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
