were the odds?
Gathering her composure, she opened her eyes to find him standing next to a young nurse who was making no effort to hide checking him out. And he gave no acknowledgment to the flirtatious behavior, which Felicity had to admit moved her. He dated widely, but she’d never heard a negative word about him from other women.
Damn it. She didn’t need these thoughts. “Fifth floor, please.”
She made a point of reviewing the proposal she wanted to give her boss about a new playlist of music and movies for the children in oncology during treatment time.
The elevator slid open again and the cluster of occupants departed, leaving Felicity alone with Conrad. It must have been too much to hope for that he would leave too and make this easier on her. Another part of her whispered that his presence shouldn’t bother her this much.
He stepped up alongside her. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”
She tucked her papers away. “You’re persistent. I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t you want to know more about the foundation’s plans for the hospital?”
She looked up sharply, her gaze colliding with his. A shiver rippled through her as the spicy scent of his aftershave filled her breaths in the small confines of the elevator. Quite simply put, he was yummy, and also offering information she craved.
“I’m intrigued. But I have to say no thank you to dinner.”
He chuckled softly.
“Laughing at me certainly isn’t going to win me over.”
“Trust me, I’m not laughing at you. You do amuse me, but it’s your wit, which I admire and find sexy as hell.” He grinned at her. “Am I doing better?”
Sighing, she searched his face, his too-damn-handsome face. “I don’t understand why you’re still pursuing me.”
“You’re just that amazing.” His eyes held hers again, stirring more of those tingles up and down her spine, making her imagine what it would be like to lean into him, just a hint.
The elevator doors slid open, the movement and people on the other side jarring her out of her daze. Securing her bag, she stepped forward. There was no denying the attraction between them. That had never been in question.
Even now, she could swear she felt the warmth of him just behind her. Because she did.
He’d followed her out of the elevator, on the very floor of her meeting with her boss about an exciting new opportunity. On the very day Conrad had mentioned his family’s charity foundation beginning new endeavors at Anchorage General. With the children. Foreboding swelled through her.
Gesturing forward, Conrad smiled. “It’s going to be a pleasure working together.”
Conrad knew better than to push his luck.
He held the door open for Felicity on their way back out of her boss’s office an hour later. Follow-up meetings had been scheduled for brainstorming potential initiatives for the Steele-Mikkelson charity foundation, to best utilize their donations. They just needed to coordinate with Isabeau Mikkelson for times that worked for her as well, since she was the foundation’s official PR person.
Their primary goal? To have a prospectus in place to unveil at the banquet for the board next month. The next four weeks would offer the perfect opportunities to win over Felicity.
And if she still said no after that? He didn’t want to believe that would happen. But he also wasn’t a jerk. It wasn’t like the two of them had fallen in love at first sight.
Still, he was certain they could have one hell of an affair.
He stopped at the elevator, the set of her shoulders telling him he’d pushed his luck far enough for one day. He pulled out his phone and stepped away from the sliding doors. She shot a surprised look his way and he stifled a smile, surfing his emails by the window to check for updates before heading back to the office.
An hour later, he strode down the corridors of the Alaska Oil Barons Inc.’s corporate offices. He served on the board of directors for his brother’s company, while maintaining an investment business of his own.
Windows along the length of the corridor overlooked the frozen harbor. The other wall was lined with framed artistic photographs of the Alaskan countryside. This building had been the Steele offices, and since the merger, it was the primary headquarters. The Mikkelson tower was still open and filled to capacity, and the styles of the two offices had begun to merge. The chrome decor of the Steele building now sported some metal-tipped teak pieces.
Conrad opened the conference room door. The lengthy table was already more than halfway full. At the head, his brother, Jack sat, beside his new wife, Jeannie Mikkelson-Steele, whose influence extended well beyond changes to the furniture.
Jack leaned back in his seat, waving his brother into the room. “We’re just waiting for Naomi to arrive. How did things go at the hospital?”
Conrad rolled a chair away from the table and placed his briefcase on the sleek, polished wood. “The kids were grateful for the books and the story time.”
Jack smiled slowly. “I was talking about the meeting with Felicity Hunt, her boss and the hospital’s PR director.”
Taking his seat, Conrad used the excuse of pulling out paperwork to delay answering the question. The last thing he needed was an overeager family spooking Felicity.
From his briefcase, he pulled an extra copy of the children’s book he’d read at the hospital. He passed the paperback to Glenna Mikkelson-Steele—Jeannie’s oldest daughter. “I brought this for Fleur.”
To everyone’s surprise, Glenna had married Jack’s oldest son, who many had thought would assume the family helm. But Broderick had held firm to his position of splitting the CFO duties with his wife so they could focus on their growing family. Everyone in the family was stretched thin, and the acting CEO had moved to North Dakota for a less taxing position so he could spend more time with his wife and start a family.
The board was in final talks trying to lure Ward Benally from the competition. Landing him would be a coup. He worked for a rival company and was a respected—and feared—leader in the oil industry. Benally was also a tough negotiator—which made hammering out a contract a challenge, but it would be a boon if they pulled it off.
Conrad was doing his best to help his family through the transition of the merger. He slid another copy to the far end of the table where Trystan Mikkelson—black sheep of the family—sat with his very pregnant wife. The company’s PR consultant, Isabeau Mikkelson, rested one hand on her very pregnant stomach and her other hand on her service dog’s head. The Labrador retriever assisted in alerting to Isabeau’s diabetes, especially important with a baby on the way.
Jack snagged an extra copy from his brother’s briefcase, fanning through the pages. “And your meeting?”
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Conrad evaded while pulling his
