Back from the dead, this heiress wants answers...

But will she find love?

When CEO Ward Benally finds a beautiful brunette in his office, he assumes she’s a corporate spy. But Brea Steele is the long-lost daughter of the company’s founder, desperate to uncover the truth about her mother’s death. Ward will help, and keep her close—as his pretend love interest. Yet as their fake romance turns real, will the truth shatter their fragile alliance?

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

The Billionaire Renegade

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

The Secret Twin

Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09208-1

THE SECRET TWIN

© 2019 Catherine Mann

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 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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Version: 2020-03-02

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To Vickie Ostrander Gerlach,

a dear friend and amazing beta reader!

Thank you for cheering me on during

the Alaskan Oil Barons journey.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Epilogue

About the Publisher

One

Breanna Steele didn’t have much time to search the CEO’s office at Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. If she got caught, the consequences could be catastrophic.

But she was out of options.

Brea needed answers and she didn’t know who to trust. What if she chose wrong?

There were things far worse than prison.

She’d made a quick search of paperwork, and now she dropped into the sleekly modern leather chair behind the massive desk. She tried not to think about the times she’d visited this space as a child, when the office had been her father’s. Saturday mornings coming here with her dad and her twin sister after breakfast at Kit’s Kodiak Café. Playing hide-and-seek under the huge desk, or watching cartoons on the big screen at the other end of the office space, sharing a blanket while they fell asleep on the leather sofa.

Now the space belonged to another man, someone outside of the family. The desk and the corner walls of windows overlooking the frozen bay and distant mountains were the same as she remembered. But the rest of the space was now filled with new furniture—sleeker, minimalist wood and leather pieces. Her father’s office had been packed with family photos. Ward Benally had only one picture on his desk. Him with a little girl, elementary-school-aged, sledding.

She knew he wasn’t married, but clearly this child meant something to him. And that made him more personable. More than just an arrogant leader of a company that now belonged just as much to her rivals as to her family. Her father’s oil empire had merged with the Mikkelsons’ after his recent marriage.

Of course, Brea hadn’t really been a part of any of that, since they had believed she’d died as a young teen.

Brea’s conscience pinched. But her sense of survival dictated that she continue looking for the damning information.

She pulled a flash drive from her purse and plugged it into the computer. She’d lived off-the-grid for years, and while some thought that meant no computers, no communication with the outside world, she’d actually learned to use the internet without leaving a trail, building on knowledge she’d learned from her dad.

Learning to hack and code were skills stitched and threaded through much of her young life, before the airplane crash that had taken her from her family. She had shared that with her father. Once her mind was made up, Brea could accomplish anything. Dogged, unrelenting persistence. Also like Jack Steele. Her daddy.

Her chest went tight.

She blinked back tears and clicked through the keys, her fingers slick from the thin latex gloves she wore to keep her prints out of the office. Paranoid? Maybe. Maybe not. Bottom line, she couldn’t be too careful.

Someone connected to this company had played a role in the airplane crash that had killed her mother. The crash that had changed Brea’s life forever, in ways she still struggled to understand.

She had to have answers before she could put the past behind her, before she could feel safe here. Yes, she wanted to believe her relatives had nothing to do with such horrible treachery. Yet everything she’d learned pointed to someone in the Mikkelson family having been a part of the crash.

And now her father was married to the Mikkelson matriarch, merging their rival oil companies into Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. How surreal after their years of bitter competition and even outright enmity.

Almost too surreal. Like there might be a setup.

Hopefully she could find a clue here. If she didn’t? Well, she didn’t plan on giving up. She needed closure. But she also needed safety.

She wanted to reunite with her siblings, but she couldn’t be sure where their loyalties lay. The risk of showing her hand was too high. She would be persistent. And patient.

Glancing at her watch, she checked the time. Earlier, she’d ferreted information out of the assistant that Ward would be in a conference call for most of the afternoon. But she didn’t want to press that time to the limit.

A file name caught her attention, one simply titled with the date of the plane crash. She stifled a shiver at memories of the aircraft’s plummet from the sky. The terror. Her mother’s tight grip on her hand.

The air sucked from her lungs now. The same as it had then. A pull back to that day. The fear was a blood rush dragging her down. She could hear the whine of dying engines and the rustle of rapidly approaching earth.

Brea relived this moment more often than she cared to admit. Her body time traveling to the day that drew a line in the sand of her life. An eternal before and after.

A distraction Brea couldn’t afford right now.

She clicked to copy the file to her flash drive, the urge to read it now overwhelming. Her heart raced, her speeding pulse hammering in her ears.

“What are you doing in my office?”

Brea jolted upright, the masculine voice making her heart stop.

Not only had she been discovered in the act of spying. But she’d been caught by the man himself. Ward Bennally. The new CEO of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. A sexy dark-haired man wearing an Armani suit, cowboy boots...

And a heavy scowl.

* * *

Ward Benally had expected the first months as CEO of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc., would be challenging. He welcomed that. He lived and breathed his job.

It was his whole life.

It was all he had left.

He’d just finished a brutal board meeting that had almost broken out into a fistfight over disagreements about modifications to the oil pipeline. He’d come to his office to get documents he hoped would satisfy both sides. He’d also looked forward to a few moments alone to quiet his frustration.

Instead he found his office invaded by the last person he would trust alone with sensitive company data.

Brea Steele, the long-lost daughter of Jack Steele. The same daughter who’d posed as an employee of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc., not that long ago, to gain access to heaven only knew what kind of encrypted information. She could not be trusted. That should be obvious to everyone. But Jack was so happy to have his presumed-dead daughter back, they all had to put up with her, even though, by all rights, she should be under prosecution.

Ward eyed her with suspicion as she kept her hands out of sight, her brown eyes guarded as she sat at his desk.

“Well?” he repeated. “What are you doing in my office?”

Slowly, she rose from the buttercream leather chair, her hands now tucked in the back pockets of her black jeans. Jeans that clung to her long legs like a second skin. “I was waiting for you.”

Her voice was cool and composed. Her sleek ponytail swished as she made her way around the desk, the silky glide of dark hair drawing his gaze like a hypnotic pendulum.

She was a smoke-and-mirrors show.

And his body reacted to her every time, no matter how often his brain reminded him she was trouble. “Looks to me like you were snooping around.”

“I’m nosy.” She shrugged, watching him through long dark eyelashes. “What can I say?”

“You call it nosy?” He strode forward, risking coming close enough to catch a whiff of...mint. “I call it breaking and entering.”

“Your assistant let me in,” she said neatly.

That gave him pause. He made a mental note to check her story. Even if it was true, she still should have been seated on the sofa or one of the guest chairs. “Did my assistant give you permission to use my computer?”

Her shrug called attention to her gentle curves. He snapped his attention back to the facts he knew about her. The woman before him had lied. Pretended to be someone else. Her actions were downright criminal. Brea could not be trusted. No matter how drop-dead sexy she looked in a turtleneck sweater.

“I just chose the most comfortable place to wait.” She picked up the silver picture frame from his desk, no doubt to distract him. “Who’s the kid? Cute little girl.”

“Put that back.” His voice was low, brooking no argument. The way he should have spoken to her about sitting at his desk. When she didn’t put the frame down, he took it from her hands.

Ward had lost everything when his ex-wife left him, taking his stepdaughter with her. Since he wasn’t little Paisley’s biological father, he’d lost all rights to her after the divorce from Melanie. He’d hoped his ex would be open to letting them visit—or at least talk—but that hadn’t been the case. His former wife just wanted to move on with her new life with her new husband.

Ward had been, for all intents and purposes, Paisley’s dad since he’d started dating Melanie, when her daughter was eight months old. He and Melanie had married a year later. The marriage had lasted for six more years...longer than it would have if there hadn’t been a child involved.

Ward wasn’t sure he ever would have given up, for Paisley’s sake. But Melanie had cheated, filed for divorce and was married to a guy twenty-five years her senior, wealthy, retired and ready to shower her with his money and time.

The metal on the frame dug into Ward’s palm.

“Sorry.” Brea twisted her hands in front of her, nails short, chewed down. “It was right out there for display.”

“Only if you were behind my desk, in my chair.” He placed the frame facedown so the picture of his stepdaughter wouldn’t distract him. He glanced back up to find Brea’s face showing a rare moment of vulnerability.

Calculated or legit? Experience with women told him it was more likely the former.

Her elegant throat moved with a slow swallow. “So, I wanted to see what my father’s office felt like, if it was the same as when I was a child, spinning in the CEO’s chair.”

He stuffed back images of his child doing the same.

And yes, he was surprised Brea had gone for the heartstrings. “That was well-played.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are throwing out that childhood memory to try and garner sympathy...or distract me from where you were sitting.”

He wasn’t letting her get away with invading his space. Heads would roll over her getting in here. For now, though, he couldn’t afford to let her escape until he had answers.

“Okay, I sat in my father’s chair because once I thought I would have a right to be there, that I would lead the company.” She nibbled her bottom lip, slick with gloss. “For a moment I wanted to pretend that life had played out the way I’d hoped.”

Was that another ploy to tug at his emotions and distract him? He wasn’t sure.

Regardless, his eyes were drawn to her mouth.

He tamped down a rush of attraction. “You were still in my chair. At my computer.”

All vulnerability slid from her face. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. “Fine. You’re right. I had no business parking myself there. What do you intend to do about it?”

“I could call security.” Ward’s mouth tightened into a thin line. He met her brown eyes with an unrelenting stare. The kind of stare he’d perfected in long games of poker, after his divorce. The poker table was where he’d regained command and control. Honed his skills for leadership. For impassive demands.

“You could. And when they find there’s nothing on me and it’s just your word against mine?” Her voice was rich and sultry. Those dark brows arched...playfully?

“If they find nothing on you.” He watched her face for signs he’d struck a chord.

Was it his imagination or did her eyes widen with fear? As fast as the look was there, it left.

“And my father? What will he think?”

Jack Steele would do anything to keep her here—in town, at the company, in the family—and they both knew it. Still, Ward bluffed. He was good at it. His fast-track career attested to that. “He’s on the board, but that doesn’t mean he can fire me.”

She ran her fingers along the edge of the desk, the movement slow and intentional as she looked up at him. Fire flashed in those eyes. “He’ll be upset and his opinion still carries a lot of sway with the board and investors.”

It was rare someone called his bluff. Instincts told him she was a worthy adversary.

Which made her all the more attractive.

Damn.

“You’re right. So, why were you in here when you know it could make things tougher for the two of you to reconcile?”

“I guess that proves I wasn’t doing anything wrong.” She toyed with the end of her sleek ponytail.

He chuckled softly, not tricked at all by her little hair twirl. “Are you sure you’re not a lawyer like your twin? Because you sure do have a way with words.”

“Must be genetics.” She flicked her hair back over her shoulder, drawing his attention to the curve of her breasts, outlined by the formfitting black sweater.

He cleared his throat and backed up a step, needing air that didn’t carry a minty scent. “Enough flirting.”

“Flirting?” She smiled slowly. “Were you hoping I was flirting with you?”

Yeah, actually, he was.

And that was dangerous.

But not as dangerous as having her wandering around unchecked, peeking into the everyday operations of Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. It was bad enough she’d gotten away with it once. That was when she was in disguise and no one had an emotional connection to her. Now that the Steele family was emotionally vulnerable over her return after being presumed dead, there was no telling what they would let her do.

He needed to come up with a plan to keep her in his sights, sooner rather than later.

* * *

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 margins 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.”

“What was their word?”

“Words. Anchors aweigh. Which is technically two words, but you get the gist.” Stifling a grin, he imagined his aunt working the safe word into their conversation.

A smile twitched at her lips, mesmerizing him. “That’s a strange phrase.”

“It worked.” He enjoyed seeing her lighter hearted. He didn’t want a real relationship, not after his bitter divorce, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying the banter. And she was smoking hot, to boot.

A part of him was hoping she’d say yes to this for more than just reasons related to her family. He couldn’t deny he was drawn to her. And since he was going to be leading this company, he needed to work through the attraction to her sooner rather than later. Issues left unaddressed became distractions.

And she was already a major distraction.

“Okay then. What do you suggest?”

He thought for a moment, his eyes landing on a framed painting of a home with stone figureheads worked into the architecture. “Gargoyle.”

“Gargoyle?” She burst out laughing.

Tension faded from her expression to be replaced by a smile that knocked the air from his lungs. Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Pulling his attention off her delicate features and back on the task at hand, he took heart in making progress with her.

He’d been in business long enough to know when he’d closed the deal. “Do we have an agreement?”

Her eyes narrowed, but her smile didn’t fade. “Just until the next general board meeting.”

“One month,” he said, confident now that he could win her over to extending their time together if needed. For now he’d made major progress. He was going to be able to watch over her. And if she was up to something, he would find out what.

And he had to admit, spending time with her wouldn’t be a hardship in the least. She drew him with everything from her sexy curves to the sweep of her eyelashes when she cast a glance his way... She was definitely a distraction he needed to work out of his system.

“So, this is just pretend?”

“As long as you say so. And if you’re ever uncomfortable, just remember.” He winked, tapping the start button on the elevator. “Gargoyle.”

* * *

Even five hours later, in her new one-bedroom apartment, Breanna’s brain was still reeling from Ward’s surprise proposition. Sure, he was smart, sexy, and powerful, and while all of that drew her in, she’d been holding strong.

Until she’d been knocked off-balance by his surprise sense of humor.

She should have put up more of a fight. Or extracted additional tradeoffs. But she’d been unsettled by being caught in his office, and then unexpectedly seeing her family, all of which had lowered her defenses.

Checking her emails on her phone now, she leaned against the cool counter space. The granite pressed into her skin as she skimmed her inbox to see if any of her clients needed anything. As a virtual shopper for those who were homebound or in need of help, her hours were a little inconsistent. No new emails since she’d checked an hour ago, which meant she could turn her attention back to the blueberry and raspberry muffins she was baking, needing to do something productive since she hadn’t managed to find anything useful on the flash drive yet.

Frustration filled her. She forced herself to focus on the routine of baking. Grounding herself in the moment. Muted light filtered in through the windows, dappling the dark wood floors and small kitchen area.

She was so grateful to have found this space for her time here in Alaska while she sifted through the rubble of her past. Her uncle’s new wife—Felicity Hunt Steele—had offered this space to sublet. Other Steele relatives had suggested Brea stay with them, but the stress of that was more than Brea could wrap her head around.

A chirp of the kitchen timer in the shape of a plump, plucky hen snapped Brea to attention. She grabbed the gold polka-dot oven mitt from the kitchen counter and peeked into the oven. A wave of warmed-berry scent rode the air, escaping through the open oven door. Such a sweet scent. It made her stomach growl in anticipation. A memory flashed through her mind of berry picking with her siblings and parents, of her dad telling her to avoid the white berries, which were poisonous.

She swallowed hard before the past could swamp her with too many recollections at once. The faster they came, the tougher it was to gauge which ones were real.

A dish towel in hand, she pulled the muffins from the pan, one by one. Since she’d shed her disguise as Milla Jones and returned to Alaska last month, she’d been spending controlled amounts of time with her family. Always with others present, including her uncle’s new wife, who was a social worker.

Felicity had even given Brea a list of therapists. Not necessarily to facilitate a reunion. But to make sure she kept a clear head and didn’t get hurt. Brea had called numbers on that list until she found a counselor she was comfortable with, one who could help her.

She wasn’t sure if she would reconcile with her family or not, but she needed some semblance of peace with her past before she could move on with the future. She’d known that on some level when she’d come to Alaska, posing as Milla Jones.

And how did her attraction to Ward play into that? It was a dangerous distraction. She would have to keep a close guard on her hormones around this man.

A rapid knock caused her door to shudder, startling her. Rattling awake other memories she did her best to keep locked up in the corners of her mind.

Her gut clenched with tension. She’d spent so many years in that minimalist, off-the-grid community, she still wasn’t used to having such a cluttered world. She walked from her kitchen, through the living area to the front door. She peered through the keyhole...and sighed with relief.

Felicity stood with Tally Benson, Felicity’s friend and the woman who was dating Marshall Steele. These two were easy company, since they weren’t a part of her past. Brea clicked through all three locks and opened the door.

“Hello,” Felicity said, holding up a basket full of pampering bath items—salts, a loofa and towels. She had a way of taking care of everyone, perhaps something to do with her chosen career as a social worker. “We’ve brought housewarming gifts.”

Tally carried a wicker laundry hamper. “All natural cleaning supplies, just for you.”

While trust was difficult, these two women were the only ones Brea had met since her return whom she felt at least partially comfortable with. Although, her relationship with Tally was still complicated. Tally’s father had been the mechanic who worked on the airplane before the crash. He’d committed suicide because of his guilt over what had happened. No one yet knew the full extent of the details of the crash, and Tally’s father had taken his secrets to the grave. But at least the man’s name offered a place to start searching for answers.

“Thank you so much,” Brea said, touched by their kindness, and a little overwhelmed too, especially with the berry-picking memory still so fresh in her mind. “Um, please come inside.”

Felicity hesitated. “Are you sure we’re not imposing?”

Brea laughed softly. “Of course I’m sure, not that I would turn you away. It is your condo and you’ve been kind enough to sublease it to me for next to nothing.”

“You’ve done me a favor,” Felicity said without hesitation. “Now I’m able to live with Conrad without this place hanging over my head unused.”

Brea gestured for the duo to come into the apartment, appreciating the down-to-earth nature of both of these women. “The gifts are lovely. You two didn’t have to do this.”

“Conrad sends his thanks as well for the help with my lease,” Felicity called over her shoulder as if they all didn’t already know Conrad Steele could have paid the rent for her apartment multiple times over. Felicity continued to work at the local hospital, where she’d been today, and her hair was still swept back in a French twist. “You can soak out the tension.”

Tally strode past, her red ponytail swishing. Felicity had taken her under her wing not too long ago. Tally had been a housekeeper and now attended college on a scholarship to become a social worker, as well. “If you need any help, just call me.”

Felicity set the basket on the coffee table, cellophane wrapping crinkling. “Although, for the record,” she said with a smile and an elegantly arched eyebrow, “I did leave the place spotless.”

“You did,” Brea agreed, chewing her bottom lip. It seemed so surreal to have the two women move so effortlessly into her life. Making friends was hard for her after all she’d been through. Even though the small Canadian community had been welcoming, her adoptive parents had been guarded with others. She’d been alone, not even sure she could trust her own instincts, for a long time. Being told that her biological family was deeply corrupt. She was safer away from them. “Thank you for coming over. Both of you. Could I offer you something to drink?”

“Well, actually—” Tally paused, unloading the cleaning supplies and stowing them under the kitchen sink “—we did have another reason for coming by.”

Brea’s stomach knotted with nerves. Closing the front door was tough, especially when she wanted to run. “What would that be?”

Felicity pinned her with a knowing gaze. “When did you start dating Ward Benally?”

Brea exhaled with relief that they weren’t going to grill her about her past. Only to have her nerves return with a vengeance over the mention of her fake boyfriend.

Her very sexy, surprisingly charming fake boyfriend.

She really wasn’t ready for fielding questions about Ward.

“The relationship started very recently.” Very. Very. Recently.

“Well, I’m not surprised at all.” Tally pulled out a barstool from behind the counter and sat, her boot heels resting on the lowest rung. “I noticed the chemistry between the two of you at the fund-raiser last month.”

Had it been obvious even then? Brea had felt the sparks, but she’d liked to think she’d hidden her reaction. Apparently not.

Felicity leaned over to look at the baked goods. “Was that when it started, at the fund-raiser?”

Brea hmmed, taking a bite to fill her mouth and avoid talking. Too bad no one was around who could help if she shouted gargoyle. “Anyone want a muffin?”

Tally pulled napkins from a counter holder. “Yes, please. Although I do hear you trying to change the subject. I imagine you’re wondering how much you can trust the two of us.”

True, but not the sort of thing Brea expected to hear voiced aloud.

“Although—” Felicity broke a muffin in half, then pinched off a bite “—that’s an unwinnable proposition, since no matter what we say, there’s really no way to prove you can trust us at this point. Trust takes time.”

How long? Brea wished she knew. “Spoken like a counselor.”

“Because I am one.” Felicity swept up a crumb into her hand and then into the sink. “For what it’s worth, Tally and I are both new to the Steele family realm. As such, we weren’t a part of the old days, the old problems and whatever happened then. But we’re here for you now and want to be your friends, as well as family.”

Brea wanted to believe that. “I’m still getting to know everyone again.”

“Give it time.” Felicity squeezed her hand.

Tally scrunched her freckled nose, grinning. “And while you’re giving it time, tell us... Does Ward kiss as incredibly as it seems he would?”

Brea felt the heat steal up to her face. That particular topic was occupying far more of her thoughts than it should. Her cell phone dinged with an incoming text and Brea embraced the excuse to step away from the intense conversation. She wanted—needed—a chance to regain her footing. “Excuse me for a moment. I need to check that.”

She raced to scoop her phone off the coffee table and turned her back on the two women, who seemed content to snack on their muffins. She thumbed the text open to find...

A message from Ward.

Butterflies launched inside her. She shouldn’t feel this excited, but she did. And she couldn’t afford to be distracted by hormones, not when she finally had a real chance at the answers she craved.

Then she read his message, and it was as if the floor fell away beneath her feet.

I’ll be by at seven to pick you up for supper with the Steeles. Be ready to help me make nice with all your family members on the board.

So much for keeping a lock on her emotions. Her body was already on fire at just the thought of seeing him again.

* * *

Ward knew he was pushing it with the impromptu dinner out with the Steeles. But he’d wanted to see Brea, and this was the fastest, easiest way to lock that down. He didn’t want to think overlong about how damn much he looked forward to seeing her. Better to keep it simple. This was a short-term thing between them. He was married to his work.

So he could just enjoy the moment, and yes, this potential for a fling. By the time she figured out he had set up the get-together, it would be too late. She would already be sitting at the table.

Would she be mad?

Almost certainly.

Was she sexy when riled up?

Absolutely.

He’d been surprised by how much he wanted to see her again. How his intentions had shifted so quickly from wanting to keep an eye on her to wanting to follow through on their attraction. Now he saw that his dating idea had no doubt sprung from the heat that flared whenever they were near each other. But if that played out into a fling, he could handle it. His emotions were locked down tight after the number his ex had pulled on him.

He guided his SUV through the night, headlights striping bands of illumination into the snowy air ahead, Brea in the passenger seat, quiet since he’d picked her up. Likely there were other ways to keep watch over her, but this was far more...entertaining.

Snowflakes sprinkled down, glinting in the beams. Brea looked stunning sitting beside him in a royal-blue wool coat and black leather boots. Her hair was draped over one shoulder in an appealing onyx waterfall. She sat so still and regal, he would have thought her unaffected by this evening together if not for the way she picked at her short fingernails.

Low music played from the speakers, his playlist of classical guitar music.

Brea sighed heavily.

He stifled a grin. “You seem angry, my dear.”

“My dear?” She turned in her seat toward him, the dash lights casting her face in seductive shadows. “Are you serious? No one’s watching us.”

“But you are my dear, new girlfriend.” Flicking his eyes from the road, he met her eyes.

“Fake girlfriend. And since no one’s around, let’s make some ground rules.”

“Such as?” He gripped the leather steering wheel as he accelerated. The sound of the exhaust mingled with the few other trucks on the road.

“You could start telling me about these plans of yours—the whole dating thing and going to the family dinner—earlier than a few minutes ahead of time.”

He didn’t bother noting that he’d given her a few hours to prepare. He got her point. “If I had given you too much advance notice, would you have come along?”

“You’ll never know, will you? You didn’t give me the chance to decide.” She crossed her arms, head turning away from him to look out the window at the snow lightly falling from the sky.

“I do know,” he retorted without hesitation. Then felt the need to own up to planning this. His gut served him well in business. He would think of this arrangement with her like business. “If I’d made the reservations for later in the week, you would have come up with excuses.”

“That’s my right.”

“Yes, it is.” SUV idling at a stoplight, he waited, knowing she would come to the obvious conclusion.

“All right, but if I decline, then I don’t get the inside scoop on my family. Fine.” She huffed in exasperation. “So how about from now on, you give me the opportunity to say yes or no and see what happens.”

“Fair enough. I will take that under consideration.”

Mouth twitching into a satisfied smile, he approached the one-story brown cottage, which had been turned into a restaurant, more eager for her approval than he wanted to admit.

The historic brown building with cream trim seemed bright against the gray backdrop of February skies. Guiding the SUV into the parking lot, he readied himself for this next encounter.

A favorite place of his. Simple from the outside, like a small home, but the restaurant boasted top-notch Alaskan seafood cuisine, the menu changing weekly. With only a dozen tables, it offered an intimate setting. He’d booked the place for the entire night to avoid prying eyes as they became comfortable with other.

He passed the keys to the valet and joined Brea under the covered walk leading to the front door. He clasped her elbow to make sure she didn’t slip, even though the path had been shoveled and salted. The simple touch launched a wave of heat through him. Her quiet gasp told him she wasn’t immune either. The pace of her breathing increased, puffing tiny clouds of air into the night.

He paused outside the door, turning to face her, her eyes locking with his. He lifted a curl of her hair and stroked the length of it, testing the silky texture between his fingers. Her eyes went wide with awareness. He understood the draw well.

More than this ruse, than her family, it was that draw that had brought them both here tonight.

The door swung wide, a host greeting them with a smile as the warmth gusted out. “Welcome to Chez Louis, Mr. Benally. Most of your party has arrived. They’re enjoying drinks in the lounge. Ma’am, if I could take your coat?”

The small crowd of Steeles and Mikkelsons already filled the dining area, most of them standing beneath vintage antler chandeliers. Conversation wafted over in murmurs.

No sooner had Ward and Brea passed off their coats than his date bolted away, under the guise of talking to Felicity and Delaney. The duo stood by a crackling fire, sipping wine. Waitstaff walked from person to person, offering roasted-eggplant pâté on pita bread and gnocchi with cambozola and red crab. Another waiter flourished a tray with Alaskan oysters and Neapolitan seafood mousse.

But Ward’s attention was still on Brea. His smile faded. He didn’t want to frighten her. When he’d roped her into this pretend relationship, he’d been so focused on protecting the company, he hadn’t thought much about what she’d been through, losing her family, for all intents and purposes kidnapped. He needed to weigh his next move carefully to protect the business. And yes, to protect this woman too, if she was somehow as vulnerable as she’d looked in that flash before she’d retreated.

A tap on the shoulder had him looking away to turn and find Broderick Steele, Brea’s oldest brother. “We need to have a talk. Are you actually dating my sister?”

“Why is that a question? I already announced that we are, and we came here together.” Had Brea said something to tip off her brother? Ward studied the man in front of him—the eldest Steele was a carbon copy of his father.

“You barely know her,” Broderick said. “She’s hardly speaking to our family. We don’t know if we can trust her. Shall I keep listing the reasons why this seems like the strangest relationship ever?”

Broderick was sharp from years in the boardroom.

But so was Ward.

“She’s an attractive woman.” His gaze landed on her all over again, enjoying the way she looked in her red sheath dress with long sleeves and a low back. “Circumstances drew us together. We have chemistry. It’s nothing serious at this point, but we’re giving it a go. How’s that for a list?”

“She’s fragile.” Broderick’s shoulders braced protectively as he tightened his grip on his lowball glass.

“You clearly don’t know Brea—the woman she is now—as well as you think.” Even considering that moment of fear in her face, he knew how brave she must be to face all of them after what she’d been through.

But brave didn’t necessarily equate with honest.

“That could be true,” Broderick conceded, tipping his drink from one side to the other, making the ice cubes clink against cut crystal. “I’m not sure anyone does know who she is now, since she’s playing things so close to the vest. What if your relationship explodes in your face?”

Ward glanced across the room to where Brea stood with the other women by the thick cream-colored curtains. Her dark features schooled into practiced neutrality. “Then that would be a damn shame, but I don’t see what it has to do with my contract with the company.”

Broderick’s eyebrows raised as his face became tight, foreboding as a winter storm. “It could make things awkward for you with the family if you two are tangled up with each other.”

“Could. But it won’t. I’m a professional.” And if Brea really was intent on harming the company in some way, he was the only one likely to push hard enough to figure it out. Her family seemed to just want her back, no matter what she’d done.

He understood that feeling well after losing his stepdaughter. But he couldn’t let it jeopardize what he was building here at Alaska Oil Barons, Inc. He had big plans for the company, working with Royce Miller to implement his inventions for the safer transportation of fuel and alternative energy sources. Delaney Steele was also an advocate with strong connections. He had a chance to make a difference.

Broderick eyed him skeptically. “Do you actually think life is that simple?”

“Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t,” he answered as honestly as possible, given the circumstance.

“Okay then, I’ll make this clear and simple for you.” Broderick’s voice dropped an octave as he leaned closer. “Be careful with my sister. Because even if I don’t know exactly who she has become, she is—and always will be—my sister. If you hurt her, there won’t be a place in Alaska remote enough for you to hide.”

“Message heard.” Ward met Broderick’s icy gaze with all the warmth of a tropical island. With a boardroom smile, he inclined his head. “Now I have a date. With your sister.”

And despite all the warnings—from Broderick, and from his own wary nature—Ward very much looked forward to kissing her good-night on her doorstep.

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