Читать книгу The Double Deal - Catherine Mann - Страница 11
ОглавлениеHead ducked into the wind that was picking up speed and throwing icy dartcicles, Royce carried the last box inside—his fifth trip. This Naomi was one hell of a delivery person. He had enough to make it through an apocalypse. Or thereabouts.
Frankly, the hauling—while done on a day colder than the coldest day in hell—had given him a chance to air out his thoughts regarding this unexpected turn of events at a time when he needed unwavering focus.
A visitor at his private retreat. A woman.
A drop-dead gorgeous woman.
He stepped back inside, his dog there to greet him with a nudge of the nose and wag of the tail. Wide brown eyes seemed to ask about this new addition to their haven. Royce didn’t have an answer yet. But he would.
“Hey,” he said, “last box.”
“Sorry the weather stinks so badly.” She stood at the kitchen cabinets with the other boxes at her feet, unloading canned milk.
Naomi’s parka was long gone and...damn, she was a sight for hungry eyes in formfitting jeans with silver studs and a red fuzzy sweater that all but shouted, I’m soft—touch me. Her dark ponytail swished in a silky glide as she reached upward to slide the can in place, then ducked back down to unload a jar of granola.
Eyes off her ass.
He set the last box on one of the two kitchen chairs, cushioned with leather for comfort and the kind of chair that could be used in his office or in the living area. Everything in the space was efficient and multipurpose. “Isn’t someone going to be worried when you don’t return?”
“I texted one of my brothers while you were outside.” She wriggled her toes in thick socks, stacking cans to make room for the granola container.
Texted? “How did you manage that? The signal up here sucks.”
Sure, he could call out and email, but his equipment was top-of-the-line with a portable minisatellite dish.
“I have a really good phone,” she answered simply over her shoulder, inky-black ponytail stroking along her back in a way that made him consider what it would feel like to trace her hair’s path, then test the texture in a gentle fist.
“That’s advanced tech equipment for a delivery person.”
Stepping down, she faced him, smile bright, her full lips glistening with fresh gloss. “My family’s generous. And, um, I was helping a friend by making the delivery since they were overwhelmed with storm purchases.” She tugged at the hem of her red sweater, a slight flush staining her cheeks. “I don’t actually work for the supply shop.”
“You’re a good friend, then, to make a trip in this weather.” He still wasn’t sure why he couldn’t accept she was here to bring his supplies. It just seemed off that the store would send a woman out alone in this crazy-monstrous spring blizzard to deliver paper towels and canned goods. He should call, just to verify, which he would as soon as the supply offices reopened tomorrow...or after the storm.
A deep, shining smile plumped her cheeks, eyes dancing in the warm light. “We all have our reasons for doing things. Friendship is a treasure—and a hefty motivator.”
“True enough.” His parents and their next-door neighbors had been best friends, like family.
They’d been thrilled when Royce had started dating their friends’ daughter, the girl next door, whose father worked alongside his. His parents hadn’t been as excited when she got pregnant, since a baby would have changed his plans for a PhD. However, wedding preparations ensued...until a pipeline explosion rocked the town. His fiancée’s father died.
Then his fiancée miscarried the baby.
Before Royce could process the grief over losing his child, Carrie Lynn had broken the engagement and left. For good.
Life fell apart for him. He didn’t give himself over to emotion easily. It wasn’t in his nature. Figuring out how to recover from that loss ten years ago had been tougher than anything he’d faced in his life.
But Royce had pieced himself back together with an unwavering focus on work and a dedication to reducing the chances of a pipeline tragedy happening to any other family again. Hell, he was better off doing what he did best.
Dealing with science and facts, not emotions and feelings.
His passion for his work had cost him relationships, but damn it, he wasn’t interested in changing himself or his values for anyone.
Take him as he was. Period.
So, in reality, this woman wasn’t a threat beyond being a physical temptation.
Reassured for the moment, he stepped out of his boots, his wool socks much like hers. Except his weren’t purple.
Naomi closed the cabinet and settled in an empty chair, crossing her legs, purple-socked foot swinging. “Are you vacationing?”
“Working.” A fact that shouldn’t require elaboration.
She laughed lightly. “You don’t look like a professional ice fisherman.”
“I’m not.”
“Then what are you working on?” she asked, drumming her fingers on his laptop computer, his abacus key chain resting beside on the table. “Your memoirs of life in the Alaskan wilds fighting bears?”
“Nosy much?” He moved the final box of supplies to the floor and sat in the other chair, eyeing her.
“I’m just making polite conversation. Unless you’re going to cue up Netflix, we have time to kill waiting out the storm.”
Damn, she was funny and sassy as well as hot. How long was this storm supposed to last?
“I have an extensive library on my tablet. You’re welcome to browse. Make yourself comfortable over there on the sofa.”
Out of his workspace and far enough away so that he wouldn’t be breathing in the crisp scent of her, something like—he sought an intellectual answer to such an elemental scent—like the water, the ocean. Icy salt air. Did they make that into a perfume or was it just the scent of her? He focused back in on her words.
“While you work at...”
“I’m a science professor.” He tossed out his generic answer, a truth. He did give the periodic guest lecture series.
“So, you have papers to grade?” she pushed without budging from her seat.
“Hmm...” He pulled his tablet out of his computer bag and cued up the library, while making sure the rest of his data was tightly password protected.
“You’re not the chatty sort.”
“Nope.”
“You were talkative earlier, with the bear.” She toyed with her ponytail, shiny black strands gliding through her fingers.
“Adrenaline.” A chemical currently pumping through his body again as he watched her play with her hair. Was it his imagination or was she flirting?
And if she was, did he want to take her up on that offer?
Hell, yes.
She reached across the small teak table. “Is the offer for that tablet full of reading material still available?”
* * *
Three hours later, stars glinting overhead and a fire crackling in the stone hearth, Naomi curled up with a blanket and throw pillows, pretending to be engrossed in a mystery novel on the glowing tablet. She’d already read it a week ago, so if Royce asked questions, she would be able to answer. Meanwhile, she could study him and figure out how best to proceed.
Upon reflection, Naomi wasn’t so sure this plan had been her best. After receiving the investigator’s report, she’d moved quickly. Usually a strength of hers. Fast decision-making.
But given the upheaval in her family lately, she had to admit, she wasn’t at the top of her game.
She’d rushed up here without considering all the outcomes.
Gathering a look at Royce’s data would be easier said than done, and a few notes here and there would only have short-term benefits. Persuading him to join forces with the Steele and Mikkelson family businesses, which were merging into Alaska Oil Barons, was going to be a challenge. Especially with the tumultuous press her family had been generating since her dad had announced his surprise engagement to the Mikkelson widow—Jeannie. Stock prices had dropped.
Then her brother had gotten engaged to a Mikkelson and they were parenting a baby together.
Boom. No warning.
Stock prices dipped again. The board of directors rumbled there was too much chaos, too much emotional fallout and not enough strategy. They weren’t sure how the merger would play out, and the board hated uncertainty.
She wasn’t so sure she disagreed with them. She trusted her family. But the Mikkelsons? She’d been raised to consider them the enemy. Had that feud ended just because their patriarch had died? Could the entire contentious atmosphere be blamed on one person?
Not likely.
She needed to solidify her role in the company. She was keeping a close eye on things from a legal perspective, but she’d need to win as many allies as possible to act on any discrepancies she found. She didn’t know how the rival companies would be blended or how leadership positions would be divided. Nabbing Royce Miller for her family’s team would go a long way in garnering loyalty and upping her professional profile.
But she would be a fool to think she could accomplish that tonight. She would settle in and watch his body language; she’d wait for that moment when he started to relax. Another courtroom tactic with a practical application.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her how little she’d eaten. She’d only managed a few crackers in the morning and a cup of soup at lunch.
Now? She was ravenous. Yes, she had a job to do here with Royce, but she also needed to take care of her baby and keep track of what she ate. With her finicky taste buds lately, it was all too easy to skip eating until she was nearly dizzy, like now.
Setting aside the tablet, she stood and made her way to the kitchenette, sidestepping the table where Royce tapped away at his computer. He glanced up just as she opened the minifridge.
Royce tipped back in his chair, eyeing her with heavy-lidded dark eyes. “That’s my food.”
“I’ll be glad to pay for my portion of this pudding cup and pear.” She tossed the fruit in the air and caught it with a quick snap. “We’re stranded. Do you intend to let me starve—or make me freeze out there ice fishing?”
He chuckled softly, a whiskey rich sound. “If you’re hungry, help yourself to anything in the pantry.”
“I am starving, actually. Bear hunting is quite exhausting.” She crunched a bite of the pear and searched for a spoon. “Can I make you something, to earn my keep and all? I imagine grading papers is tiring.”
“I’m fine. I ate earlier.” He toyed with his abacus key chain, thumbing the beads back and forth. “Thank you though.”
Inspiration struck and she sliced the pear instead. Suddenly, scooping the slices through the chocolate pudding sounded five-star awesome. Her taste buds seemed to vacillate between “no way” and “oh my God good,” these days.
Settling across from him again, she scooped and crunched, savored and watched. A lot of oh my God good for the senses around this place.
Sighing, he finally met her gaze. “What?”
Blinking fast, she smiled widely. “Sorry. Am I bothering you?”
“I’m used to working alone, in quiet.” His gaze homed in on her snack plate.
“Sorry the snowstorm didn’t accommodate. Truly. It could be days, so honestly, it will be easier if we make nice, perhaps talk a bit. You can’t work all the time.”
He closed his computer again and scooped up the key chain. “Fine. Let’s talk. Aren’t you worried I’m a serial killer?”
In a whisper, she asked, trying to ease him into a conversation. Tease him a bit. She had enough brothers to know this tactic would probably work. “Are you?”
“My answer isn’t going to matter.” The abacus beads clicked under his fingers. “You know that, right?”
He had a point, but he didn’t know she wasn’t operating blind here. She wouldn’t be able to carry this off long without risking alienating him altogether. “I’m an incredibly insightful person.”
“From meeting so many people at work.”
She looked up sharply. “Yes, actually.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m not a serial killer. I’m just an antisocial scientist.”
“That must be tough to maintain in the classroom, Professor.”
“Works fine in a lecture hall.” He set his key chain down again.
Her mind zipped back to the first time she’d heard him speaking to an auditorium full of students and even professionals who’d joined the class to hear him. He saw the oil industry through revolutionary eyes. He walked a difficult line in making all sides of the spectrum happy, upping production while finding ways to increase safety and decrease ecological impact. His brain was every bit as sexy as his body.
O-kay.
Her distraction level was peaking.
She shot to her feet, tossed her empty pudding cup in the trash and popped the last slice of pear into her mouth.
“I thought you were going to eat and read?”
“I think I’m just going to turn in. Since you’re not a serial killer.” She winked.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you need some sweats?”
“I think I’ll be fine in my thermal leggings and undershirt. Although I may need to take you up on that offer of sweats tomorrow when wash time comes.” Guilt tugged at her. She really wasn’t playing fair. “Thank you for being so nice about letting me stay here.”
“Don’t be so quick to thank me. I may not be a serial killer, but that doesn’t mean I’m giving up my bed for you.”
And there he went being funny again, like with his litany against the bear. “I didn’t ask you to give me your bed.”
Although she couldn’t deny the raw attraction crackling tangibly in the air. The fire of it filled her mind with images of sharing that bed with him. Something must have flickered in her eyes because his widened, then narrowed, holding hers.
His head tipped to the side.
Nerves tingled along her skin, an unusual occurrence. She wasn’t one to back down. Ever.
Perhaps she could call this a retreat. She swallowed, trying to recover from the heat in his dark eyes. “The sofa’s more than fine. Thank you.”
His chair legs lowered to all four on the floor again. “It’s okay, Naomi. Take the bed. I’ll be working late, anyway.”
“But—”
The words died on her lips as he shook his head. “My mama wouldn’t have it any other way. Manners and all. I’ll sack out on the sofa. Good night, Naomi.”
Good night?
Sleep felt like the furthest thing possible.
* * *
Naomi woke up, legs tangled in the tan satin comforter.
It was dark overhead, but that didn’t mean anything in Alaska. She checked her watch and...holy cow. It was already five in the morning. She’d slept for nearly nine hours, out like a log. She shoved her hair back from her face.
When would she get used to these pregnancy hormones owning her body?
She was grateful for her baby, but she sure hadn’t expected so many physical changes in a couple of months. Slowly, she sat up, wary, but her stomach stayed steady.
Scanning the studio area, she looked for Royce but found the space empty except for the dog snoozing under the table. The computer was nowhere in sight. Apparently, Royce wasn’t leaving it unattended any longer.
Behind the wall that housed the headboard, she heard the shower running. That explained where her “roomie” was. And even though they’d both been in and out of the bathroom area last night, this was different. Thinking of him there, without his clothes, in that tiled shower sent a tingle down her spine clear to her toes.
She needed to distract herself. Pronto.
Naomi flipped back the covers, her fleece-lined leggings and undershirt soft against her skin. Thank goodness Alaskan weather meant layers. That left her with extra clothes while she stayed here longer than she’d expected.
She would sneak a call to her brother while she had privacy. Her backpack held the basics, just enough to seem normal on a day trip, and she refused to vainly wish for her closet full of clothes and makeup.
Focus.
She fished out her phone with the booster signal and dialed up her oldest brother, Broderick. With their dad in the throes of new love and planning a wedding, Broderick had become the de facto head of their family with orders from their father to make peace. Their dad had demanded that the Steeles and Mikkelsons unite as a family and a company. Get along—or sell their shares and move on.
Broderick had been charged with aligning the finances of the two companies, along with rival CFO Glenna Mikkelson. They’d surprised everyone by resuming their brief college romance...and now they were engaged and raising Glenna’s daughter together.
If Broderick and Glenna could balance romance and work, why couldn’t her father and his new “girlfriend” tend to the business angle, or at least participate more in the transition? The rest of them were barely treading water keeping up with the abrupt changes, keeping board members calm—and watching their backs as siblings on either side of the merged family jockeyed for top-dog position. The only Mikkelson son who seemed to be out of the running was Trystan, who managed their family’s ranch and insisted he wanted no part of anything that required a suit.
Naomi kept one ear on the shower and another on the phone. The call rang and rang, then went to voice mail. She tried again with no luck.
Looking at the one bar of connectivity, she knew her chance to phone out could be limited. Sighing, she quickly dialed her sister Delaney. She wasn’t as in-your-face as their brother about the business. But Delaney had a stubborn streak a mile long, especially when it came to ecological protection.
Perhaps her sister should have been her first call instead of Broderick.
Two rings in, Delaney picked up. “How’s it going?”
Naomi wandered to the curved sofa lining part of the igloo wall for a better vantage point to monitor the bathing area for the second Royce stepped out. “I’m getting to know him. But he’s not chatty. His dog’s a better conversationalist.”
Her sister laughed lightly. “But you’re talking to the great Dr. Royce Miller. That’s more than anyone else has managed to accomplish. I’m impressed.”
“I’ve got crazy-good lawyering skills.” She injected punch in her tone, more than she was feeling. She was fading fast energywise. What a strange, unexpected turn her expedition here had taken.
“That you do.”
“Was that an actual compliment?” Naomi teased, relaxing into the familiarity of a normal conversation with her sister. She was lucky to have a large family, three brothers and a sister. They were such a great support.
And as she thought of her family, she couldn’t help but think of her mother and her sister Brea, who were gone. Losing them had left such a hole in her heart—and a need for stability.
“Hey, was that insecurity, Naomi?” Delaney’s tone was anything but teasing. More like stunned.
Few knew that shy Delaney had far more fight in her than Naomi did. Delaney chewed up corporate types who showed disregard for the environment. Delaney’s latest target for scathing letters to the editors had been bigwig investor Birch Montoya, which did prove a bit problematic since the family business could use his financial endorsement, especially if they were to take on something as big as making Royce Miller’s style of changes.
If Naomi won Royce Miller.
“Insecurity?” Not that she would admit. “Never. It’s just nice to hear affirmation.” Especially at a time when she was questioning herself. So many changes. So many hormones. And she still had to face telling her family about the pregnancy. “Things are strange in the family right now. How were Dad and Jeannie at dinner last night? Sorry to have crashed early.” Pregnancy had made her so sleepy.
“Dad and Jeannie are the same. They’re like teenagers planning their wedding. Not that they’re waiting on the ceremony. That day Glenna and Broderick found them in the shower togeth—”
“Stop,” Naomi said fast, half laughing. “My brain is on fire with the image.”
“Imagine if we’d actually been there.” Delaney chuckled softly, then the sound dwindled. “The thing that’s starting to get to me though...if this was our mom and dad, we would think it was romantic. Granted, no one needs the full Monty.”
“Can you please stop with the naked references?” Her eyes drifted back to the shower area. To Royce. There was a sauna there too. Oh, the possibilities heated her thoughts.
Her warm forehead rested against the cool glass wall. Lights around the property barely pierced the blizzard.
“I never would have pegged you for a prude.”
Ouch, that stung, not that she intended to let Delaney know. “Well, it’s not like you’re in the middle of some torrid affair, either.”
Silence stretched between them.
Putting Naomi on alert. She straightened. “Are you?”
“My love life is tame. I’m too busy with work. You’re just imaging things after all that time you spent helping your friend revamp online dating profiles.”
Naomi sensed something in her sister’s voice beyond the simple teasing, but with a crackly cell phone reception, perhaps now wasn’t the best time to push on personal stuff. Though she couldn’t deny she was curious. “How’re things going with smoothing Birch Montoya’s ruffled feathers?”
“I’m working on it. It’s just...not that simple for me. I feel like we would be taking money from the devil, given his stance on protecting the environment.”
“Then that makes it all the more important for me to bring Royce on board to balance things out.” Naomi chewed her lip for a moment before adding, “It’s all so complicated.”
“The business as much as the family.” Delaney’s words carried a hefty sigh. “It’s not that I don’t want Dad to move on. I’m just having trouble with him choosing a life with her.”
And from all indications, Jeannie Mikkelson’s kids were having a difficult time with the shocker romance, as well. Sure, Jeannie’s husband had been dead for two years—of a heart attack. But the families had been at war for so long. So many harsh words and character assassinations had taken place. And the gossip. Someone went so far as to hint the Mikkelsons had played a part in the fatal plane crash that killed Brea and their mother—completely unsubstantiated and unbelievable. But investors were going to find it tough to overlook divisions so deep and public.
Naomi toyed with a lock of her hair. “Broderick is marrying a Mikkelson. Are you saying that’s a problem?”
“I’m just saying it’s not easy.”
Back in college, Broderick and Glenna had indulged in a poorly hidden brief affair, then split up. Glenna had married someone else and become a widow before reuniting with Broderick very recently.
“And now they have a precious baby.” A baby conceived when Glenna’s husband had an affair shortly before he came down with pancreatic cancer and died. And yet, Glenna and Broderick still loved Fleur unconditionally. They were in the process of making the adoption official after the baby had been abandoned by her mother.
Naomi’s hand slid over her stomach and she wondered if her child would have a father’s love someday.
“Fleur’s pretty awesome.” The smile in Delaney’s voice was unmistakable. “You should see her wave her fists. I’m certain she’s bumping my fist on purpose.”
“Of course she is,” Naomi joked right back. “Sing her an extra lullaby from Aunt Naomi.”
“You can’t carry a tune.”
“That’s why you’re going to sing it for me.” The shower silenced in the bathroom. Naomi’s heart did a flip against her rib cage. She really needed a game plan for dealing with the sexy scientist before he emerged. “Gotta go now. Love you.”
She thumbed her phone off fast and bent over to shove it in her backpack, making sure the security code locked the screen. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, as if she was being watched. She checked the dog, but Tessie was sound asleep and snoring which could only mean...
Naomi straightened slowly and turned to find Royce. Big and awake and sexy, he stood in low-slung sweatpants, towel-drying his hair. He watched her with so much heat in his eyes, she barely resisted the urge to drag a finger down the glass windows to check for steamy condensation.
* * *
Delaney Steele had a secret.
Sliding the cell phone into her coat pocket, she hoped what she’d been doing—was about to do again—wouldn’t wreck her sister’s plan with Royce Miller.
But she just couldn’t bring herself to tell Naomi.
Stepping out of her SUV into the snowy parking lot, Delaney braced herself for the walk into the Steele family headquarters. Wind whipped hard off the mountains, bringing a frosty bite against her cheek until she yanked up the deep hood of her parka.
Maybe Delaney was too adept at keeping things hidden, until it just became instinct. Such as how she wasn’t as shy as she pretended to be. Or how she’d kissed her sister’s boyfriend in high school. Or that she was scared of everyone’s dogs, but didn’t want to hurt their feelings.
Or how she fought survivor’s guilt every day of her life.
She’d pretended to have the flu before the fateful flight that had shattered her family. Her mother had discovered the faked fever. Delaney had begged her mom not to go. Silly really. She’d just wanted her to stay to go shopping for makeup. Naomi had offered to accompany Delaney instead. Case closed.
Their mom and sister, Brea, had left for the flight—late. If they’d been on time...
What-ifs could rule a life.
Messenger bag tucked under her arm, Delaney put her head down and trudged forward, boots crunching through the icy crust that no amount of salting and shoveling could clear on mornings like this one. Forward was the only way she knew, after all.
These days, with so many regrets, she lived each day determined to grasp what she wanted and not add a single new item to that list. So hell no, she wasn’t even close to being the crusader, the good girl her family believed. She’d only wanted to somehow make a mark, somehow help other families not suffer the pain hers had experienced.
She just hoped her current secret didn’t torpedo all of Naomi’s careful plans. Because Delaney was in so deep now, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself if she tried.
