* * *
Brea needed to get out of Ward’s office sooner rather than later.
How could she have let herself get caught up in flirting with him? Every second she remained here increased the chances of him finding the flash drive in her purse. She’d barely had time to peel off the latex gloves and stuff them away. If he’d seen them, he would have realized she’d been up to something shady for sure.
Although, if her fingerprints had been found on the keyboard, in the file cabinets or in the desk, she would have been in even worse trouble.
“I need to go.” Was that breathy voice hers? She cleared her throat and started toward the door.
Except, Ward’s broad chest was in her way. She should have worn heels. But she’d been thinking about stealth and not whether she could meet Ward’s eyes once she got caught. Vibrant blue eyes, the color of an Alaskan lake, lightly iced over and ready to thaw.
“Of course.” He nodded, waving her through the door. “After you.” When she hesitated, he said, “Really, after you.”
Only then did she realize she’d been standing, rooted to the spot, looking into his gaze like a starstruck, sex-starved idiot.
She forced a vampish smile onto her face. “I promise, I’m not going to work my wiles on your assistant to get through the door.”
“Again.”
She blinked. “What?”
“Get through my door...again.” His smile matched hers, making her realize he’d seen right through her.
Was he as affected by a simple grin as she was? Because if so, then they were both in trouble. Her body was tingling from head to toe. There’d been a combustible chemistry between them from the moment they’d met. And the timing couldn’t be worse, given the mess with her family.
The mess she still had to settle.
She couldn’t afford the distraction of this man. Too bad his job put him firmly in the way of her goal of finding closure for her past. She needed to know who was responsible for blowing apart her family. For ending her mother’s life.
And until she knew whom she could trust, she had to maintain a laser focus. Keeping him off-balance would help. “Who was the child in the picture?”
She nodded toward the metal frame he’d placed facedown on the desk. The Ward Benally in that picture seemed so different from the one before her. Against the surreal backdrop of a snowcapped-mountain range, he and the young child—maybe a four-year-old—leaned forward in a wooden sled. Snow wicked off in a wave to the side of the sled. Ward’s blue eyes, somehow visible, were soft. Filled with joy. His protective arm was around the child, who was dressed in a puffy pink jacket and snow pants. Laughter was present on her little face.
“That’s my stepdaughter.” His smile faded, his face somber.
Mission accomplished in knocking him off-balance. So why did she feel so bad? “But you’re not married.”
“Not any longer.” Tight voice. Tight response.
Off-balance indeed. A moment of guilt passed through her. The glimmer of pain in his words stung.
That shouldn’t have mattered to her, but given their undeniable chemistry, it did. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded toward the door again, not budging from his position. He obviously wanted to ensure she walked out first. “I need to get to work. As soon as I escort you from the building, I can do that.”
She really should make tracks and get out with whatever info she’d gained. She’s was risking too much by staying here, drawn in by Ward Benally’s allure.
Striding through the door, she tried to ignore the sensation of his eyes on her. One breath at a time. She forced her heart rate to slow in time with her steps. She kept her gaze forward, off the window view of Alaska—icy water, snow and mountains. All so familiar. She wondered how the memories of this place had become dulled during her years away in the isolated little Canadian village, where her “adoptive” parents lived, a close-knit community that had become her world after the plane crash.
“Benally,” a deep voice rumbled down the corridor.
Her father’s voice.
Brea froze.
Ice crackled through her veins at this next surprise. Nothing she’d planned from this data-gathering mission had gone as expected. But this next hiccup truly rattled her to the core.
She should have thought of the possibility of seeing her father when she came here. Should have been prepared. She was working on talking with her family, trying not to close doors until she figured out whom she could trust. But she usually had more time to prepare herself.
Was that Ward’s hand on her back?
Her brain scrambled with too much to process at once. Her vision cleared, and she saw the conference room was half full—her father, his new wife and a slew of Mikkelson and Steele relatives, along with investor Birch Montoya and environmental scientist Royce Miller, husband to Brea’s twin sister, Naomi.
Brea stumbled. Air sucked from her lungs again.
Even though she’d come back to Alaska last fall—albeit in disguise—it was still like a sucker punch coming face-to-face with Naomi. Seeing all her siblings was tough. But Naomi? They’d shared more than similar looks. They’d shared a bond.
Or so she’d thought.
When Brea had come to this office before, she’d half expected Naomi to recognize her even while she posed as Milla Jones. She’d chosen the fake identity to infiltrate the company and find out what had happened all those years ago. But when her initial snooping had been uncovered, things had gotten complicated. She’d just wanted to know who she could trust, to get answers about the past and gain vengeance for her mother.
And yes, maybe she’d had the tiniest hope that she could have her family back.
But Naomi hadn’t even recognized her. There hadn’t been a single spark of recognition. Even knowing it was irrational to expect Naomi to know her—even in disguise, even after all this time—that total loss of connection had still hurt.
Her father stepped from the doorway, into the corridor, the others still hanging back in the conference room, behind the glass window. “Good afternoon, Brea,” her lumbering father said in that voice that sounded like he’d gargled rocks over the years. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Somehow he managed to look exactly like she remembered him from before the plane crash. Broad-chested. His eyes the unflinching blue of the Atlantic Ocean. Hair still dark and thick, although flecked with gray these days. As he looked at her now, she saw hope cross his angular jaw as his mouth relaxed into a small, nearly imperceptible smile.
That sure seemed to be the comment of the day. “I came by to speak with Ward.”
Her father’s eyebrows met, creasing his forehead. “What about?”
Her heart hammered again as she looked at Ward with panic. Was he going to rat her out? She wouldn’t blame him. And she hated how easily she’d just lied. And lied poorly, for that matter. Could her inability to think quickly have had something to do with the distracting touch of Ward’s hand on her back?
Just as she opened her mouth to spin out a better version of her fib, a breathless woman rushed up the hallway, toward them, pushing a stroller. It took Brea a moment to place her as Isabeau Mikkelson, wife of Trystan, mother of little Everett, and a media consultant.
The frazzled redhead thrust a binder toward Jack. “Here are the printouts of the guest list for the engagement party for Delaney and Birch, so you and Jeannie can work with them on the seating chart.” She rushed to add, “And I locked down the vintage roulette wheel for the casino theme.”
Smoothing her shoulder-length hair, Isabeau smiled gently. A calming soul. One of the people Brea instinctively felt to be genuine. Besides, Isabeau wasn’t connected to the Mikkelsons by blood. And Brea had to admit, that lack of connection made Isabeau intriguing as a potential information source. There was that old saying that those on the margin
s could see the center best. And damn, did Brea need a better vantage point.
Jack nodded. “Seating chart. Casino theme. Got it.”
His words blurred together as Brea studied her family through the hall window. They were scattered around the conference room, some speaking in pairs, others clustered behind Jack.
Brea’s gaze skirted to her baby sister, Delaney, a slender woman with dark wavy hair, standing quietly. Dressed in a simple red sweater dress and knee-high cognac-colored boots, Delaney visibly brightened as she leaned forward to look at the paper Isabeau handed to Jack Steele.
Brea swallowed hard. Memories of playing dress up with her sisters, decades ago, scrolled through her mind. Days of making bridal veils from towels with her sisters. They’d dreamed of planning those real family events together.
Her life was such a jumble.
Brea remembered her family, her childhood. But in the years that had passed since the crash, it felt like those memories had become unreliable. Thanks to the lies and betrayal of her “adoptive” parents, she questioned what was real...and what she wanted to believe.
There was so little she knew for certain. Such as how her mother had a special seal hunting knife called an ulu that she’d used to cut their pizza. Her mother’s impossibly strong and reassuring “I love you” as the plane had plummeted.
Everything else? Up for debate and analysis.
The caress of Ward’s hand on the small of her back pulled Brea back to the present. She looked at him, startled, curious.
His smile gave her only a moment’s warning before he announced, “I guess this is as good a time as any to let them know our little secret.”
Panic sent her heart racing. Had he seen her take off the gloves after all? Maybe there were cameras in his office?
“Um, let’s talk about this.”
“You’re such a tenderhearted woman.” His hand slid up her spine in a body-melting stroke that ended with his arm around her shoulders. His expression showed a warmth she’d never seen from him before. “It’s sweet of you to worry what your family will think. I know they’ve only just gotten you back, but I think they’ll understand the need to share you.”
“Share me?” She was struggling for air.
Talk about being knocked off-balance. Her efforts to pull one over on her family had been amateur compared to this move. And she was too damned speechless to come up with a rebuttal as he tucked her closer to his side.
“Yes. Share you. With your boyfriend.” Ward’s grin dug dimples in his wind-weathered face before he announced, “Brea and I are dating.”
Two
Ward was a man of action and swift decisions.
And he saw that this was the perfect opportunity to keep Brea in his sights—as his “girlfriend.” Now he just needed to get Brea away from her family ASAP to convince her that he was right before she denied they were dating and blew up the whole charade.
“I’ll be right back, after I see Brea to her car so she’s not late for her dental appointment.” Ward filled the stunned silence so he could direct the conversation. “Go ahead and get started without me. I’ll catch up.”
With a quick nod, he hustled her toward the elevator, as fast as possible, before the stunned Steeles and Mikkelsons could start asking questions. As he walked quickly down the corridor, thank heaven, she stayed at his side, for whatever reason. Shock? Curiosity? Or... Who knew what went on inside that woman’s mind.
The minute the elevator door closed them inside, Brea stomped her foot, leveling him with eyes as dark as fire-hot coals. “Have you lost your mind? What the hell was that all about back there?”
He tapped the stop button, halting the elevator midfloor. “That was about keeping you close to my side. The snooping has to stop. At least while you’re pretending to be my girlfriend, I can watch you.”
Her eyes widened in shock. “You can’t be serious. You actually expect me to pretend to be your girlfriend so you can keep tabs on me? And you think people will believe that we’ve been secretly dating?” She shook her head quickly, restlessly turning away, then back to him again. “You have got to be kidding.”
“I’m dead serious.” That much was true. His job was everything to him. He would not be made a laughingstock by a snoop who should just talk to her family...unless she had some darker motive. In which case, she should be kept under close scrutiny. He would be the one to take on that task because he was in charge. And yes, because of attraction crackling between them like sparks showing from a blazing fire. “I’m single. There are events I need to attend with a plus-one. This also saves me time.”
“That’s an absurd excuse.” Her voice went higher with frustration. “Be real. What could you have to gain from this charade? If you’re that worried about little ole me, why not just install some security cameras?”
“You’re right. I could up the security system to watch every inch of any space we control on the off chance I catch you getting up to something.” He paused, and then pointed out logically, “And then, if I were successful, your dad and your siblings would forever see me as the person who revealed their princess to be an evil queen. This way, I can be more proactive.”
“Princess? Evil queen? You’re weird.” Sighing, she furrowed her brow. “How is that different from catching me at something while I’m your pretend girlfriend?”
“I’m not weird. Just logical. If I’m watching you, you won’t have a chance to be in that position. Besides, you’ll get to stick close to me. And since you seem to be there every time I turn around, I have reason to believe that must hold some kind of appeal for you, too.” He tugged her ponytail, testing the silky texture between his fingers, imagining it spread out over the pillow next to him. “And yes, there’s more in it for me than just a plus-one for events. As a bonus, I gain acceptance by the board of directors. Being with you makes me a de facto member of the family.”
Her eyebrows shot up in horror. “We are not getting married just to lock down your new job in the company.”
“Of course not. I’m not that Machiavellian.” He smoothed her silky ponytail back along her shoulder, her pupils widening with awareness at his touch. “But by the time that would be an issue, you and I can break up.”
“I’m not dating you for that long.” Then she rushed to add, “I’m not dating you at all. Start the elevator.”
Ah, she’d mentioned dating. He was making progress. And that filled him with a surge of success. And desire. “We would only go out for a month, until the vote at the next general board meeting for all the shareholders.”
She hesitated, worrying her bottom lip. “Then we just...what? We break up?”
He pulled his eyes off her moist lips.
“That’s how it works, yes. You can even dump me.” He winked, taking heart in her light chuckle. “And by all means, make it public and humiliating, in front of your entire family and all my friends—”
“You have friends?” Her deadpan words didn’t match the hint of amusement in her eyes.
“I do.” He nodded, leaning in such a way that he blocked the elevator buttons. Before long, someone would start it again, but he intended to make the most of their time alone for now. “I have to pay them to be my friends. But they stay loyal as long as I deliver the roll of quarters each week.” Which wasn’t totally true. He didn’t have many friends, not even paid ones. He wasn’t the sort to hang out with buddies. He was too busy working until midnight.
She scrunched her nose. “You really are weird.”
“Maybe.” He was certainly a workaholic. Although, so was most of her family. It was one of the reasons he now held this CEO position. “But the offer for you to dump me in a billboard fashion stands.”
“How generous of you. Maybe I’ll get one of my siblings to fly a seaplane with a banner.” She lifted her chin, jaw jutting with signature Steele confidence that no
amount of years away could erase.
“Trust me, my ego can take it.”
She studied him for a moment, her exotic eyes narrowing. “Then what’s in it for me?”
“Aside from getting to dump me? Isn’t that entertainment and payment enough?” He thumped himself on the chest in faux shock.
She rolled her eyes. “While that is an enticing proposition, I’m going to need a little more before I sign on to this plan.”
He straightened, ditching the humor and closing the deal. “You’ll keep me from ratting you out about being in my office. And you’ll get more access to your family with me as an excuse for you to be in and out of this office.”
“I’m listening.” She waved him on, leaning a slim shoulder against the mirrored elevator wall. “Continue...”
Her sweater pulled snug across her breasts as she folded her arms. His gaze followed the curve of her hip, which was cocked to one side. She drew him in, no doubt.
“I can be a buffer between you and your family.” Which would give him the chance to gauge her motivations. No way was he going to let her tank this company. He’d always been a driven individual at work. But even more so now. His career was all he had left, and he refused to allow any threat to his professional reputation. “If you’re feeling stressed or uncomfortable, cue me and we can leave.”
“Or I could just walk out if they upset me.”
He liked the confidence in her voice. But he also knew the situation with her family was far more complicated than that. “You could. But having a buffer so you could make a speedy, nonconfrontational exit would be easier.”
“How so?” She looked skeptical.
“We come up with a safe word. If you say it in casual conversation, that lets me know you want to leave. I’ll find an out so you don’t have to make awkward excuses on the spot.”
“Safe word?” Her eyebrows shot upward.
“Bear with me,” he said. “I had this uncle who was a preacher. His wife used to get stuck at long functions and meals. So she came up with a conversational gimmick that let her husband know she needed to leave. Immediately.”
The Secret Twin Page 2
