A familiar face stopped him short. Marshall. His nephew. The middle child in Jack Steele’s brood, Marshall was a bit of a recluse, preferring to oversee the original homestead ranch. He’d never voiced an interest in the day-to-day operations of the family’s oil business.
They’d all had to step up, though, when Jack Steele had become engaged to the widowed matriarch of their corporate rival, the Mikkelson family. Shortly after that, Jack had suffered a fall from a horse that could have killed him, but didn’t. Still, it had left him with a recovery from spinal surgery that had lasted months.
Even though Jack had married Jeannie Mikkelson, the family had still been in turmoil at a critical juncture in the merger into the combined companies that became Alaska Oil Barons Inc., with stock prices fluctuating as a result. They needed to provide a unified, stable front. Hopefully the charity foundation—with both the Steeles and Mikkelsons at the helm—would help blend the families while also reassuring investors.
Marshall closed the last few feet between them, shaking snow off the brim of his hat. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”
“Everything’s fine.” They were all still a little jumpy after Jack’s accident, and then Shana Mikkelson’s aneurysm. A larger family meant more cause for concern as well as happiness. “I was delivering the books to the children’s ward, am just finishing up reading one.”
“Seriously? I suspect a different agenda here.” Marshall’s brown eyes narrowed, the quiet perception in the depths so like the gaze of Marshall’s mother, who’d died in a plane crash. “Felicity’s working here full-time now, isn’t she?”
“I recall reading to you when you were a kid,” Conrad dodged neatly.
“As I recall, you were doing it then for extra credit for your high school English class.”
He waved dismissively. “Two birds with one stone. I’m a multitasker.”
“Ah, like today.” Marshall held up a hand. “No worries if you don’t want to talk about Felicity. I’m here to pick up Tally and take her to lunch. Are you still coming by tomorrow with Nanuq and Shila?”
He’d been housing a couple of horses for Marshall since one of his two barns had burned and he needed some flex space for his animals while the rebuilding was under way. The aesthetics weren’t complete, but the stalls were secure and warm. Nanuq and Shila, which meant white bear and flame, were ready for transport.
“Absolutely. See you then.”
In fact, he could use a ride to work out the tension he would no doubt feel after the impending confrontation with Felicity. Before the day was out, she would learn just how closely they would be working together.
Striding down the hospital corridor toward her office, Felicity wished it was as easy to haul her thoughts away from the first-floor lobby and one big sexy distraction in a Stetson.
But then her nerves had been a mess since she’d bumped into Conrad. She needed to get herself together before the meeting with her new boss. Felicity wove by a nurse with a vitals cart and a cluster of visitors lost in their conversation.
Her new supervisor had been cryptic about the reason for the meeting other than to say it was about a way for Felicity to make a mark in her job. Her interest was piqued. She couldn’t get there fast enough. Looking down to pull her notes from her portfolio bag, she nearly slammed into someone—
Tally Benson, waving at her.
“Hello there,” her friend exclaimed in surprise. “I’m just finishing up volunteering. I thought I wasn’t going to see you today. How’s the new job?”
“I’m excited about the opportunity.” The words sounded hollow in Felicity’s mouth, making her wonder why she bothered faking emotions with her friends. Back in high school, she’d briefly tried out for a school production of King Lear because her foster mom loved Shakespeare. During the course of her tryouts, Felicity had realized masking her feelings required a lot more work than actors onstage and on-screen made it out to be.
Strangely, during her work, she’d never had to fake an emotion she didn’t feel. Her deep well of empathy supplied her strength as she moved through the difficult spaces of social work.
Today, she felt like that high schooler reading lines. The words didn’t match her body’s articulation of apprehension, intrigue.
“Then why are you frowning?” Tally scrunched her nose.
Felicity adjusted her lanyard, unable to resist asking, “Did you know that Conrad is reading to the kids in pediatrics?”
She opted to dodge the question that had too much of a matchmaking vibe. “I’ve heard the family’s charitable foundation has big plans for the hospital.”
And that level of donation couldn’t be a simple romantic ploy. Renaming a wing involved a significant amount of money. She felt small for having accused him of reading to the kids for show.
Felicity forced a smile. “The hospital is lucky to have such a generous benefactor.”
“To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by the family. There are so many of them.” And the redhead would certainly know that since not too long ago she’d been hired to help Marshall around the house while he recovered from a broken arm. Now they were a couple. “But the charity foundation has been a rewarding way to get to know them.”
When the Steele patriarch had married his rival’s widow, the business world had been full of reports about the merger of their two companies and there had been fluctuations in the market with concerns about who would take the helm. There still hadn’t been an official announcement of who would be the CEO for the newly formed Alaska Oil Barons Inc., but she’d heard rumblings they were closing in on a choice.
“Oh,” Felicity remembered, reaching into her portfolio bag, “I have your letter of recommendation ready.” She had convinced Tally to apply for a scholarship to pursue a degree in social work. The woman was a natural.
Tally’s smile beamed, her eyes watering. “Thank you.” She took the envelope, sliding it carefully into her purse. “Your support and encouragement means the world to me. I’m afraid to get my hopes up that I’ll get in, much less receive the scholarship.”
Hope was a scary thing, no question. Felicity remembered too well how difficult it had been to trust in a positive future after her divorce. “I’m rooting for you. Let me know the minute you hear.”
“I will,” Tally promised, giving her a quick hug. “I should let you go. Let’s do lunch soon and catch up. My treat.”
“Sounds great. Let’s keep in touch...” Felicity backed away with a smile and a wave before spinning toward her new office. She lifted her key card and swiped her way into the space—all hers with a window of her own. She could see the snowy mountains and make the most of what little daylight there was during an Alaska winter. She still had boxes stacked in the corner, but had started unpacking the most important items first. Starting with a bulletin board of thank-you notes from parents and newly adopted clients, along with a few childishly drawn pictures she’d framed. These meant more to her than any accolades, seeing how her work made life better for children who were helpless.
She understood the feeling too well.
Swallowing back a wad of emotion, she searched through the stack of files on her desk until she found the one she was looking for under a brass paperweight, a Texas buffalo. She glanced at the clock and gasped. She needed to get moving.
She locked her door, then raced down the hall toward the elevator bank, her leather boots scuffing against the tile floor in her speed. Just ahead, an elevator door began to slide close.
“Wait,” she called. “Please hold that elevator.”
A hand shot out and the doors bumped back open. Sighing in relief, she angled through sideways.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I’m running late for a meeting.”
A masculine voice chuckled from the other side of the packed elevator.
A familiar masculine voice.
She closed her eyes. “Hello, Conrad.”
What were the odds?
Gathering her composure, she opened her eyes to find him standing next to a young nurse who was making no effort to hide checking him out. And he gave no acknowledgment to the flirtatious behavior, which Felicity had to admit moved her. He dated widely, but she’d never heard a negative word about him from other women.
Damn it. She didn’t need these thoughts. “Fifth floor, please.”
She made a point of reviewing the proposal she wanted to give her boss about a new playlist of music and movies for the children in oncology during treatment time.
The elevator slid open again and the cluster of occupants departed, leaving Felicity alone with Conrad. It must have been too much to hope for that he would leave too and make this easier on her. Another part of her whispered that his presence shouldn’t bother her this much.
He stepped up alongside her. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”
She tucked her papers away. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t you want to know more about the foundation’s plans for the hospital?”
She looked up sharply, her gaze colliding with his. A shiver rippled through her as the spicy scent of his aftershave filled her breaths in the small confines of the elevator. Quite simply put, he was yummy, and also offering information she craved.
“I’m intrigued. But I have to say no thank you to dinner.”
He chuckled softly.
“Laughing at me certainly isn’t going to win me over.”
“Trust me, I’m not laughing at you. You do amuse me, but it’s your wit, which I admire and find sexy as hell.” He grinned at her. “Am I doing better?”
Sighing, she searched his face, his too-damn-handsome face. “I don’t understand why you’re still pursuing me.”
“You’re just that amazing.” His eyes held hers again, stirring more of those tingles up and down her spine, making her imagine what it would be like to lean into him, just a hint.
The elevator doors slid open, the movement and people on the other side jarring her out of her daze. Securing her bag, she stepped forward. There was no denying the attraction between them. That had never been in question.
Even now, she could swear she felt the warmth of him just behind her. Because she did.
He’d followed her out of the elevator, on the very floor of her meeting with her boss about an exciting new opportunity. On the very day Conrad had mentioned his family’s charity foundation beginning new endeavors at Anchorage General. With the children. Foreboding swelled through her.
Gesturing forward, Conrad smiled. “It’s going to be a pleasure working together.”
Two (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
Conrad knew better than to push his luck.
He held the door open for Felicity on their way back out of her boss’s office an hour later. Follow-up meetings had been scheduled for brainstorming potential initiatives for the Steele-Mikkelson charity foundation, to best utilize their donations. They just needed to coordinate with Isabeau Mikkelson for times that worked for her as well, since she was the foundation’s official PR person.
Their primary goal? To have a prospectus in place to unveil at the banquet for the board next month. The next four weeks would offer the perfect opportunities to win over Felicity.
And if she still said no after that? He didn’t want to believe that would happen. But he also wasn’t a jerk. It wasn’t like the two of them had fallen in love at first sight.
Still, he was certain they could have one hell of an affair.
He stopped at the elevator, the set of her shoulders telling him he’d pushed his luck far enough for one day. He pulled out his phone and stepped away from the sliding doors. She shot a surprised look his way and he stifled a smile, surfing his emails by the window to check for updates before heading back to the office.
An hour later, he strode down the corridors of the Alaska Oil Barons Inc.’s corporate offices. He served on the board of directors for his brother’s company, while maintaining an investment business of his own.
Windows along the length of the corridor overlooked the frozen harbor. The other wall was lined with framed artistic photographs of the Alaskan countryside. This building had been the Steele offices, and since the merger, it was the primary headquarters. The Mikkelson tower was still open and filled to capacity, and the styles of the two offices had begun to merge. The chrome decor of the Steele building now sported some metal-tipped teak pieces.
Conrad opened the conference room door. The lengthy table was already more than halfway full. At the head, his brother, Jack sat, beside his new wife, Jeannie Mikkelson-Steele, whose influence extended well beyond changes to the furniture.
Jack leaned back in his seat, waving his brother into the room. “We’re just waiting for Naomi to arrive. How did things go at the hospital?”
Conrad rolled a chair away from the table and placed his briefcase on the sleek, polished wood. “The kids were grateful for the books and the story time.”
Jack smiled slowly. “I was talking about the meeting with Felicity Hunt, her boss and the hospital’s PR director.”
Taking his seat, Conrad used the excuse of pulling out paperwork to delay answering the question. The last thing he needed was an overeager family spooking Felicity.
From his briefcase, he pulled an extra copy of the children’s book he’d read at the hospital. He passed the paperback to Glenna Mikkelson-Steele—Jeannie’s oldest daughter. “I brought this for Fleur.”
To everyone’s surprise, Glenna had married Jack’s oldest son, who many had thought would assume the family helm. But Broderick had held firm to his position of splitting the CFO duties with his wife so they could focus on their growing family. Everyone in the family was stretched thin, and the acting CEO had moved to North Dakota for a less taxing position so he could spend more time with his wife and start a family.
The board was in final talks trying to lure Ward Benally from the competition. Landing him would be a coup. He worked for a rival company and was a respected—and feared—leader in the oil industry. Benally was also a tough negotiator—which made hammering out a contract a challenge, but it would be a boon if they pulled it off.
Conrad was doing his best to help his family through the transition of the merger. He slid another copy to the far end of the table where Trystan Mikkelson—black sheep of the family—sat with his very pregnant wife. The company’s PR consultant, Isabeau Mikkelson, rested one hand on her very pregnant stomach and her other hand on her service dog’s head. The Labrador retriever assisted in alerting to Isabeau’s diabetes, especially important with a baby on the way.
Jack snagged an extra copy from his brother’s briefcase, fanning through the pages. “And your meeting?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Conrad evaded while pulling his tablet from his briefcase. “I attended. We discussed data and look forward to having Isabeau at the next meeting.”
“And Felicity was okay with being the point person with you when Isabeau’s unavailable?” Jack pressed.
Couldn’t his brother have brought this up away from all these prying eyes? “She’s professional. And this is business.”
Jack grinned. “Would you have volunteered for the charity board if she wasn’t involved?”
Conrad snapped his case shut. “I’ve always been loyal to the family.” That went without saying. Although it was best to go ahead and address the elephant in the room. “I’m not denying I want to spend more time with her. It’s nice how life lines up sometimes.”
Saving him from further questions, Naomi Steele-Miller pushed open the door. His niece had faced death as a teen and many had thought she wouldn’t survive cancer. Conrad hadn’t been sure how his brother would make it through losing another child after Breanna. Thank God, that hadn’t happened.
And as it turned out, he hadn’t lost Breanna either.
Standing, Conrad pulled out a chair for his niece. Brea and Naomi had looked so much alike as children. How was it that they’d all missed any resemblance when Breanna, posing as Milla Jones, had taken a job as a receptionist? Of course, her hair had been bleached blond. Could they have all been thrown off by something that simple?
Although Brea and Naomi were fraternal twins, not identical.
Naomi pulled her chair into place. “Thank you for being patient. Sorry I’m late. It took longer to settle the girls than I expected.”
Conrad snagged another copy of the children’s book and passed it to his niece. An attorney for Alaska Oil Barons Inc., she had only just started coming to work without her twin daughters in a double stroller. She and her husband worked from home as much as possible. Her husband, Royce, was a research scientist for the corporation.
Jack took a swallow from his water glass before starting. “No need to apologize, Naomi. Everyone else only just arrived.”
Everyone?
Strangely, there were no other board members there—or rather, no one who wasn’t a family member. Could this meeting have a different agenda?
Jack cupped the glass, his jaw tight. “Shana called with an update into the investigation.”
Conrad straightened in his seat. Shana and Chuck Mikkelson were taking a train ride to North Dakota to house hunt for their upcoming move. Chuck was taking a job heading up offices at that end of the pipeline. For her to call, it must have been important. All eyes were trained on Jack.
“Milla Jones—Brea—has made contact through an attorney. She’s willing to talk as long as there’s legal representation present.”
Conrad couldn’t miss the toll this was taking on his older brother. Stark lines fanned from his eyes, dark circles underneath.
Jack shook his head, scraping his hand through his hair. “She’s our Brea, but she wants lawyers to be involved in the reunion? It’s so surreal.”
Jeannie rested a hand on her husband’s arm. “She’s been gone a long time. There’s no telling what she’s been through. Let’s focus on the fact she’s reached out.”
Broderick snorted in disgust. “Because she got word we were closing in on her.”
“That’s rather cynical,” Jack said.
“I’m just setting realistic expectations, Dad. No matter who she is, we can’t forget she was leaking corporate secrets before she ran away without a word to any of us.”
Jack pushed his water glass away. “No matter what happened when she came here as Milla Jones, she is our Breanna. Nothing is more important than that.”
Nods made their way around the table, some more reluctant than others.
Jeannie rolled her chair back. “Let’s break for a few, get our heads in the game again, then reconvene to discuss the latest round of contract negotiations with Ward Benally.”
A wise suggestion to take a breather, given the tension pulsing from both the Steeles and the Mikkelsons. There’d been recent allegations made that someone in the Mikkelson family could have been involved in Brea’s disappearance. It seemed inconceivable, but then so did the possibility that Brea could truly be alive.
These days, anything was possible.
Conrad tossed his tablet into his briefcase. Since he’d weighed in with his written feedback, Conrad took the opportunity to step out of this portion of the meeting.
Once back in the corridor, he turned on his cell and it immediately buzzed with missed calls and texts.
And right at the top of the list of those who’d phoned?
Felicity Hunt.
Felicity tried not to stare at her phone on her kitchen counter.
Calling Conrad had been an impulsive move, which was surprising in and of itself since she wasn’t the impulsive type. But when a friend from work had texted her with questions about a rumor regarding Breanna Steele... Felicity had found herself remembering a discussion with Conrad about how devastating his niece’s disappearance had been for him.
Felicity punched in Conrad’s number before she could think.
Property in Alaska was costly and social workers didn’t bring in large paychecks. Since she lived alone and spent most of her free time at work, it made sense to rent a one-bedroom apartment. She hadn’t brought anything from Texas with her anyway, preferring to leave all her furniture and the bad memories associated with it behind her.
Her living area was tight, but comfy, with a generic tan sofa alongside a space-saver rattan chair, and her one indulgence—a fat, raspberry-colored reading chair perched by the window and under a skylight. She missed her Texas sun but couldn’t deny the magnificence of the views here were unrivaled.
She’d wanted a place far from memories of her painful past, and she’d found a haven here.
Turning back to her coffeepot, she tapped the “water only” feature to make tea. She pulled a mug from the cabinet, a stoneware piece she’d bought at a local festival. Leaving her belongings behind had offered the opportunity to explore new styles and reinvent herself.
She’d kept the most important things in her life, letters from people who cared about her. Foster siblings. Her final foster parents. A social worker who’d made a world of difference in her life.
Her work meant everything to her. She still couldn’t ever turn her back on the career that gave her purpose. Her life’s calling was to make the same difference for helpless children.
A mantra she repeated to herself daily.
More than once daily lately, since Conrad Steele had entered her world.
She blew in her tea before taking a sip. The warmth soothed her nerves.
Her phone chimed, and she reached for the cell while lifting her mug for another drink. The name on the screen stilled her hand.
Conrad Steele.
Her heart leaped at the incoming call, too much. But she wasn’t going to play games by making it ring longer. She was an adult.
She thumbed the speakerphone. “Hello, Conrad.”
“I see I missed a call from you.”
In spite of insisting to herself this was no big deal, she found herself tongue-tied. “I don’t want to be presumptuous. I just wanted to make sure everything’s okay.”
“Things are still on track for the hospital donations. No need to be concerned.”
She hated that he thought her reason for calling could be only self-serving. “I heard there’s news about your niece. I don’t want to pry and invade your family’s privacy, but I thought of you—”
“You’re not prying. You’re being thoughtful. Thank you. I know you have ties to the family through your friendship with Tally. You care.”
“I do.”
His heavy exhale filled the phone. “Brea has reached out. We don’t know the full story as to where she’s been and why she came back the way she did, pretending to be someone else. But at least we’re going to have answers.”
“This has to be so difficult for you.”
“My brother is tied in knots,” he said tightly.
She knew him well enough to realize how deeply this would affect him, too. He was close to his family. One of the things that drew her to him. “And you’re taking a backseat to your own feelings since you’re an uncle.”
“Are you using those counselor skills on me?”
“It’s second nature, I guess.” She just hadn’t thought she was quite so transparent. Or maybe he was that perceptive. Either way, she needed to choose her words more carefully.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you again for the concern,” he said softly before continuing. “Was there another reason for your call?”
She needed to work with him, but also needed him to understand her position. “I got a text from a coworker with information I thought I should pass along.”
“What kind of information?”
“The rumors are already churning about Milla Jones possibly being your missing niece. Photos of Milla—Brea—have been circulating.”
“Yes, we had those released when we first started our investigation.”
“Everyone in the break room has been talking about the volunteer who filed a report about the same woman delivering flowers to patients one night.” She toyed with her lanyard. “The volunteer said she plans to notify your family, but I wanted to make sure you knew.”
“Delivering flowers? That’s strange.”
“My friend said a volunteer came to her and explained she was approached by Milla and paid a large sum of money to loan her volunteer smock. Unethical on so many levels, which is why she didn’t come forward sooner.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“Last fall. I’m sure the Steele family will be notified through official channels soon.”
“Last fall? That’s around the time when Naomi’s twins were born.”
A chill went through her to think of Breanna Steele stalking the halls incognito to see her twin’s newborn babies. Hospital security was paramount, especially in the maternity ward. The babies all wore bracelets that would set off alarms if they were taken from the floor. But still. This was more than a little unsettling.
What had happened to Breanna that caused her to distrust her own family so deeply? A sense of foreboding rolled over Felicity, born of too many years on the job, telling her that finding the woman wasn’t going to bring an easy, happy reunion.
Conrad cleared his throat. “Thank you for sharing that information. I’ll pass it along.”
“I hope it helps in some way.”
“Every piece of this crazy puzzle is helpful.” He paused for a moment. “Was there something else?”
“Actually, yes. I want us to start fresh for the good of the hospital project.”
“What do you mean by starting fresh?”
“A working friendship, on neutral ground.” She couldn’t be any more succinct than that.
“I’ve made it clear I want more. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
“And it’s clear we have to work together. I can be professional.” She hoped. If only he wasn’t so damn hot.
Except she knew it was more than that. There were plenty of attractive men in the workplace and she didn’t find herself tempted by them, not in the way this man seemed to seep into her thoughts no matter how hard she tried to put him out of her mind.
“Okay, then,” he continued, “do you ride?”
She couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Do I know how to ride? I’m a Texan.”
His chuckle sent a thrill up her spine.
“Alright, then, Felicity. I’m helping exercise my nephew’s horses while his second barn is rebuilt. Bundle up and join me.”
It was just horseback riding. Not like a romantic dinner out.
And still, she found herself far too excited at the prospect of spending more time with a tempting man she’d vowed never to see again.
Conrad had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to get Felicity’s voice out of his head. Attraction was one thing. Total loss of focus? That was unacceptable.
He’d worn himself out in his home gym in preparation for her arrival in hopes of giving himself a much-needed edge.
Warmth from the shower still clung to his skin as he made his way across his in-home basketball court. Stretching his arms overhead, he exhaled hard as he closed the distance to the door. He combed his fingers through his damp hair, anticipation zinging through him over this outing with Felicity.
Opening the door, he left the harsh fluorescent lights of his gym behind. As his eyes adjusted to the gentler light in his wood-paneled living room, his boots thudded on the pine flooring as he picked his way around the large area rug and black-and-tan sectional. Light filtered in from the large windows, filling the oversize tray ceiling.
Yanking his heavy coat off the rack and snagging his black Stetson, he opened his door and shrugged into the wool coat, which still had the lingering scent of antiseptic and hand sanitizer from all his time at the hospital. Even a pine-scented gust of wind that caused snow to stir slightly didn’t completely dissipate the hospital smell.
It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, though. The smell reminded him of Felicity. The sexy social worker who’d agreed to meet him today at the small barn that loomed slightly to the north. To call it small felt like a misnomer. More like, small as far as his family’s standards went. There was room for only ten horses and one tack room. But large, relatively speaking. He lived a good life.
Snow covered the tiered roof, icicles spiking from the eaves. Three horses trotted around the front paddock. Literally frolicking in the snow. Sally, the oldest mare he owned, played with an oversize ball. Careening around it like a little filly. The old chestnut mare still so full of life and wonder.
His brother had a larger barn with more rides, but then, he had children. Conrad had his horse and mounts for his nieces and nephews to ride when they came over. But he led a bachelor’s existence, more scaled back than his brother’s.
That wasn’t to say Conrad hadn’t once envisioned a life for himself with kids and a spread like his brother. But that wasn’t in the cards for him. He’d seen that clearly after the breakup of two significant relationships. He’d given it his best shot, only to get his heart stomped and the betrayal stung him still.
So he’d thrown himself into helping his brother. He’d watched Jack’s kids grow up, had helped with them as much as his brother would allow. Conrad led a full life.
His boots crunched in the snow as he moved toward the barn. Conrad opened the latch to the climate-controlled stable. Warmth brushed against his cheeks as he grabbed the necessary tack for today’s ride. He placed the saddles one by one on the built-in saddle racks on the walls of the barn. Hung the bridles next to them. He returned to the tack room for grooming supplies. Settled into his routine.
A whinny emerged from down the barn. Jackson, his palomino stallion, poked his golden head out. Ears flicking in anticipation, matching Conrad’s own pent-up energy. Setting the grooming supplies down, he moved toward his horse. Gave the stallion a scratch behind the ears as he slipped the leather halter over Jackson’s head.
Leading the palomino to the first crossties, he clipped the golden horse. Jackson adjusted his weight, popping his front right hoof on an angle, and let out a sigh that seemed almost bored. Of all the horses Conrad had ever worked with, he’d never come across one with so much personality. And a personality that matched his so well.
Giving the horse another scratch, Conrad determined which ride he would choose for Felicity. Glancing around the barn, he settled on Patches. A quiet, steady pinto gelding, well mannered.
Conrad retrieved Felicity’s mount and began grooming Patches first. As he finished grooming the pinto, he heard the distinct sound of a car engine approach and then fall silent.
A few moments later, Felicity walked into the barn. He was half-surprised she’d shown. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt as he was struck by her natural beauty, the curves visible even through her snow gear.
Her brown hair was swept into a thick braid draped over one shoulder. Her deep purple parka matched her snow pants. Her scarf was loose around her neck, but long enough to cover her face if the wind picked up.
She tugged the ends of the fringed scarf tighter as she approached him. “Well, hello, Conrad. I have to confess, I didn’t expect this.”
Her eyes flitted to the open door behind her, gaze lingering on his one-story home, which overlooked a mountain range.
“What did you expect?” He finished currycombing Jackson, who stretched his neck out far, releasing a shuddering shake from ears to tailbone. Conrad bent over, hoof pick in hand, watching her out of the corner of his eyes.
“I envisioned you living in a penthouse condo. Not a...well, a home.”
“Technically, this—” he motioned around the space “—is a barn.”
She laughed, the wind through the open door carrying a whiff of her citrus scent, mixing with the familiar smell of leather and hay. “You’re right. It is. But I was referring to your house, as well.”
Interesting how she saw space when he thought of his estate as scaled back. Releasing Jackson’s hoof, Conrad made his way to the door. Shut it to keep out the cold. No use freezing before they started riding.
“It’s not the size of my brother’s, but I don’t need as much room.”
“It’s still very spacious, especially by Alaska standards with property being so expensive.” She winced, setting her leather bag on the recessed shelving near where the saddles hung. She positioned the bag near the helmets he’d always made children wear. “That was crass of me to mention money.”
“Not at all. High real estate prices here are a fact.” Hefting Patches’s saddle and saddle pad off the rack, he slung the bridle over his shoulder.
A glance at Felicity’s wind-pinkened face filled his mind with thoughts of skimming kisses over her before claiming her mouth. The memory of her was powerful, so much so, it could tempt him to move too fast and risk the progress he’d made with her. Drawing in a steadying breath, he focused on the task of readying the horses.
As he moved toward the pinto, Patches’s ears flicked as if interested in the conversation at hand as the saddle settled on his back. Conrad was a hard worker, but plenty of people worked hard and didn’t have this kind of luxury. He knew luck had played in as well and he didn’t lose sight of that. After adjusting the girth, he slid the bit into the horse’s mouth, fiddling with the chin strap. He placed the reins on Patches’s neck. The well-trained horse didn’t move, but stood at attention as Conrad tacked up Jackson.
“Even in Texas, I grew up in smaller places, my parents’ apartment, then foster homes. This is incredible.”
He warmed at how she expressed appreciation for the life he’d built, rather than comparing it with Jack Steele’s sprawling compound. Conrad passed her the reins to Patches, the wind blowing the loose strands of her hair forward. His hands itched with the urge to stroke her hair back.
Too easily, he could lose himself in looking at her. But if he made a move, she would likely bolt.
Patience.
He offered her a leg up out of courtesy but also to determine her skill. He would be able to tell if she was as good a rider as she claimed by the way she sat in the saddle. How she positioned her body and weight.
Felicity seemed to be a natural.
Now confident she could hold her own, he led his horse out by the reins. The sun was high and bright, reflecting off the snow in a nearly blinding light. Closing the barn door behind him, he led Jackson a few steps away from the steel-reinforced door. Conrad pulled himself into the saddle, hands adjusting the reins by muscle memory.
Pressing his calves into Jackson’s sensitive side, he urged the horse toward an open gate. He figured this enclosed area would be safer—just in case Felicity lost her seat. Much easier to contain than potentially chasing Patches through the wilderness.
Felicity skillfully picked up the reins, bringing Patches to attention as she set her horse beside his. “Have you heard anything more about your niece?”
“We’ve locked down a time for Brea’s arrival. We’ll be meeting with her attorney present—at her request.” The hair on the back of his neck bristled at all the ways things could go badly.
“This can’t be easy for any of you.”
He pushed his weight in the saddle, grounding down. Nothing about Brea’s return had been something he could have imagined. At least not like this.
“We never dreamed we could have her back at all. We’re staying focused on the fact she’s alive.” Truthful, but it didn’t negate the hell of wondering what led her to infiltrate the company, to resent and mistrust them all to this degree.
“I hope it’s not awkward if I ask, but is there a chance her mother is alive, too?” An eagle soaring overhead cast a wide-wingspan shadow along the snow ahead of Felicity.
“No, none,” he said without hesitation. “Mary’s body was thrown from the plane. They were able to make a positive ID. With Brea, they only located teeth in the charred wreckage.”
It never got easier discussing that part of the aftermath.
She shivered. “Your family has been through so much.”
“Nothing guarantees life will be easy.” The glare of the sun along the icy pasture was so bright he shielded his eyes with his hand. “We’re just lucky to have each other for support along the way.”
“That’s a healthy outlook.”
Her words made him realize she was listening with a professional ear. “I recall you saying you became a social worker because of growing up in foster care. What made you decide to switch to the hospital position?”
Her posture grew surer as she answered him, guiding Patches around snow-covered bushes. “As a child, I saw what a difference a caring professional could make, in my life and in others’. There are so many components, from the caseworker, to the courts, and yes, too often, hospitals. This gave me another avenue to make a difference.”
“You’re certainly doing that.” He respected her devotion to her job, one of the many things that had attracted him to her. He’d thought her career focus would also make them a great pair. He’d thought wrong and needed to figure out another way around to win her.
“I’m grateful to your family for what they’re doing for the hospital.” Wind blew flurries around her horse’s hooves. “The children in oncology... I don’t need to spell out their needs for you. You saw it with your niece Naomi.”
“I did. What kinds of needs do you see for the children in the hospital?” he asked, to make the most of working together. And because he found he was genuinely curious in her input.
“That’s such a broad question.”
He tilted his head, looking forward on the trail in the pasture and checking for uneven ground that could be masked by the snow. “Say the first thing that pops into your head.”
“I have a list in my office on staffing and structural needs,” she said, still not answering his question.
But he understood how her professional instincts might be in play, not wanting to commit to an item when there was a more important need.
“Send me the list. I feel certain we can address those issues. What else?” he pressed. “Something you didn’t even imagine could go on your wish list.” He pushed Jackson into a slow trot, the palomino’s stride putting slight distance between them. Glancing over his shoulder, Conrad saw a determined smile settle on Felicity’s face.
Keeping her hands low on Patches’s neck, she clicked her tongue, coaxing the horse into a smooth jog. Though the horse’s pace increased, Felicity’s seat stayed steady. Flawless execution.
“Well, the children in behavioral health could use more pet therapy teams.”
Felicity’s roots might be Texan, but she held her own with the horse and the cold like she’d lived here her whole life. He was surprised and impressed. “We’re on it. Isabeau Mikkelson is on the committee for PR and she brought up that very subject in an earlier meeting.”
“She and her husband live on a ranch outside Juneau, right?”
“Yes, she just arrived in town today. They’re staying with the family during her last trimester of pregnancy. She’s high risk because of her diabetes, and they want to use the same doctor Naomi had for the delivery.”
“I’m glad they have the support of so many relatives. Are you sure she’s up to the task of helping with this?”
Even with Isabeau being high risk, he hadn’t considered something could go wrong. “She checked with her doctors first and got the okay. She’s been going stir-crazy taking off work and this was a good compromise. She’s been helping pick up slack, too, that would have been covered by Jeannie’s former assistant, Sage Hammond.”
“What happened to Sage?”
“She took a sudden sabbatical to Europe. Really left the family in a lurch, kind of surprising since she’s related to Jeannie.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Isabeau raised the idea of pet therapy since she has a service dog for her diabetes. Even though a service dog is different from a therapy dog, Isabeau’s a great resource on the topic. She’s familiar with the various roles a pet can play in health care.”
Felicity nodded. “A service dog performs a task for one person for life, and a therapy dog provides comfort in groups or for a number of different people individually.”
“Exactly. We’re looking into therapy dog programs for individual room visits as well as group settings. Having a couple of dogs present during reading time would be a great place to start.”
“That sounds wonderful. You’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this.” She glanced at him. “Your family, too. It’s not just a...”
“Not just a promotional tool? No. That’s not to say we aren’t happy for the good press, because our success gives us more charitable options.”
“I’ll do my best to be sure the money’s spent wisely so the foundation can do even more.”
“I’m sure you will.” Applying slight pressure with his reins, Conrad looped his horse back toward the barn. Created somewhat of a bad circle in the snow.
Felicity maneuvered Patches to follow him. “How are you so certain?”
“You were willing to come riding with me today in spite of pushing me away with both hands,” he said with a cocky grin.
Silence fell between them. The only sounds echoing in the air were the crunch of horse hooves against fresh snow.
She shook her head, her smile half amused. “I don’t dislike you.”
He laughed, appreciating how she didn’t dish out flattery just because he had money to donate. “Watch it, or my ego will overinflate with the lavish compliments.”
“I don’t mean to be rude. I just want to be sure we’re clear that this is business.”
He needed to make sure she understood. “I would never make a move without your consent.”
“But that’s not the same as continuing to pursue me,” she said with a wry smile, her cheeks turning red from the wind.
“You’re too perceptive for me to even try to deny that.”
“As long as you’re clear on where I stand.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He tapped the brim of his Stetson, tipping it slightly in salute. “We should get back before your Texas roots freeze out here.”
They’d reached the gate again. Conrad guided Jackson through the opening. Though if he was being honest the horse knew it was time to return home. A renewed pep in his step, Jackson moved toward the barn. Patches let out a low nicker as they drew closer to the structure.
He’d made progress with Felicity and his quest. He’d meant it when he said he wouldn’t leverage the attraction between them until she gave him the green light. But he was a patient man. He could still spend time with her. Get to know her better. Persuade her that they could have something special.
In fact, he welcomed the challenge—as well as the distraction from the stress of his niece’s complicated return.
Three (#uc1827e3b-03a2-5f39-b80d-7343adb70074)
Breanna Steele still struggled with thinking of herself by her birth name. She’d been Milla Jones for over fifteen years. It felt like longer, in fact, since the Brea days were distant, muddied by so many factors since the plane crash.
Pushing away her in-flight meal, she pressed her fingertips against the cool glass of the airplane window. Since the plane crash all those years ago, flying sent her stomach into knots. Particularly when the private jet was so small, just like that aircraft all those years ago. But the transportation had been chartered by the Steeles. Snow-covered mountains sent her nerves into overdrive so she returned her focus to the main cabin.
Her lawyer accompanied her, a young attorney who’d taken her case pro bono, looking to make a name for himself. He was cutthroat. All the more reason to trust him with a future so scary and unsure.
Taking the flight offered by the Steeles had made her nervous, but ultimately it was the logical thing to do. She’d also been very clear in her acceptance that she’d left safeguards in place if anything happened to her. The world would know exactly where she’d been.
People thought she was acting paranoid. She didn’t care.
She tore apart the roll, tossing the pieces into her bowl of uneaten salad. Stress had taken a toll on her appetite. Since the death of her “adoptive” parents last year, she’d been unable to resist searching for answers about her past. Her mind was a jumble. She’d been brought up by a couple—Steven and Karen Jones—who’d protected her from the threats of her family’s crooked connections.
She’d been told her Steele siblings died as well in the crash and the accident was such a haze, she’d believed it. Steven and Karen had insisted they were keeping Brea safe from threats existing in her birth father’s world.
Finding out after the Jones’s deaths that her real dad and her siblings were alive had been a shock, one that started a steamroll of questions about other things. Still, loyalty to Steven and Karen, who’d saved her, was tough to break. She’d told herself they lied about her siblings to keep her safe from her father, who’d orchestrated her biological mother’s death. Brea still believed that to a degree. So much so that she could only envision meeting with the Steeles with lawyers present for her safety—and so she didn’t end up in jail.
There was also the whole matter of her wrangling a job at Alaska Oil Barons Inc. under her fake name and leaking business secrets. She’d wanted revenge for their abandonment. Now she was beginning to realize things might not be that simple. But she still needed to be careful.
As the plane began its descent into Anchorage, she shivered. Afraid, but resolute. The time had come to face her past, to make peace so she could move forward free of any entanglements with the Steeles.
Free of the pain of realizing they never really searched for her.
Never could she be a part of the Steeles’ world of lies and a fake sense of family.
Felicity found disentangling her feelings when it came to Conrad Steele was easier said than done. Their simple ride together had left her more confused than ever.
Fidgeting with her long, silver necklace, she looked at her half-eaten turkey-and-hummus sandwich. She contemplated grabbing it off the pile of vintage travel books she’d used to decorate her office. Unlike her coworkers, Felicity didn’t have many pictures of family and loved ones plastered in every square inch of her office.
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Catherine Mann
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: All this cowboy wants is a temporary affair…Billionaire rancher Conrad Steele wants Felicity Hunt in his bed—no strings attached. He’s been left at the altar before and won’t make the same mistake twice. Until a night of passion changes everything…