* * *
Delaney Steele had a secret.
Sliding the cell phone into her coat pocket, she hoped what she’d been doing—was about to do again—wouldn’t wreck her sister’s plan with Royce Miller.
But she just couldn’t bring herself to tell Naomi.
Stepping out of her SUV into the snowy parking lot, Delaney braced herself for the walk into the Steele family headquarters. Wind whipped hard off the mountains, bringing a frosty bite against her cheek until she yanked up the deep hood of her parka.
Maybe Delaney was too adept at keeping things hidden, until it just became instinct. Such as how she wasn’t as shy as she pretended to be. Or how she’d kissed her sister’s boyfriend in high school. Or that she was scared of everyone’s dogs, but didn’t want to hurt their feelings.
Or how she fought survivor’s guilt every day of her life.
She’d pretended to have the flu before the fateful flight that had shattered her family. Her mother had discovered the faked fever. Delaney had begged her mom not to go. Silly really. She’d just wanted her to stay to go shopping for makeup. Naomi had offered to accompany Delaney instead. Case closed.
Their mom and sister, Brea, had left for the flight—late. If they’d been on time...
What-ifs could rule a life.
Messenger bag tucked under her arm, Delaney put her head down and trudged forward, boots crunching through the icy crust that no amount of salting and shoveling could clear on mornings like this one. Forward was the only way she knew, after all.
These days, with so many regrets, she lived each day determined to grasp what she wanted and not add a single new item to that list. So hell no, she wasn’t even close to being the crusader, the good girl her family believed. She’d only wanted to somehow make a mark, somehow help other families not suffer the pain hers had experienced.
She just hoped her current secret didn’t torpedo all of Naomi’s careful plans. Because Delaney was in so deep now, she wasn’t sure she could stop herself if she tried.
Royce never would have imagined silk thermals on a woman could look sexier than any lingerie.
Not that he could think of any woman other than Naomi at the moment. This one was filling his every thought.
Which wasn’t a wise idea when they would be sharing a one-room studio igloo-cabin for an undetermined amount of time. It wasn’t like he could jog off his pent-up sexual tension outside. The snowstorm was still raging. Even getting his dog to make the requisite “nature’s breaks” outdoors was tough. Tessie bolted out into the igloo tunnel, had her moment and sprinted back into the shelter in record time. She shook snowflakes off her shaggy coat, creating a mini flurry indoors.
Too bad they couldn’t all just hibernate.
Last night, he’d kept his eyes averted when Naomi had come out of the restroom, because just the sound of her movements, the scent of her, was distraction enough. And yes, once he’d given up and stretched out on the sofa, he’d watched her sleep. The covers had been pulled up to her shoulders, but the moonlight had played over her face.
It had been a long time since he’d slept with a woman. More than a year. There were offers, but lately work had consumed his life. He didn’t have time for a relationship. This was a turning point in his research, everything coming together at just the right time.
To be honest, he was racing to finalize his work because the Alaskan pipeline production through Canada and into the Dakotas would ramp up sooner rather than later. If anything, the Steele-Mikkelson merger had accelerated the program since their major Alaskan competitor, Johnson Oil United, was sending signals of speeding their plans while the Steele-Mikkelsons were preoccupied with the merger.
And the more the businesses raced against each other, the more Royce worried. This wasn’t the type of industry to rush, and the Johnsons already showed some hints of corner cutting. Even minuscule miscalculations could prove deadly or leave long-lasting contamination concerns. He couldn’t afford distractions.
And no question, this woman was a major distraction.
There was something about Naomi...something he couldn’t identify that tugged at him, a feeling that he couldn’t shake. That there was more than met the eye with her. In a good or bad way? He didn’t know.
Although he did know he needed to be on his toes around her until he figured her out.
He looped the towel around the doorknob and reached for his Massachusetts Institute of Technology—MIT—sweatshirt, mulling over the best way to learn more about her. He needed to find a chink in that spunky facade, to see who she was on the inside and discover if a quirk of fate had truly brought her here. Or if there might be another reason she was holed up with him. Regardless, she intrigued him.
Tugging on the thick fleece, he stepped deeper into the room, aware of her sharp, analytic eyes. “So, you grew up in Alaska?”
“I did.” She curled her toes in her socks and sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Could you have handled that bear on your own?”
“Maybe. Okay, probably,” she said, smiling, her nose crinkling, knees bouncing nervously. “But I enjoyed watching you take over.”
“How magnanimous of you.” His dry tone cut her smile. She exchanged it for a wink before readjusting on the couch, a shift that revealed her curves more fully.
“Your ego seems solid.” She looked at him squarely, but her twitching increased.
He dropped to sit at the end of the sofa, searching her deep brown eyes. “What’s really going on here with you showing up?”
She stared back for a solid, sparking sixty seconds or so before shooting to her feet. “I have to go to the restroom.”
And just that fast, she bolted away, the bathroom door slamming and locking behind her.
* * *
Naomi had never been so glad to take advantage of a pregnancy symptom.
She had to use the bathroom at least twice as often these days, which made the one-facility situation here a tricky element she hadn’t considered in driving up to the secluded cabin. But as Royce had pressed her with questions, she’d been glad for the excuse to leave the room.
Brushing away morning breath went a long way too in clearing her sleep-fogged mind. Now that she’d had time to fully wake up, she had a plan.
She had decided to take a calculated risk.
Royce was a man of logic, a scientist. So, she intended to throw him for a loop, knock him off balance. Opting for outrageous remarks had worked well for her in the past in getting people to say things they might not have otherwise. And then with laughter and the sharing of even a little secret, they relaxed, revealing more as the rapport strengthened.
Such a tactic might well work in her favor now.
Naomi left the bathroom cubicle and leaned against the archway leading into the studio area. Royce moved efficiently in the kitchen, cooking bacon, sausage, and popping large slices of fresh wheat bread onto a toaster slab that fit in the fireplace.
Her mouth watered and her senses tingled on high alert. Because of her pregnancy or because of the man?
She reminded herself of her mission. She tugged the hem of her boring thermal shirt and asked, “Wanna play strip poker? I’ll trade you clothes for first dibs on that food.”
He glanced over his broad shoulder. “Do you always proposition strangers?”
“Only you.”