The Double Deal Page 9

  He remembered well the taste of that creamy patch of skin. “Yes, it is. And you’re anything but a stereotype.”

  Her mouth softened, delectably so. “I think you just complimented me.”

  “Maybe. But either way, you can be damn sure, you’re not driving out of here alone.” He’d barely survived the guilt after his fiancée’s accident. He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Naomi, no matter how much she wanted to call the shots.

  And no sooner had the words fallen out of his mouth than her smile went tight.

  “Sure,” she said, inching away. “I really need to get some sleep.”

  While he knew he sometimes fell short on gauging the emotional component of a conversation, he could tell loud and clear she’d shut him down. He just wished he understood why.

  Seven

  Naomi woke, blinked, confused for a moment about her surroundings. The warm weight of a masculine arm over her stomach grounded her, the stream of acknowledgments flooding back as an information wave.

  She was with Royce. Her father was in the hospital. Careful not to wake Royce, she eased out from under his muscled arm to retrieve her cell phone from the bedside table. She thumbed the screen...and no messages, no signal.

  Sighing in frustration, she smacked the phone down onto the comforter. The snow was so thick she couldn’t even see the sky anymore.

  She turned her head on the pillow to look at Royce. He’d been so much calmer than she’d expected when she’d told him everything. Although it was clear he was angry, and she’d almost certainly blown any chance of getting him to join her family’s company, he’d still offered his compassion and protection. He’d still insisted on taking care of her. She should have tried to talk to him more, but...

  She’d just fallen asleep. Out like a light so fast. She’d read that pregnancy would make her sleepy, but she suspected her exhaustion had more to do with the emotional outlay of her fears for her father and her confrontation with Royce.

  The hell of it all? She’d really enjoyed her time with him—and the amazing sex—and she wished she could lose herself in that now. But her fear for her dad had her heart in a vise. Only the comfort of Royce’s arm around her, the warmth of his body beside her, kept her from bursting into tears altogether.

  Tears were something she’d always had trouble setting free, a facet of her personality forever linked to her teenage years. To holding back her grief over losing her mother and sister because everyone else was hurting so much. To battling cancer and trying to spare her father more pain.

  Those circumstances grated on Naomi, made her internalize her fear into a decisive, deadly logical blade. It was what made her a damn good lawyer. Fear of losing pushed her to assemble a facade of brick in the courtroom. As a teenager facing down the likelihood that her disease just might beat her, she had chosen to emulate the wild abandon of her environment.

  She’d done it for her family’s sake, even though every fiber of her being shook test after test, treatment after treatment. For her brothers, sister and dad, she learned to bury the urge to cry or to express fear. Instead, she adopted a carefree air.

  There had been one time she’d really let the reality of her treatment get to her and it had been the last time she’d given herself permission to lose her resolve in front of her family. A moment etched forever in her memory. The day her hair had started to fall out as a reaction to the chemo.

  Naomi’s hair had always been a point of pride—something that connected her to the mother she’d lost as a preteen. Naomi’s mother had spoken of the way it shone with night—radiant, like a character in the old, oral stories her mother’s grandmother had shared by firelight. So, when the first chunk of the hair her mother had brushed—and the hair so like her mom’s that it had prompted a look into her mother’s heritage—fell out, teenage Naomi had privately crumbled. Not out of vanity. But over yet another loss—the tie to her mother, her sister too.

  Tears had burned in her eyes as she brought the lock to her father and siblings. Her sister Delaney had done her best to cheer her up, but even as a teenager, Naomi knew her condition wore heavy on them. Too much grief in one family only two years after that fatal plane crash.

  She’d resented her body for putting them all through this. And she’d wanted her mother so much.

  She still did.

  Her hand slid over her stomach.

  In her mind’s eye, she imagined her unborn child. Names spoken by her mother during the stories she’d passed down danced silently on her tongue now. The love she already had for the baby steadied her, reminding her of the importance of connection. Of family. When she’d opted for in vitro, she’d had such plans for bringing up her baby here in Alaska, her big family surrounding the child with love too. She would embrace the future, have a family of her own, on her terms.

  Right now, she couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have a man like Royce at her side when she’d decided to become a mother. Even thinking about it made her go weak on the inside.

  A reaction she couldn’t afford with her life in more turmoil than ever.

  She’d seen the determination in his eyes when he’d said he intended to drive her into town. And the lawyer in her recognized that arguing with him on that point would be futile. She’d failed to win him over to the company, and she’d lost whatever romantic connection they’d shared. Both threatened to send her knees folding.

  Once the snow eased and roads cleared, she would be spending a few awkward hours with him in an SUV. After that? She doubted she would ever see him again.

  How was it that her brain—a legal mind that always served her well in thinking on her feet—was on total stun now? She needed a plan B. She always had one.

  Except for now. Somehow, this one man had changed everything.

  * * *

  Royce’s hands gripped the wheel of the SUV, his abacus key chain swaying. He’d surprised the hell out of himself by offering to drive Naomi to Anchorage to be with her family. They had chemistry, sure, but she was also a Steele.

  And she was pregnant.

  His gut went icy at the thought. Yet even as the thought chilled him, he couldn’t ignore the need to see her safely home.

  Despite the freezing temperature, the palms of his hands slicked with sweat as he navigated the vehicle on the still-snow-covered Alaskan back roads. The moisture had little to do with the warmth produced by the car’s heated seats. No. It had everything to do with his beating chest, his concern for the beautiful woman seated next to him. He needed to get her to her father.

  The storm had let up enough for them to leave. He knew better than to let this break in the weather pass them by, even if a selfish part of him wanted to return to the bed and just hold her. Be near her.

  Flicking his eyes off the road to see Naomi, he watched her absently catalog the thick snowbanks and snow-drenched trees. Her head casually rested forehead to glass, the thick tangles of her hair obscuring most of her face.

  She clutched her phone in her manicured hand, an exhale sending her body moving. “Uh-huh...Yes...I understand.”

  Her half whisper was so soft it stoked over Royce’s senses. Dangerous on more than one level.

  He gathered his attention back to the icy road, ahead and behind.

  Glancing in his rearview mirror, he took in the lay of the land covered in the thick blanket of new snow. The roads were passable with careful speed and four-wheel drive, but he still needed to be on alert. They’d been driving for about a half hour and they’d yet to encounter another living soul. Even the wildlife seemed subdued, hidden still after nature’s onslaught. Too bad that same peace was nowhere near echoed inside him.

  “Okay. Okay. I just—” Naomi’s voice mingled with the weather station on low that filled the spaces between her silence.

  “Can I say hi to the baby?” Naomi asked, her tone li
ghter than a moment before.

  From his peripheral vision, he saw her move her hand cautiously to her own stomach. Royce scratched a hand along his jaw. Damn, but this was all complicated.

  “Hey there, princess. Auntie Naomi misses you.”

  The affection in her voice couldn’t be missed. He thought of the child he’d lost. The life he’d almost had with his ex-fiancée. The secret Naomi was keeping from her family. His hands clenched around the steering wheel at the urge to keep her safe. To not let the past repeat itself. To put safety first.

  Cricking his neck from side to side, he worked to ease his grip on the wheel before his fingers numbed. The road back to Anchorage always ramped him up, but not necessarily in a good way. Too much activity, noise, business clogged creative thought. It’s why he’d chosen the rental igloo outside of Anchorage. The oscillation from chunks of ice moving in the water on one side and mountains on the other stimulated his brain, somehow helped him situate his thinking and calibrate his equations for a safer pipeline procedure.

  To temper the desire for Naomi until he had her settled—and figure out what the hell to do next.

  The scientific process, for all its precision, owed something to the humble power of nature. Still, that thought didn’t keep him from noticing how the light refracted off the snow and illuminated Naomi’s face as she readjusted her seat.

  Tessie let out a long sigh from the back, refocusing his attention from his wandering thoughts to the present moment. Another glance in the rearview revealed an ecstatic Saint Bernard, one clearly excited to be out of close quarters. Tessie wagged her tail, head bobbing, taking in the rush of scenery, the layers of snow and ice that made their home so pristine and beautiful.

  For the first time since they began their trek back to the city, they passed another SUV.

  The sudden intrusion of other people jarred him for a moment and made him realize she’d stopped talking. Even though Naomi had been speaking on the phone to her brother, there’d been a way to feel as though this part of the world belonged to them and them alone.

  Royce glanced over at her. “Any news about your father’s condition?” She cradled the phone in her lap.

  “The doctors are waiting for his blood pressure to stabilize before surgery. He’s otherwise stable, stuck in bed in a neck brace, but awake and as clear as anyone with a major concussion can be.”

  “We’ll arrive as soon as I can safely get there.” His primary objective was a safe journey for her and her unborn child.

  “I wanted to hear the surgery had already been done. That all had gone perfectly, and Dad was ready to jog down the hall.”

  “Jog?” His attention returned to the road as he navigated along a patch of ice. The tires skidded for a moment. For a Texas boy, Royce had learned the nuances of driving in these conditions like he learned everything else—relentless experimentation and practice.

  She laughed softly, the sound an enticing curl between them. “Maybe that was optimistic, but it sounded good when I was thinking it.”

  “I wish I could tell you everything’s going to be fine, but life isn’t always fair.”

  “If that’s supposed to be a pep talk, you’re not doing so hot.” She gathered her hair into her fist and twisted a hair tie from her wrist to make a ponytail. Her diamond stud earrings caught the light.

  “You would have known blind reassurance was a lie. I was going to finish by saying he has the best care possible and a reputation for being strong as an ox.”

  “Much better that time.” She gave him a small laugh. But more important, a genuine one.

  Victory pumped through him—over eliciting a simple laugh. He really needed to get his head on straight. “Good to know.”

  She tapped on the window glass, as if she was locating Anchorage with her fingertips. Her shoulders sunk as she leaned forward, eyes attentive on the snowy landscape. “I realize he has lots of family support. I just wish I was already there.”

  “Three siblings, right?”

  “Four actually...four living, that is. Two older brothers, a younger sister, a younger brother...and my sister who died with my mother in the plane crash.”

  He gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’d heard Jack Steele had a lot of kids, but that sure is a large family.”

  “Going to get even bigger now that he’s marrying Jeannie Mikkelson. She’s got four kids—two sons and two daughters—who have a claim to the company.”

  “The merged company, you mean.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, merged. Which is easier said than done. Believe it or not, I care about preserving the way business is done, and I worry about this. There are so many ways it can go wrong. Even if we do work out our differences, if there’s a dip in power and Johnson Oil United uses that to their advantage...”

  “Which is why you wanted to bring me in, because you love the land and not because you’re a lawyer jockeying for a stronger power play for your family in this merger.”

  She didn’t speak for a moment, the blast of the heater and crunching ice under the tires the only sounds. He glanced over quickly.

  Her lips were pressed in a tight line, the pink straining to blanched white. “It’s okay to care about both. Although right now, business is the last thing on my mind.”

  “Are you okay? I mean, do you feel alright?”

  “I’m fine,” she said tightly, “but thank you for your concern. Do you have siblings?”

  “Nope. Just my parents, older, I was a surprise.” A surprise and an anomaly.

  “Sounds...quiet. Is that why you’re so quiet sometimes?”

  He looked hard at the road in front of him, assessing the slight snow increase. Explaining why he was quiet was like trying to explain his DNA. “I’m an introvert. A scientist. I was always three grades ahead in school. It’s who I am.”

  “And I brought all this mayhem to your life.”

  “I’m a willing participant, and I have the ability to retreat to quiet as needed.” Squeezing her hand again, he hoped she could feel his urge to get her to Anchorage safely.

  “We’re very different.”

  “Yes, we are. Is that a bad thing?” It hadn’t seemed like such a problem back at the retreat when they’d landed in bed together.

  “Depends.” Her head dipped and she seemed intent on studying his hand.

  A wall of snow flurries intensified, forcing his attention back to the road. He loosened his grip from her, needing both hands on the wheel. It was time to focus on the road. To get her to safety.

  In the ensuing silence, broken only by the weather station on the radio, a gentle snore from Tessie in the back. And in the pensive quiet he couldn’t ignore the obvious any longer.

  He didn’t want to say goodbye to Naomi once they reached Anchorage.

  * * *

  Hospitals always made her stomach churn with apprehension. The too-white lights beat down on her, settling on her skin like an unrelenting sun. In all her years, a visit to the hospital had never been quick or easy.

  Glancing right, she looked at Royce, who stood cross-armed, and she had the feeling he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. When they’d stopped for gas, he’d called ahead for a place to board Tessie. She’d tried not to read too much into that beyond the fact he wasn’t going to toss Naomi out at the hospital door, a place the dog wasn’t welcome.

  Royce was plastered to her side, one hand on her back every step of the way. As if she hadn’t been walking on icy sidewalks her whole life.

  Broderick leaned against the arm of an industrial-looking green couch, guardian-like over his fiancée, Glenna, who sat next to her mother, comforting Jeannie. Normally, Glenna’s blond hair fell in fairy-princess waves around her shoulders. But today her hair was drawn back into a sloppy bun.

  Jeannie’s expression was obscured by her hands over her face. Even from here, as Royce a
nd Naomi closed the distance from the entrance to the hospital, she could see how her father’s former rival was racked with worry and grief.

  They weren’t the only ones there in the waiting room. In fact, the place was packed. As Naomi scanned the scene, she realized her family and the Mikkelsons—who she supposed were also family now—had taken over much of the waiting area.

  Her sister Delaney paced the floor, darting around her youngest brother, Aiden. Poor Aiden. Normally he seemed so grown-up. Responsible. But today he looked like the teenager he was, lines of worry cutting into his face.

  Delaney, nurturing as ever, rushed toward Royce and Naomi.

  Trystan, Jeannie’s youngest son, the rancher, had been standing off in the corner, but as Naomi came closer, he moved to the other side of his mother, eyes narrowed. “What’s he doing here?”

  The words dripped with a defensive, protective quality. She hadn’t had much exposure to Trystan, but she knew he could be hard to handle, preferring the solitude of managing the ranch to family business.

  Royce glanced quickly at her before extending his hand to Jeannie’s son. An attempt to diffuse the tension, perhaps? “Royce Miller.”

  With a calculated, thin-lipped glance, Trystan stared at Royce. He held his head high, the longer hair over his forehead revealing something about his no-nonsense behavior. “I know who you are.”

  “Naomi and I were discussing pipeline business when your call came through. The weather’s so bad, I drove her over,” Royce offered by way of explanation.

  Trystan Mikkelson leveled a surprised stare at Naomi. “You got an audience with the elusive Royce Miller? While you were working miracles, did you manage to convince Birch Montoya to invest a few million more?”

  Broderick choked on a cough. Others looked skyward. Trystan wasn’t known for his diplomacy. Thank heaven he wasn’t the mouthpiece for his family’s side of the business.

  Royce put a hand on her shoulder, and she tried not to lean into his touch. “Naomi, I’m going to find coffee. I’ll bring back enough for everyone.”