Читать книгу The Billionaire Renegade - Catherine Mann - Страница 11
ОглавлениеConrad 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.
