“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
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 “ad
optive” 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.
Not that she wasn’t sentimental. Instead, she had a few handwritten cards displayed, pinned to a corkboard. These mementos helped her through the dark days, when the important work she did weighed heavy on her mind. Felicity needed reminders of light.
Compelled by memories, Felicity reached for the letter Angie, the social worker who made all the difference in her life, penned upon Felicity’s acceptance of her first social worker job. She hadn’t worked here long, but already files were piling up on her desk. The workload was heavy, but each day came with opportunities to touch lives. Already, she’d added a new note to her board, a thank-you from a young patient and her parents, alongside others from the past she’d brought from her other job.
She gathered up the files and stowed them in a drawer, trying to tidy up before Conrad Steele and Isabeau Mikkelson arrived. Felicity kneed the drawer closed. Her office wasn’t as grand as anything in Conrad’s work world, but she was proud of her new space, with a corner window. Her framed diplomas might not be Ivy League, but she’d finished with honors, the first in her family to attend college. She’d worked two jobs to put herself through. It had taken her an extra year in undergraduate school, as well as an extra semester to complete her master’s in social work. But she’d never given up on her dream.
People like Conrad didn’t understand what it was like to have no family support. She didn’t blame him or resent him for that. However, she couldn’t help but feel they came from different planets and he could never fully understand her journey.
A tap on her door pulled her from her thoughts. She smoothed back her hair on her way across the room. Nerves fluttered in her stomach at just the prospect of seeing Conrad. She willed herself to take three slow breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth, the way she coached patients to do.
She opened the door. There wasn’t enough air in the room to calm her reaction to the man on the other side of the threshold.
Conrad’s broad shoulders filled out the designer suit jacket, his overcoat and Stetson in hand. “Isabeau’s running a little behind. Her OB doctor was held up.”
“Come in.” Felicity gestured through, willing herself not to think about how much smaller the space was with him inside.
He hung his coat and hat on the rack in the corner before turning back to face her. “Isabeau said she should be here in about ten minutes.”
They were going to discuss procedures for including more therapy dogs in the pediatric ward. Felicity had seen amazing results from therapy dogs with children, but she wanted more information on channels for ensuring the dogs were the right fit. She knew enough to realize that just because a dog was affectionate didn’t make it a therapy dog candidate.
Isabeau had information on programs that tested dogs and provided training to the therapy dog’s owner. She’d also mentioned discussing the different levels of work, varying from simply sitting with a reading group to assisting someone in a recovery setting.
Conrad tapped along her note board and framed art from patients. “These notes and pictures are incredible.”
“They’ve gotten me through some rough days at work.”
He shot her a wide smile. “This beats my wall of fame, hands down.”
“You won’t find me disagreeing with that,” she couldn’t resist retorting, grinning back. “There’s an indescribable thrill when my job works the way it should.”
“I can hear that in your voice.” He sat on the corner of her desk, the Alaska skyline stretched out behind him through the window. “That compassion is what makes you such a success.”
She leveled a stare his way. “I’m also not won over by idle flattery. You don’t know enough about my work to judge how successful I am or am not.”
“I do know, from your wall there and your boss’s confidence in you to represent the hospital with the charity foundation.”
His words stopped her short, stirring confusion. She’d been so certain Conrad had orchestrated their working together on the program. “Oh, uh...”
“What?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m just...surprised.” She searched his face. “I thought you pressured my boss into choosing me for the project.”
“Absolutely not,” he said without hesitation. “You don’t know me all that well or you wouldn’t say it, much less think it. When it comes to business, I’m no-nonsense. My brother has the soft heart.”
“He seems gruff and you’re all smiles.” She studied him for a moment longer even though she could swear she knew every handsome detail of his face, every line that spoke of experience. He was all man and she was far, far from unaffected. “And that’s how you two catch people off guard in negotiations. People don’t expect gentleness from your brother and ruthlessness from you.”
He ran a hand through his dark, gray-flecked hair, hand stopping on the back of his neck. A boyish kind of charm that she hadn’t noticed he’d possessed. Conrad—a complex man of many mysteries.
“Ruthless? Ouch.” He clapped a splayed hand over his heart. “How did I go from all smiles and charm to ruthless so fast?”
She wasn’t sure. Just when she thought she had him pegged, he surprised her. “I guess I’m learning to get to know you. Wasn’t that your goal in pursuing me?”
“You could say that, although I was hoping for something more persuasive than ruthless.”
“Ruthlessness can be a good thing, when channeled properly.”
His blue eyes heated, the air crackling between them. “And do you think I’ve been channeled properly?”
She ached to lean in closer to him to see if the temperature continued to rise the nearer she came. And then she realized...she was being played.
Felicity angled back. “I ask questions for a living, you know, and it’s to keep som
eone talking rather than having them do the asking.”
“Busted.” He shrugged unrepentantly.
Fine. She could go toe-to-toe with this man. “My training also makes me believe you only want me because I’m telling you no.”
“Let’s test your theory.” He lifted her hand, the calluses on his fingertips touching her skin, arousing her. “Say yes to a date. See if my interest evaporates. It won’t, by the way. But go ahead. Try.”
“Now you’ve changed to charming again.” She should pull her hand from his. Should. But didn’t.
Instead, her imagination ran wild with the possibility of having his raspy touch all over her body. Her senses filled with the crisp, outdoorsy scent of him.
A cleared throat in the doorway broke the spell like a splash of chilling reality. She tugged her hand away quickly. But she was certain he didn’t miss her guilty flinch.
Felicity took in a very pregnant Isabeau, whose slender hand rested gently on her baby bump. She wore a violet knit sweater dress, her shoulder-length red hair perfectly styled into loose romantic waves. Even in her eighth month, Isabeau had a chic style that she put to use in her PR profession. Felicity had been impressed with her when accompanying the Steeles to the ballet last month.
Isabeau looked at them with curiosity in her eyes. “I’m sorry to be late. Thank you for waiting.”
Thank goodness Isabeau hadn’t commented on, well, the obvious. Felicity adjusted the second chair so it was closer to the pregnant woman. “How was your appointment?”
Smiling her thanks, Isabeau sank into the seat with a sigh. “We’re watching the baby’s weight because of my diabetes.” Diabetes could cause a baby to be larger. “But, thankfully, all appears to be on track. I’ll finish up plans for the hospital dinner and still have two weeks to put my feet up before my son is born.”
Isabeau and Trystan had shared the gender news, but were keeping the name a secret.
Conrad patted her shoulder. “That’s great news from the doctor.”
The Billionaire Renegade Page 4
