The Billionaire Renegade

All this cowboy wants is a temporary affair.

He’s playing with fire.

Billionaire rancher Conrad Steele wants Felicity Hunt in his bed—no strings attached. He’s been left at the altar before and won’t make the same mistake twice. But the savvy divorcée keeps her body and heart on lockdown, even when planning her hospital’s charity event means spending long, intimate hours with the tempting tycoon. Until a night of passion changes everything...

USA TODAY bestselling author CATHERINE MANN has won numerous awards for her novels, including both a prestigious RITA® Award and an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award. After years of moving around the country bringing up four children, Catherine has settled in her home state of South Carolina, where she’s active in animal rescue. For more information, visit her website, catherinemann.com.

Also by Catherine Mann

The Baby Claim

The Double Deal

The Love Child

The Twin Birthright

The Second Chance

The Rancher’s Seduction

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Billionaire Renegade

Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09200-5

THE BILLIONAIRE RENEGADE

© 2018 Catherine Mann

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Barbara Collins Rosenberg—

an amazing agent and a dear friend.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

About the Publisher

One

He was back.

Felicity Hunt didn’t need to see more than the buff-colored Stetson resting on his knee to know Conrad Steele hadn’t heeded her request that they stop seeing each other. The man threatened the balance she’d worked so hard to create in regaining her professional life after her divorce.

But the Alaskan oil magnate had a reputation for determination. The smooth-talking kind that persisted until he won.

Well, he wouldn’t win her.

Although he was sure pulling out all the stops to gain her attention today in the hospital’s enclosed memory garden.

Conrad was currently leading story time, pint-size patients gathered around him in a heart-tugging cluster.

On her way back from supervising a critically ill three-year-old who’d just entered the foster system, Felicity steeled her resolve to keep this man at arm’s length. Easier said than done. As a social worker at Anchorage General Hospital, she had a soft spot for her young clients.

Children sat in wheelchairs and on floor mats, wide-eyed with rapt attention focused on the cowboy spinning a tale about a magical horse. His deep voice rumbled over the words, the book all but dwarfed by his large hands. He kept it open for his audience to see, the current page containing a watercolor image of the horse with a blanket and saddle over its back.

A little girl raised her hand with a question. “What’s hanging off the saddle?”

“Those are stirrups, for the rider’s feet,” Conrad answered, tapping his boots on the floor. He then expanded the explanation with ease, his knowledge of all things equine shining through.

His gaze rose from the children, colliding with Felicity’s as she leaned against a pillar. The air crackled between them with a connection she should have been used to by now, but the potency still caught her unaware. Just a look not more than three heartbeats long left her shaken long after he returned his attention to the book.

God, he was handsome in a rugged, movie star way with a strong jaw and cheekbones. His dark hair was trimmed neatly, hints of silver at his temples tempting her fingers to stroke. And those eyes, pale blue like the hottest of flames.

He had broad shoulders that filled out his crisp white shirt just so, his suit coat draped over the back of the rolling chair. His red silk tie drew her attention to the strong column of his neck.

This was a man others leaned on.

She forced even breaths in and out, willing her heart rate to slow. The scent of plants and flowers mingled with the antiseptic smell of the highly sterilized space.

Fidgeting with the badge on her silver lanyard, Felicity knew she should walk right out of the memory garden, and she would, before he finished the story.

Meanwhile, she couldn’t stop thoughts of how she’d met Conrad, of how he’d pursued her with such flattering intensity. Her work as a county social worker had brought her to this hospital often, and his nephew had been dating a friend of Felicity’s who volunteered in the NICU. Felicity had finally caved and dated Conrad briefly, against her better judgment, but she’d broken things off just before Christmas and taking on a new job.

It was a dream come true being hired on as a hospital social worker for underage patients. The recent change offered all the more reason she needed to stay focused on her career, and not on romance. Her broken marriage had left her full of crushing heartbreak. The grief had taken its toll on her at the office, crippling her concentration. She’d labored long and hard to rebuild her résumé. She refused to endure another setback in her professional—or personal—life.

After Conrad closed the last page of the book, he turned over story time to a volunteer with puppets. Felicity let go of her lanyard, her fingers numb. She’d gripped it so hard the ridges bit into her skin.

She’d waited too long, lost in thoughts of this man. If she moved quickly, she could still make an escape...

But wouldn’t that delay the inevitable?

She couldn’t just walk away today without confronting Conrad about his refusal to give her space. Her heart sped.

Conrad slid on his suit jacket, then scooped up his Stetson and overcoat. He wove his way through the audience, past geraniums spilling over the side of terra-cotta planters, massive urns with trees and a babbling stone fountain. While the puppeteer set up her portable stage, children stretched and wriggled, mats rustling and IV poles clinking. Conrad paused, leaning to answer a question from a young girl with a bandanna covering her bald head, then continued his journey across the indoor garden.

And his eyes were locked on Felicity.

Felicity exhaled hard, her heart double-timing against her will. He didn’t miss a beat in his beeline to her, his long legs eating up the space between them, boots thudding on the tile floor.

“Hello,” he said simply, his head dipping low enough his breath caressed her cheek. “It’s good to see you.”

She bit her lip and struggled to keep her gaze off his mouth and on his eyes, memories of their brief time together bombarding her. “We should step out. I wouldn’t want to disrupt the performance.”

Taped flute music started as the puppeteer slid into place behind the stage. The children stilled for the rest of the entertainment.

Conrad opened the door leading out of the memory garden and into the busy hallway, winter coat draped over his arm. Staff in scrubs mixed with visitors in street clothes, and the flow of human traffic streamed both ways, the opposing currents somehow weaving around each other fluidly. The wide corridor sported a wall of windows showcasing a snowplow making its way through the lot beside a towering parking garage.

Conrad clasped her elbow and guided her to a nook lined with vending machines. The simple touch set her body on fire. His equally hot gaze made her feel like a siren in spite of her businesslike pin-striped skirt and ruffled white blouse.

He planted a hand on the wall, his shoulders blocking out the corridor, making a public space suddenly intimate. “Congratulations on your new job.”

So he did know, probably from her friend Tally Benson, who was dating Marshall Steele—Conrad’s nephew. Felicity had the confirmation. His time here wasn’t coincidental. He was looking for her.

Frustration—and an unwanted tingle of pleasure—filled her. “Tally told you?”

“Marshall did,” Conrad acknowledged. “I didn’t know you were looking to make a change at work.”

She struggled to focus on his words, difficult to do with the spicy scent of him filling her every breath.

“I wasn’t unhappy at my other position, but this is a dream job of mine.” All the more reason she needed to keep her focus narrowed.

“They’re lucky to have you.” His hand was close enough to stroke her hair, but he didn’t move.

The phantom touch, the promise, was just as potent.

Enough polite chitchat. “Why are you here? I’m not buying this sudden interest of yours for story time with sick children.”

“You didn’t want our date from the bachelor auction last month, so I’m fulfilling the time purchased here.”

She’d been irate when he’d paid the money in her name for his time at the charity bachelor auction. She didn’t like being manipulated. Another reason she was irritated to see him here today, despite the way his nearness made her temperature spike.

Still, she couldn’t deny he was doing a good thing for the patients, many of them here long term in the pediatric oncology ward. “That’s very altruistic of you. What made you think of reading books instead of something like volunteering in the gift shop?”

“I like kids, even though I don’t have any of my own. I’ve always been a proud and involved uncle. And my family’s charity foundation is initiating a number of projects here at Anchorage General.”

Could that be true and she just hadn’t heard about it yet? Or was he making another excuse to pursue her because she’d had the nerve to say no to a Steele?

“What kinds of projects?”

“We’re starting with a program donating books to patients.” He answered without hesitation.

She believed him. About that much at least. “That’s a wonderful thing to do, but I need to make sure you know, my interest is not for sale.”

His easy smile faded. “Neither is my honor. My family has always supported this hospital out of gratitude for their top-notch care. My nieces and nephews were born here. My niece Naomi underwent cancer treatment here—and then went on to deliver her twins here. The book donation is a part of the new pilot program.”

“New pilot program?” she couldn’t resist asking, the professional in her intrigued. So much for playing it as cool and formidable as the Alaskan tundra.

“The Steele and Mikkelson families’ new charity foundation is looking for more ways to make a difference at the hospital. One of those ways is to provide children with new books, volumes they can keep so there’s no risk of germ cross-contamination with shared materials.”

How could she find fault with that plan? She couldn’t. “That’s really thoughtful. I’m sure the children and parents will be very grateful.”

Finances could become strained with long-term hospitalizations, so much so that even buying books was a luxury.

“Today’s package for each child included a copy of the story they just heard.” A half smile tugged on his mouth, those signature Steele eyes full of promise.

It had been a riveting tale, no question, especially when read by a larger-than-life cowboy. “You said ways—plural—of helping here. What else is the foundation doing?”

She was curious, yes. But she also needed to know where to avoid him so she didn’t keep testing her resolve where he was concerned.

“The vote was taken yesterday, so technically, it’s okay for me to share now even though the press release won’t go out until tomorrow.” His smile widened and her stringent resolve waned.

“Okay, I’ll admit it. You’ve got my interest—on a professional basis only.”

His brows shot up almost imperceptibly. “Of course.” His smile was confident—and sexy. “We’re making a donation to the oncology ward in honor of my niece. They’ll be renaming it, to be made official at a dinner for the hospital board of directors and the charity foundation board.”

His words sunk in. This wasn’t a simple book drop-off or some quickly concocted plan to bump into her in passing. He and his family’s charitable foundation had a genuine, vested interest in being a part of this hospital’s financial landscape.

Realization filled her with the inescapable truth—and she couldn’t deny a shiver of excitement. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Stetson in hand, Conrad watched Felicity walk away in a huff down the hospital corridor.

He was definitely getting under her skin, and that was a good thing. Damn straight, he wasn’t going anywhere. He had wanted her since the first time he’d seen her. He’d worked to win her over since then, not an easy task as she was still stinging from her divorce. But then, he wasn’t one to shy away from a battle.

Letting his gaze linger on her, he stepped away from the vending machines and back into the flow of foot traffic in the wide corridor, winter coat over his arm. Felicity’s sleek brown hair was pulled back into a neat French twist, midday sunlight through the window reflecting off honey-colored streaks.

Her pin-striped skirt was both professional yet also appealing in an understated way as it hugged her curves, sweeping down to touch the top of her knee-length leather boots. The ruffles on her blouse drew his eyes to her neck and wrists. Not that it took much to bring his attention to her.

He was selective, dating professional women who weren’t interested in a walk down the aisle. He’d had a brief marriage and a near miss, having been left at the altar by his fiancée. His attempts at happily-ever-after had left him gun-shy.

Then when his older brother had lost his wife and child in a plane crash, seeing his brother’s unrelenting grief had cemented Conrad’s resolution to stay single. He’d devoted himself to helping bring up his nieces and nephews. He loved kids. It hadn’t been a hardship to lend a hand to his overburdened big brother, Jack. Conrad was fifteen years younger and had energy and time to spare. He couldn’t help wondering, though, if the fact that his brother’s kids were grown now attributed to some restlessness on Conrad’s part.

His gaze zoned back in on Felicity as she stepped into an elevator. She certainly had his attention and he imagined she would have at any time in his life. He’d hoped things would go a little more smoothly today, but he also enjoyed a good challenge.

He started toward the elevators just as the double set of electric doors opened, a blast of cold air gusting inside. A familiar face stopped him short. Marshall. His nephew. The middle child in Jack Steele’s brood, Marshall was a bit of a recluse, preferring to oversee the original homestead ranch. He’d never voiced an interest in the day-to-day operations of the family’s oil business.

They’d all had to step up, though, when Jack Steele had become engaged to the widowed matriarch of their corporate rival, the Mikkelson family. Shortly after that, Jack had suffered a fall from a horse that could have killed him, but didn’t. Still, it had left him with a recovery from spinal surgery that had lasted months.

Even though Jack had married Jeannie Mikkelson, the family had still been in turmoil at a critical juncture in the merger into the combined companies that became Alaska Oil Barons Inc., with stock prices fluctuating as a result. They needed to provide a unified, stable front. Hopefully the charity foundation—with both the Steeles and Mikkelsons at the helm—would help blend the families while also reassuring investors.

Marshall closed the last few feet between them, shaking snow off the brim of his hat. “What are you doing here? Is something wrong?”

“Everything’s fine.” They were all still a little jumpy after Jack’s accident, and then Shana Mikkelson’s aneurysm. A larger family meant more cause for concern as well as happiness. “I was delivering the books to the children’s ward, am just finishing up reading one.”

“Seriously? I suspect a different agenda here.” Marshall’s brown eyes narrowed, the quiet perception in the depths so like the gaze of Marshall’s mother, who’d died in a plane crash. “Felicity’s working here full-time now, isn’t she?”

“I recall reading to you when you were a kid,” Conrad dodged neatly.

“As I recall, you were doing it then for extra credit for your high school English class.”

He waved dismissively. “Two birds with one stone. I’m a multitasker.”

“Ah, like today.” Marshall held up a hand. “No worries if you don’t want to talk about Felicity. I’m here to pick up Tally and take her to lunch. Are you still coming by tomorrow with Nanuq and Shila?”

He’d been housing a couple of horses for Marshall since one of his two barns had burned and he needed some flex space for his animals while the rebuilding was under way. The aesthetics weren’t complete, but the stalls were secure and warm. Nanuq and Shila, which meant white bear and flame, were ready for transport.

“Absolutely. See you then.”

In fact, he could use a ride to work out the tension he would no doubt feel after the impending confrontation with Felicity. Before the day was out, she would learn just how closely they would be working together.

Striding down the hospital corridor toward her office, Felicity wished it was as easy to haul her thoughts away from the first-floor lobby and one big sexy distraction in a Stetson.

But then her nerves had been a mess since she’d bumped into Conrad. She needed to get herself together before the meeting with her new boss. Felicity wove by a nurse with a vitals cart and a cluster of visitors lost in their conversation.

Her new supervisor had been cryptic about the reason for the meeting other than to say it was about a way for Felicity to make a mark in her job. Her interest was piqued. She couldn’t get there fast enough. Looking down to pull her notes from her portfolio bag, she nearly slammed into someone—

Tally Benson, waving at her.

“Hello there,” her friend exclaimed in surprise. “I’m just finishing up volunteering. I thought I wasn’t going to see you today. How’s the new job?”

“I’m excited about the opportunity.” The words sounded hollow in Felicity’s mouth, making her wonder why she bothered faking emotions with her friends. Back in high school, she’d briefly tried out for a school production of King Lear because her foster mom loved Shakespeare. During the course of her tryouts, Felicity had realized masking her feelings required a lot more work than actors onstage and on-screen made it out to be.

Strangely, during her work, she’d never had to fake an emotion she didn’t feel. Her deep well of empathy supplied her strength as she moved through the difficult spaces of social work.

Today, she felt like that high schooler reading lines. The words didn’t match her body’s articulation of apprehension, intrigue.

“Then why are you frowning?” Tally scrunched her nose.

Felicity adjusted her lanyard, unable to resist asking, “Did you know that Conrad is reading to the kids in pediatrics?”

She opted to dodge the question that had too much of a matchmaking vibe. “I’ve heard the family’s charitable foundation has big plans for the hospital.”

And that level of donation couldn’t be a simple romantic ploy. Renaming a wing involved a significant amount of money. She felt small for having accused him of reading to the kids for show.

Felicity forced a smile. “The hospital is lucky to have such a generous benefactor.”

“To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by the family. There are so many of them.” And the redhead would certainly know that since not too long ago she’d been hired to help Marshall around the house while he recovered from a broken arm. Now they were a couple. “But the charity foundation has been a rewarding way to get to know them.”

When the Steele patriarch had married his rival’s widow, the business world had been full of reports about the merger of their two companies and there had been fluctuations in the market with concerns about who would take the helm. There still hadn’t been an official announcement of who would be the CEO for the newly formed Alaska Oil Barons Inc., but she’d heard rumblings they were closing in on a choice.

“Oh,” Felicity remembered, reaching into her portfolio bag, “I have your letter of recommendation ready.” She had convinced Tally to apply for a scholarship to pursue a degree in social work. The woman was a natural.

Tally’s smile beamed, her eyes watering. “Thank you.” She took the envelope, sliding it carefully into her purse. “Your support and encouragement means the world to me. I’m afraid to get my hopes up that I’ll get in, much less receive the scholarship.”

Hope was a scary thing, no question. Felicity remembered too well how difficult it had been to trust in a positive future after her divorce. “I’m rooting for you. Let me know the minute you hear.”

“I will,” Tally promised, giving her a quick hug. “I should let you go. Let’s do lunch soon and catch up. My treat.”

“Sounds great. Let’s keep in touch...” Felicity backed away with a smile and a wave before spinning toward her new office. She lifted her key card and swiped her way into the space—all hers with a window of her own. She could see the snowy mountains and make the most of what little daylight there was during an Alaska winter. She still had boxes stacked in the corner, but had started unpacking the most important items first. Starting with a bulletin board of thank-you notes from parents and newly adopted clients, along with a few childishly drawn pictures she’d framed. These meant more to her than any accolades, seeing how her work made life better for children who were helpless.