The people who’d saved her had stolen her, and that was eating him up inside.
Jack dropped to sit beside Jeannie on the sofa. He would rather talk about anything except that damn statement. “That was Ward Benally. He had some questions for the board. He’s a tough negotiator. We’ll be lucky to get him.”
Jeannie smiled warmly, her pink lips pressing together. She turned her head, running gentle fingers through his still-thick hair. “And you’re truly alright with giving over control of the company to an outsider?”
She stroked from his head down to the nape of his neck. With an expert touch, she massaged him softly.
“Are you?” He brought her manicured hand over his lap, massaging her palms as he knew she enjoyed.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Well, none of our children seem interested in the position.”
“They’re forging their own paths. That’s admirable.” He tapped the boxes at her feet with his boot. “What’s all of this?”
“I’m sorting through old letters from my brother and sister.” She glanced at Jack with pain-filled eyes. “I don’t want to believe that Lyle and Willa could have anything to do with what happened to your family. But I can’t bury my head in the sand.”
Her fear cut through him. While he wanted—needed—answers about the crash that had torn apart his family, he couldn’t ignore how explosive those discoveries might be.
He leaned toward the box, sifting through the contents, aged paper brittle to the touch. As fragile as the future. “What are you expecting to find in these?”
“I don’t know exactly. Maybe something that places them in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or even some hint that one of them had a connection to the airplane mechanic involved.”
It had been quite a blow to realize Marshall’s fiancée’s father had been the mechanic who’d worked on the plane that fated flight. Tally’s dad had killed himself out of guilt, so now they couldn’t ask him if his role had been deliberate or accidental.
And if it had been deliberate, why? At whose instigation?
“Have you found anything?”
“Nothing concrete, I’m afraid. But there’s a lot here to sort through.” The words practically leaped out of Jeannie’s mouth.
“Can I help?”
“You could, but I’m not sure it’s the best idea. You don’t know them the way I do. You might miss a subtext, or a reference to something in our past that seems innocuous.”
Suspicion lit. Was she trying to keep him away from those letters for another reason?
There was no denying that Jeannie’s siblings had sketchy pasts. Her brother had been mixed up in shady deals more than once. And Willa had man problems and drug problems that had led her to give up her son, Trystan, for Jeannie to raise, and Jeannie had embraced the boy into the fold unreservedly. Most didn’t even know he wasn’t her biological son.
One thing Jack was certain of. If Jeannie’s family had been in any way involved in that crash, Jeannie had no knowledge of it. He trusted her.
If only he could say the same about her siblings. Hell, even about her first husband.
And although Jack trusted her, how would any negative news about her family affect his children? Affect how they felt about Jeannie?
He’d thought the worst of their families’ feud had passed once he and Jeannie had married. There was no way he could have foreseen anything like this.
A knot formed in Jack’s throat. He’d been given this second chance at happiness, one he’d never expected to find. And he’d been so damned grateful. But how could he have guessed that the Mikkelson-Steele divide might have far darker depths than old mistrust or even corporate espionage?
Because he’d also never imagined that the return of his long-lost daughter could threaten to tear his marriage apart.
Nine
Conrad intended to make the most of the time he had left with Felicity planning the hospital charity dinner. Sleeping together had in no way eased the sensual tension during those working sessions. In fact, it only increased since now he knew just how good they were together.
Sitting beside her at the table in the Alaska Oil Barons Inc. boardroom, he reviewed the financial spreadsheet while she finalized the seating chart now that the RSVPs were locked down. Felicity left work early once a week for them to hammer out details for the event. The rest was accomplished between them by text and emails. This would be their final, in-person meeting since the hospital dinner was scheduled for the end of the week.
The gust from the heater vent carried the floral scent of her shampoo, tempting his every breath. The same scent that clung to his pillow after they were together.
For the past two weeks, he’d done his best to romance her out of bed, as well. Time was running out.
He’d taken her on a dinner cruise, with stunning glacier views. Another night, they’d gone to a dinner theater. He could still hear the melodic sound of her laughter echoing in his head, reverberations calling to mind her soft skin, her supple lips.
He stole a sidelong glance at her. She swiped along her tablet, rearranging the seating chart graphic with one hand. With the other, she popped chocolate-covered pretzels into her mouth. A gift he’d sent her. It made him smile to see he’d chosen well.
“I’m glad to see you stopped giving away my gifts to the nurses’ station.” He stole a chocolate pretzel from the dish.
She grimaced, hair falling in front of her slender face, calling attention to her angled jaw. “I didn’t mean for you to know that.”
“It was the nicest way I’ve ever been rejected,” he said with a grin. “I’m glad we’ve moved past that, though.”
For how long?
“You’re spoiling me so much, I’ve had to double my time on the treadmill.” She pulled the dish closer. “Not that I’m giving these up.”
Her playfulness reignited the barely banked fire in him. He was enjoying the hell out of getting to know the different sides of her. “I’ll have to look into chocolate coffees.”
“You’re going to melt me.” She stroked her foot along his calf under the table, out of sight of anyone who might walk by the conference room.
He slid a hand down to caress her leg, the linen of her suit warmed from her body. “That’s my intention.”
Footsteps and conversation from the hall broke them apart quickly.
Part of the rules—no one could see them. No PDA. Felicity had held hard and fast to this.
Withdrawing his hand to the top of the long table in the Steele building, he already missed the feeling of her. She leaned forward in her office chair. Imperceptible to outside eyes. But a secretive flick of her eyes told a different story. Ever so slightly closer to him without arousing any kind of suspicion.
Fire burned in his blood.
He glanced at the seating chart. With the board of directors for the hospital and the Alaska Oil Barons Inc., with their plus-ones and special guests, the dinner party included just over one hundred. It would also mark the first official function for Ward Benally as the new CEO.
“What do you think of Ward Benally?”
“What I think doesn’t matter.” She swept her finger along the screen, shifting the table placements, swapping around the location for the musicians’ stage. “The decision’s already been made to move forward with the hire.”
“So you don’t like him?” he pressed.
“I’ve barely met the man,” she answered. Evasively? Or diplomatically?
He’d learned that her years of social work made Felicity’s face sometimes hard to read. She knew how to bury emotions and feelings. To center her features in an expression of neutrality. Conrad had learned to treat her unguarded emotions as a treasure.
“I’m curious about your impressions of him. You have good instincts.” He meant what he said. The more time he
spent with her, the more he enjoyed her beyond just sexual attraction. “Maybe it’s from your training. Or maybe it’s innate in you and that’s what drew you to the profession. Regardless, I’m curious what you think.”
Pushing her tablet away, she rolled back her chair, turning it toward him. “You want tips on how to handle him as the head of the company.”
“Partly,” he admitted, but couldn’t deny it was more than that. “I also want to protect my brother. I’m not sure he’s at the top of his game right now.”
Her bright eyes met his. He felt her intelligence sparking as she nodded.
“That would be understandable for your brother, given the shock of finding out his daughter’s alive—and that by her own admission in her written statement, she chose not to contact him.”
Conrad had trouble wrapping his brain around Brea’s recounting of having lived with a family off the grid who had claimed her as their own. It was...too much. He needed to focus on what he could handle, control and change.
The present.
“I need to be sure Benally is the right person to take over this company my family has poured their hearts into.”
Felicity splayed her hands on the table, her voice soft yet empathetic. “As I understand it, the recommendation may have come from your brother, but you told me the board had to vote. The process of checks and balances is there for a reason.”
True enough. It was still difficult to see his brother step down and pass over the company to someone out of the family. Although it felt hypocritical to complain when Conrad wasn’t willing to take the helm either.
“Then what do you think of Benally?”
“Cutthroat businessman. He’ll do well for your company,” she said without hesitation.
“That simple?”
“He’s the type who lives, eats and breathes the job. That’s my impression.”
Relief swept through him. “Okay, then. I can rest easy that the company will thrive.”
“You trust my opinion that much?” Her mouth curved into a surprised smile.
He did. Her brain was every bit as sexy as the rest of her. “That’s why I asked.”
He lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist, giving her fingers a quick squeeze before letting go.
Her pupils widened in response. A surge of desire pumped through him, along with a vow to kiss every inch of her later when they were alone.
She cleared her throat and rolled her chair back to the conference table. “What are we going to do about entertainment since the string quartet bowed out?”
The cellist had come down with influenza, which had progressed into pneumonia. The others in the group were showing symptoms of the flu. Even if they recovered in time, the risk that one of them might be contagious was too great. The last place they needed to be performing was in a hospital full of vulnerable patients.
Conrad spun his smartphone on the conference table. “I called Ada Joy Powers and she tentatively committed as long as her agent confirms the scheduling works. Ada Joy was a big hit at the steampunk gala last November.”
“Are you sure we can afford her and stay within budget? She’s such a big name and the steampunk gala was a huge affair.” Felicity studied the budget sheet before looking back up at him.
He hesitated before answering, but then she would find out eventually anyway. “I’m going to cover the cost. That will give us more money to apply to the menu.”
“That’s very generous of you.”
“Something needed to happen fast. I took care of it. The expense is minor.”
She laughed. “To you maybe.” She tipped her head to the side, her silky hair fanning forward. “So you have Ada Joy Powers’s personal number...”
Was she jealous? “Is that a question?”
“I know I’ve said I’m not interested in a long-term relationship, but I don’t take sleeping together lightly.” She clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles went white. “I expect exclusivity for the time we’re together.”
Of all the things he could have predicted she would say, this wasn’t on the list. But he was damn glad to hear it. “Good. Because so do I.”
Her gaze locked with his, and he’d been with her long enough now to read her expression with total clarity.
She wanted him. Now. As much as he wanted her.
To hell with work.
He slid back his chair at the exact same moment she did the same. And he knew just where he intended to take her.
Felicity hadn’t even known there was a penthouse apartment in the Alaska Oil Barons Inc. headquarters. Conrad told her it was for the occasions when one of the family had to work late.
He’d also said it was the nearest, fastest place he could bring her, this luxury condo with towering ceilings and an incredible view of the icy bay. Even this emergency stopover for the Steele and Mikkelson families could easily fit three of her apartments. Her heeled boots reverberated on the hardwood floor that connected the living room to a recessed kitchen and dining area. Intricate stonework on the walls framed the window overlooking the bay. And that was as much attention as she wanted to give the place.
The man in front of her was far more enticing.
She stroked the back of his neck as he tapped in a code locking the door. He continued to type along the panel, the fireplace glowing to life. The makings of an idyllic evening. The flames crackled, an echo she felt in the way Conrad’s blue eyes fell on her. Even through his button-up shirt, Felicity could make out the suggestion of the hard planes of his chest. Over the past two weeks, his body had become seared in her memory. She craved him. On so many levels.
Enticed, she drew his head down to hers, his kiss intoxicating. His briefcase thudded to the hardwood floor along with her purse. They walked deeper into the living room, their legs tangling as they tugged at each other’s clothes. His fingers made fast work of the buttons on her blouse. She swept aside his suit coat and tugged his crisp shirt free of the waistband, sighing with pleasure as she reached bare skin, stroking up his broad back.
Nibbling his way to her ear, he whispered, “I take it to mean you approve of the place.”
She loosened his tie, then tugged it off. Slowly. One seductive inch at a time.
“Have you brought anyone else up here before?” She hated the words the moment they left her mouth, much like when she’d asked about Ada Joy. A spiral of doubt and pain opened beneath her, threatening the here and now. Years of hurt from her failed marriage screamed in her ears.
Felicity shut down the thoughts before they threatened to steal this moment from her. Time was running out until the dinner, her deadline for this relationship. She shouldn’t care about his answer. What they had was casual.
She pressed her fingers to Conrad’s lips. “Don’t answer. Just kiss me.”
She was a stronger woman than that. She didn’t need affirmations.
He pulled her hand from his mouth. “I have not brought anyone here. Anytime I stayed in this place, I stayed alone.”
His answer mattered. Too much. And the affirmation filled a hollow place inside her.
She forced herself to breathe. “Well, I’m happy you thought of it now.”
“You’re an inspiration.”
“Get ready to be majorly inspired.”
Her mind filled with possibilities, a list she intended to put to good use. She lost herself in the power of his kiss, his touch, pausing only to snag a condom from his wallet. The urgency pumping through her veins surprised her, given how often they’d been together over the past weeks. But rather than dulling the edge, sating the need, her desire for him ramped up. She couldn’t get the rest of his clothes off fast enough. His discarded garments mixed with hers in a trail over the thick Persian rug until they were both bare, skin to skin.
This man undid her in so many ways.
Keeping her boundaries in place around him was a constant battle, to the point she sometimes wondered why she bothered. He was so good at sliding right past them when she least expected it. Like when he’d asked her what she thought of the new CEO hire. As if he deeply valued her opinion.
Damn it. Enjoy the here and now.
She let go of the thoughts and just held on to him. She tapped him on the chest, nudging him toward the large-striped club chair.
Grasping the armrests, he sat, his gaze a blue flame heating over her. Setting her on fire. She stepped between his knees and took her time rolling the condom into place, savoring the feel and heat of him.
She straddled his lap, her hands flat against his chest. Her eyes locked on his, she eased herself down, taking him inside her. His chest rose and fell faster under her palms, his pulse quickening against her fingertips.
He gripped her hips, guiding her as she met him thrust for thrust. Deeper. Faster. Their speeding breaths synced, sweat glistening and slicking their flesh. Desire built inside her, crackling through her veins as hotly as the flames in the hearth. Her breasts grazed his chest, his bristly hair teasing her overly sensitive nipples to taut peaks.
This man moved her in a way none had before. Not even her ex-husband.
Again, she pushed away thoughts of the past and focused on the present, on taking the most from this moment. Savoring every blissful sensation. The future could be faced later.
She deserved this, wanted this, craved more. Everything.
And he delivered, intuitively knowing just where to touch and stroke her to the edge of completion, easing up, then bringing her to the brink all over again until she was frenzied with need. Unable to restrain herself any longer.
Her head fell back, her cries of pleasure riding each panting breath as her orgasm built, crested, crashed over her in a shimmer of sensation. He thrust once, twice more, his hoarse groan mixing with her sighs, his finish shuddering through him.
Sated, she sagged against his chest. His hands stroked along her back, quiet settling between them with an ease that should have been a good thing. Instead, it made her uneasy.
The Billionaire Renegade Page 12
