“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.”
Copyright © 2019 by Catherine Mann
ISBN-13: 9781488046360
Best Friends, Secret Lovers
Copyright © 2019 by Jessica Lemmon
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