“Okay, space granted. For what it’s worth, even my tech isn’t getting a call through on my cell—I checked for a signal. I’m sorry. And I’m sure one of our phones will be back up soon.” He took her hand. “So how about giving yourself a second to catch your breath and gather your thoughts.” He stroked her wrist. “Your pulse is still too fast.”
“I wish I could joke that’s because of you.” Naomi’s grin didn’t quite reach her eyes.
No, Royce could see the weight the news about her father put on her. “Me too.”
Tessie nudged his back in a hello, then lay down, pressing against his side. Filling the bathroom floor to max capacity.
Naomi slumped to rest against the shower stall door. “As for being careful, I’ve been driving in snow since I could reach the pedals. But the storm did roll in faster and heavier than anyone expected. Not that I answer to you,” she repeated.
“It’s okay to be cared for.”
“Cared for is one thing. Smothered is another.”
“I assume you’re referencing your fight against cancer as a teen.”
“More like my family’s reaction afterward.”
A thought came to him, and normally he might not have presumed to ask, but talking seemed to help distract her, so hell, he could talk. “And it’s safe for you to be pregnant? Even after having had cancer and treatments?” He held up a hand. “Not smothering. I want to know.”
She lifted a shoulder, tracing the grout in the floor tile, nonchalantly. “I had eggs frozen as a teenager—”
“Hold on. Not to be invasive, but are you saying this was an in vitro?”
Her eyebrows raised. “You’re asking about the father.”
He shrugged. “As your bed partner a few hours ago, I am curious.”
“In vitro. Anonymous sperm donor,” she said clearly, succinctly. “I have no lurking boyfriends or baby daddies.”
Relief, too much, rocked through him. It shouldn’t matter this much to him. But it did. “And so you decided on in vitro fertilization.”
“I did. Granted, I made the decision before my family changed. Before we learned about Dad and Jeannie and the merger, which has shifted the world for all of us. But I want to be a mom. I’ve dated some great men, but never quite The One. I have a steady career, and my health scare has always made me aware of how important it is to embrace the day. I decided to have my baby now.”
“And if Mr. Right comes along?”
“If he can’t love my child, then he’s not Mr. Right.”
“Fair enough,” he said, the subject of children making him itch between the shoulder blades. The shadowy image of a lost baby he had never seen still haunted his dreams some nights. He knew that loss would follow him always. But this wasn’t about him. This was about her, and a grief no one should have to endure. And to face it so young? “You were talking about having cancer as a teen. I’m sorry to have interrupted you.”
She thrust her hands in her hair, scraping it back. “It was such a surreal time, wanting to hope for the future but feeling like time was running out. When you’re a teen, the future is getting invited to the prom. But because my sister died, I felt like I had to grasp every chance to experience life I could, cancer or no. I still feel that way.”
This woman. Damn. Her tenacity humbled him. To have been through so much—faced so much tragedy—and still be this strong. A helluva fighter, that was for sure. But for now, she didn’t have to fight alone. Royce wanted to take charge, fix the past for her, find solutions to unsolvable problems. The jut of her chin made it clear she was a woman who fought her own battles. And he admired that in her. Still...
Unable to resist, he cupped her shoulder, hoping she would accept that much comfort at least. She swayed a hint, as if she might lean against his chest and take the solace he ached to give her.
A ding sliced through the moment. Naomi looked down at her phone in disbelief. The signal meant a break in the storm. She nibbled on her bottom lip, took a steadying breath. Then, as if she was channeling all her strength, he watched her spine straighten, the composed lawyer taking over her body. “I guess that means the phone connection’s back for now.” She pushed to her feet. “I should call right away before we lose connectivity again.”
In an instant, he watched her spring to her feet and blur past him. Angling over him and Tessie, she made her way to the living area, leaving Royce seated on the tile floor.
* * *
Curled up on the sofa, Naomi scrunched her warm toes beneath the thick chunky blanket Royce had unearthed from the closet. She clutched the cell phone, pressing it hard against her ear as if the mere pressure would ensure the connection’s strength.
It had taken her three tries to get through to her brother Broderick. During that time, Royce had brought her the blanket, steaming hot chocolate and an assortment of crackers.
“How is Dad?” Was that shaky voice really hers?
“They have him immobilized until the neurosurgeon decides exactly how to proceed.” Broderick’s steady voice grounded her, even if the news sent her nerves skittering.
“Immobilized?” Her mind reeled, attempting to imagine a force strong enough to keep her father down for any length of time. “Neurosurgeon?”
“He broke his back...two bones in his neck, actually.” The words thundered through the cell speaker, piercing her heart. Stunned silence. Broderick must have sensed her tension. His hurried reassurance came next. “But he’s still able to move his arms and legs.”
“He broke his neck?” The words felt foreign to her tongue, like she’d been tasting a strange reality. Her eyes sought Royce across the room, craving that connection. Damn it, how had she let herself lean on him already?
“He cracked the top two vertebrae, the C1 and C2. Actually, the C2 has a peg on it that goes through the C1. That peg is broken. Right now, there’s no nerve impingement and he’s able to move his legs.”
She tried to call to mind anatomy textbooks to envision what Broderick was talking about—a diagram of her strong father’s frame inside a force of personality that had always been indomitable.
Broderick’s textured and overwhelmed sigh filled the speaker. “But he has to stay in bed, in a brace. He can’t move his head and, God knows, he can’t fall. And he must—” his voice cracked for the first time, and then he cleared his throat “—he must survive through surgery. It’s risky, but there’s no choice.”
Naomi absently reached for the hot cocoa on the end table, needing the feeling of warmth, of something, as she turned over her brother’s words. Better to reach for that than the appealing man across the room who had offered her the comfort she truly craved. The steam danced around her face, and she blew on the beverage, scattering the steam into the studio’s air. “I can’t imagine—” her own voice hitched this time, but she cleared it “—a world without Dad.”
“Or a world where Dad’s paralyzed.”
A gut-sinking feeling anchored her to the sofa. “Did the surgeon give any more details about the surgery? How is surgery going to fix the break?”
“Apparently, there’s a small screw they can put into the peg on the C2 that will hold it in place. Then he wears the neck brace for six weeks, but there’s not as much risk as letting it heal on its own, which could take months and a halo.”
“That sounds good.” She grasped at the hope.
“The surgery is done so rarely, the screw isn’t in stock and has to be special ordered. Most people who have this kind of break don’t survive.”
“Okay, scary, but also a relief he’s alive.” Naomi’s thoughts drifted from her own anxieties to Jeannie, her father’s fiancée. The former rival matriarch of another oil company. Heat found Naomi’s cheeks as she recalled how resistant she and her siblings had been to the family and corporate mergers. Family feuds were meaningless right now. Jeannie had already lost a hus
band to a heart attack... To lose a fiancé too... “How’s Jeannie?”
“She’s putting on a strong front, but underneath it all, I can tell she’s a mess.”
“That’s understandable. This type of accident is...incomprehensible. Dad’s such a sure seat in the saddle. He’s the last person I would have expected to have a riding accident.” Her hands shaking, she sipped the hot cocoa, the sweetness giving her an unexpected boost. Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she looked to the kitchen area where Royce meticulously cleaned the counter.
“They have staff with him, but we don’t want him left alone. So, we’ve already started making out a schedule to rotate through.”
“Do you think he’ll allow that?” Another question—a more terrifying one—intruded on her thoughts. “God, is he even alert enough to know?”
“He’s mighty clear considering the hit to the head he took. Clear enough to be frustrated, but he seems to be scared enough to be compliant.” A dark laugh blasted through the cell speaker. “And honestly, he’s not going to have a choice. We’re as stubborn as he is. We figure we’ll talk about business. He’ll let us hang out as long as we want.” Silence echoed through the phone. She could practically hear Broderick’s gears turning as he shifted topics. “How are things up there with you?”
“Still snowed in, not sure when I’ll be able to leave. I pray it’s in time for Dad’s surgery.” She paused, weighed her options, then decided she needed to update her brother. “I, uh, decided it was best to be up-front with Royce and tell him why I’m here.”
“Royce? You’re on a first-name basis?”
Brother, if you only knew.
“We have been stuck here in a snowstorm, and for longer than I expected.” She looked back at Royce, his dark features calling to her. That crackle of desire dancing along the air between them like static skipping over the rustled blanket. Excitement quickly gave way to sadness—to the reality of their situation.
“And what came of the meeting?”
Such a tricky question. She scavenged for her best lawyer voice. “We’re still in discussion.”
“You didn’t get him to sign on at Alaska Oil Barons.”
“He hasn’t signed on with anyone else. And honestly, I can’t think about that right now.”
“You’re right, of course. I guess I was just looking for a distraction.”
Thank God, she’d managed to shut her brother down on the subject of Royce Miller, because she had very little chance of getting her head on straight about him with the news of her father’s accident knocking the ground from under her. “I promise if there’s something to announce, I’ll let you know.”
* * *
The day had passed in an insignificant blur for Royce as he tried like hell to control his thoughts. He didn’t want to think of Naomi’s pregnancy. It could too easily drag him into a pit of memories about his ex-fiancée and their lost baby. He definitely didn’t want to think about Naomi’s ties to her family’s oil business and how that complicated their undeniable chemistry. So he concentrated on the weather.
The storm had let up in time for an Alaskan sunset. The open night sky above them—kept at bay by a layer of weatherproof glass.
From the kitchen, he’d watched Naomi sitting curled up in the thick blanket, her hair tumbling past her shoulders, framing that elegant face, making her dark eyes seem more inviting.
Since the retreat was so small, there was no way to give her privacy while she was on her phone call. He could tell the gist of what had happened to her father by her answers and reactions. Yes, he was still angry at her, but that had taken a backseat to what she was facing with her father’s accident. She had to be in hell right now, wanting to see her dad and being stuck up here.
Royce looked at her, sitting on the sofa, clutching the red mug of hot chocolate he’d given her. She absently stared forward, seeming lost in her own world. She’d spent most of the day like that, since the phone call. He’d replaced her hot chocolate twice between working on some reading material in the kitchen.
He cleared his throat. “From what I’ve seen via the internet, the weather is supposed to lighten up tomorrow. Hopefully it’ll be clear enough for me to drive you into town.”
She looked up sharply. “I can drive myself.”
“I thought you wanted to spend more time persuading me to join your company.” An offer to help. Damn clear she wouldn’t take it outright.
She set her mug of hot chocolate down and stood up, hand on her hip. “You’re the one who said I shouldn’t have driven up here on my own. It’s clear your ‘offer’ to drive me has more to do with machismo protectiveness than any inclination to hear a business pitch.” Her words rolled out faster and faster, her pitch getting higher. “Which—by the way—happens to be the last thing on my mind right now—”
Her words choked off and she bit her lip. Hard. Her jaw trembled.
Protective urges churned inside him. He charged over to her and hauled her to his chest, cupping her head. A shudder rippled through her along with a near-silent sob.
He held her tightly, hoping his grip meant something. He stroked her back, smoothed her hair and couldn’t help but wonder how she’d come to affect him so much in such a short time. Her pain slashed right through him. He could damn near see it flashing through his brain.
Then he realized the northern lights were beginning a path across the night sky.
“Naomi,” he said softly against her hair. “Let’s lie back and watch the lights through the ceiling.”
As if her voice no longer could be persuaded to work, she angled back to look at him and nodded, her eyes red with worry and fatigue. She pulled off her shoes, letting them drop to the floor with a thud. Tessie stirred from in front of the fire as he took off his boots. Naomi had already started scooting up the bed. He hurried to meet her, brought her close to him as they leaned back as a unit.
Perfectly synchronized.
She laid her head on his chest, and they watched the sun wink out, exchanging the mundane orange of sunset for a crackling display of stars. Pristine for lack of light pollution. In this moment, in the quiet of it all, it was easy to forget there was anyone else in the world but them, especially as the radiant green oscillations of aurora borealis painted across the sky.
Words retreated from him. She could likely use something to distract her, something else to occupy her thoughts besides her father in his hospital bed. He couldn’t find the precise thing he wanted to say to her. Every half-rehearsed formulation sounded clunky in his mind. So, he decided to share why he didn’t want her to drive off alone.
With a deep sigh, he began, his head pressing down into the feather pillows. “I was engaged. She and I grew up next door to each other, both were grades ahead in school and started college early. We became friends—at first because there weren’t many other seven-year-olds who wanted to talk about Pascal’s calculator. In our late teens, we started dating.”
He stroked her shoulder, unsure of how to proceed.
“You had a lot of history, then.” She shifted, her hair dragging across his chest as she flipped to stare at the cosmic show above them. “That had to make the breakup even more difficult. May I ask what happened?”
He swallowed. Hard. Concentrated on the crackle of fire, the sound of Tessie’s light snore. He found moments in the present to focus on. It’d be too damn easy to find himself stuck in the past. In those hard spaces. “The week before we were to get married, she lost the baby in a car accident after her father’s funeral... She pulled away after that. And I lost her too.”
“I am so sorry.”
He closed his eyes, anchoring himself on the feel of the white sheets, the soft flannel texture beneath him. “She said I was emotionally unavailable when she needed me most. She wanted a partner she could count on.”
“I can’t claim to know everything
about the situation since I’ve never met her, but I can say, if you knew each other for eleven years, then your reaction—whatever it was—couldn’t have been a surprise to her.”
“You’re good at spinning things, Counselor.”
“I’m just examining the facts.” Naomi traced her fingertips on top of his.
And now he needed to focus on the shimmering of the overhead aurora borealis to keep himself from giving in to temptation. To resist drawing her to him for a kiss they could explore at leisure. She followed his line of vision. Out of the corner of his eyes, Royce watched a smile tug at her lips as her eyes beheld the natural light show overhead.
“Naomi, I’m trying to explain why I can’t help but be protective, of you, of anyone in a similar situation. But I also want you to understand why I am the way I am, who I am.”
Her fingers trailed up his arm; sincerity and empathy seemed to radiate from her touch. “We’ve both been through a lot in the past and it shaped who we are. I don’t expect you to be anyone other than who you are. But I need for you to accept who I am.”
“And you’re independent.”
“To a fault, yes, I am. You need to give me some breathing space.”
He couldn’t hold back a bark of laughter, in fact found he welcomed it right now.
“What did I say?” Her knee slid over his calf.
His body throbbed in reaction. Damn poor timing with her face still pale. “Forget it.”
“Not a chance. What’s so amusing?”
“You promise you won’t go hormonal on me?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously? Did you just say that?”
He held up his hands. “Never mind.”
“I can’t decide if you’re trying to be funny or if you’re serious. Either way, I want to know and I will keep my infamous temper—which has nothing to do with hormones—in check.”
“I just found it ironic that you want less attention. I’ve never met a woman who wanted space.”
“That’s stereotyping.” Her lips went tight and prim, totally at odds with her sweater slipping off one shoulder.
The Double Deal Page 8
