The Baby Claim

by Catherine Mann

  “I’ll have the security guards strip-search you on the way out.”

  Just as he’d decided her word choice was accidental, she glanced back over her shoulder, blue eyes glimmering with mischief.

  Heat spread and he moved to her side, ducking his head toward hers. “Will you personally supervise the search? Lucky for me I wore my favorite comic-character boxer shorts.”

  She arched one delicate blond eyebrow. She’d always had a way of putting a person in his place quietly, succinctly. “You flatter yourself.”

  “I dream, oh lady, I dream.”

  She tipped her head, her eyebrows pulling together. “I have to ask. Do you treat all business professionals this way?”

  “Only the business professionals I’ve already had an affair with. Actually, strike that.” He held up a hand. “Only you. Everyone else at work, it’s all business.”

  “A poor choice during one weekend in college is not the same as an affair.” Her hands on her hips accentuated her curves in that killer power suit.

  He ached to peel it off her.

  Broderick clapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me. That weekend is my benchmark for all other relationships. Every woman falls short after you.”

  Had he really said that out loud? It had almost felt like he’d meant it.

  He was saved from pondering that uncomfortable thought when the elevator bell dinged. They’d reached their destination.

  Glenna surprised him by pressing the button to keep the doors closed. “Your board of directors may buy your bull, but I’m not fooled by your smooth talk.”

  She was right. Whatever he was doing with her, it had no place in the office.

  But they were in the elevator. Alone.

  He was not one to let an opportunity pass by.

  He stepped closer, inhaling the scent of her. Almonds... Unexpected. Sensual. “What if I’m serious?”

  Her eyes widened before she touched his elbow. “Then I am so very sorry you were hurt.” Her throat moved with a swallow. Then her elegant nose scrunched and she pointed a slim finger at him. “But I’m not buying that line about all women falling short. Now stop playing me and let’s speak to my mother.”

  Glenna let the elevator open, then charged ahead of him around a corner to an empty receptionist’s desk. “I’m not sure where Sage is—”

  Glenna’s young cousin Sage Hammond rounded the corner just then, smoothing her simple turtleneck sweater dress as she took her place at her chair. “I’ve been away from my desk. I was meeting with your assistant in the tech department. I’m sorry to have left things unattended. Your mother was busy with a call when I left.” She tapped the phone console, strands of her whispy blond hair falling across her shoulders. “But the light’s off now so she must be finished, if you wish to go inside.”

  Broderick nodded. “Thank you, Miss Hammond.”

  Glenna muttered, “Eyes off my cousin,” as she reached for the door handle of the next office.

  Jealous? Interesting. “I don’t pluck wings off butterflies.”

  Glenna’s sky-blue eyes shifted with something he couldn’t name, just briefly, then she turned away and walked into her mother’s office.

  The interior held more of that Mikkelson charm. Antiques and splashes of light green filled the room, as if to bring life inside. Two walls of windows let sunlight stream into the corner office, and more rays poured through a skylight. Outside, the streets teemed with people, cars and even an ambling moose.

  But the office itself was empty.

  “Mom? I’m here with Broderick Steele. There’s been a misunderstanding, a rumor we need to clear up.” Glenna looked around. “I know she’s here. There’s her leather portfolio bag and her coat, even her cashmere scarf. She must be getting coffee.”

  Or in the powder room? Glenna’s gaze flicked to the private bathroom.

  Muffled sounds came from within, like a shower maybe, soft and indistinctive. Steam seeped from under the door as if the water had been running a long time. A moan filtered through. From an enjoyable shower? Or was that a sound of pain? He wasn’t sure.

  Broderick backed into the sitting area, away from the line of sight of the bathroom. “I’ll step out so you can check on her. If you need any help, just say the word.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. Mom?” Concern laced Glenna’s voice. “Mom, are you okay?”

  There was no answer.

  Glenna looked at Broderick. “I hate to just burst in, but if she’s ill... If it’s an emergency...”

  “Your call. Do you want me to leave?” Maybe health issues might explain the strange business behavior.

  “How about you stay back, but nearby in case I need to send you for Sage.” Glenna tapped lightly on the door. “Mother, it’s me. Are you all right?”

  He studied the top of his boots, keeping his eyes averted.

  “Mother, I’m worried. I don’t want to embarrass you, but I need to know you’re okay. I’m coming in.”

  When the doorknob rattled, Broderick glanced up and saw Glenna shaking her head. His concern ratcheted a notch higher.

  “It’s locked.” She knocked harder on the door. “Mom, you’re scaring me. Open up. Please.” She reached into her pocket. “I’m going to use my master key to come in.” She opened the door—and squeaked.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, launching Broderick into motion. He rushed forward and rested a palm on her back, ready to help with whatever crisis might be unfolding.

  Glenna pressed a steadying hand on the bathroom door frame. “Mom?”

  Broderick stopped short. Blinked. Blinked again. And holy crap, he still couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Glenna might have been surprised, but Broderick was stunned numb. He even braced his booted feet because his world had done a somersault.

  Jeannie Mikkelson stood wrapped in a towel in the steam-filled, white-tiled bathroom, and she wasn’t alone.

  An all-too-familiar figure edged in front of her—pushing Glenna’s mother safely behind his broad chest.

  Confused, Broderick couldn’t stop himself from asking the obvious. “Dad?”

  Two

  Pacing in her mother’s reception area, Glenna struggled to push through the fog of...confusion? Shock? She didn’t know how to wrap her brain around what she’d seen, much less put a label on it.

  Her mother was having an affair with their corporate enemy.

  Okay, so, technically, Glenna had done the same in college, but she and Broderick hadn’t held positions in the family businesses then. Even now they weren’t the owners and acting CEOs of both companies. They weren’t the parents who had perpetuated the feud with dinner table discussions of suspicions and rumors.

  Back in college, Glenna had felt so guilty, like such a turncoat because of her attraction to Broderick. She’d felt that way just fifteen minutes ago in her office.

  Now, she glanced across the waiting area at...the son of her mother’s lover, boyfriend, whatever.

  This was so surreal.

  And Broderick was still infuriatingly hot. But things were more complicated than they’d been before, which had been mighty damn complicated.

  He rested one lean hip against a wingback chair, his booted foot tapping restlessly. Her cousin looked back and forth between them. Sage obviously sensed something was wrong, but she kept her lips pressed closed. She wouldn’t ask.

  And she wouldn’t gossip. Very likely that had been a quality high on Jeannie Mikkelson’s list when she’d chosen her assistant.

  Did Sage already know about the affair? And perhaps about whatever was going on with their stocks? If some hint of the relationship between the two oil moguls had leaked, that could explain the odd fluctuations in stock holdings as investors grew unsure, some selling off their interests while others scooped up more, based on their own hypot
heses.

  So many questions.

  Starting with...how long did it take to throw on some clothes? Glenna winced at the thought.

  The door to her mother’s office finally swung open, the Alaskan yellow cedar panel revealing her mom, with Jack Steele standing tall right behind her, a gleam in his green eyes. Protective. Territorial. An unrelenting look Glenna had seen before in his business dealings. But this was different. So different.

  She shifted her gaze to her mom.

  Her mother’s damp hair was pulled back in a clip, but otherwise there was no sign of what had happened. Jeannie Mikkelson was as poised and strong as ever. She’d run the corporation alongside her husband for years, and then taken the helm alone after his first major heart attack debilitated him.

  She’d kept the business running at full speed through his entire health crisis and even held it together after that final fatal heart attack. The whole family had been rocked. But Jeannie? Glenna had seen her cry only once.

  Her mother excelled at keeping her emotions under wraps.

  So it was no surprise she remained unreadable now. This wasn’t about her mother having a relationship with someone other than Glenna’s father.

  It was about her mom having a relationship with this man.

  Jack Steele looked like an older version of his eldest son, with dark hair more liberally streaked with gray. He’d kept in shape, but age had thickened him. He was a character, similar to all three of his sons. He was executive and cowboy. And Alaskan.

  One of the many headlines from his magazine profiles scrolled through her mind. The CEO Wore Mukluks.

  Jeannie nodded toward her assistant. “Sage, could you hold all my calls and redirect any visitors?”

  “Of course, Aunt Jeannie.” Sage already had her notebook tablet in hand and was tapping with delicate efficiency.

  “This may take a while.”

  “I’ll reschedule your eleven o’clock and send Chuck to take him out to lunch.”

  Chuck, aka Charles Mikkelson III, was Jeannie’s son, Glenna’s brother and second in command of the company. Heir apparent to take over when Jeannie retired.

  If she ever retired. Jeannie was still vibrant and going strong, only in her sixties.

  “That’s the perfect plan. Thank you, dear.” Jeannie waved Glenna and Broderick into the office and Jack closed the door behind them, clicking the lock to ensure there would be no interruptions.

  Glenna swayed and Broderick palmed her waist. She couldn’t help but be grateful for the momentary steadying, even as his hand seared her.

  Jack raised one eyebrow before saying, “Let’s all have a seat.”

  Glenna self-consciously stepped away from Broderick, the tingle of his touch lingering.

  The Steele patriarch pulled one of the green club chairs closer to the other, then touched Jeannie’s arm lightly as she took her seat. He eyed the sofa, making it clear that Broderick and Glenna were to park themselves on it like two kids waiting to be put in their place.

  Broderick still wasn’t speaking, although he settled beside her on the apple-green sofa. Glenna couldn’t get a read on him, but then her brain was jumbled again just by the simple brush of his knee against hers.

  What the hell was it with the Steele men?

  Her mother and Jack were now holding hands like teenagers. It was sweet—sort of—but still such a jarring sight. “Mom, I know this is your personal business and I don’t want to pry, but you have to understand how confusing this is, given our families’ histories.”

  “I realize this is more than a little awkward, Glenna, and we’d hoped to talk to everyone as a family soon.”

  Broderick tapped the file against his leg. “Talk to us about...which part? The relationship between the two of you, or is there something else you want to share? Something, say, business related.”

  Jack’s thumb caressed Jeannie’s wrist. “We want you both to know that this has come as a surprise to us, as well. Nothing happened while either of us was still married. We were very happy in our marriages.”

  Her mom leaned forward, reaching out to Glenna. “I loved your father, you know that. I still do.”

  Jack cleared his throat. “Son, you understand how...difficult... How...your mother’s death...”

  Looking over with a sympathetic smile, Jeannie squeezed his hand before continuing, “Jack and I have spent a lot of time together these past months dealing with different EPA issues and concerns with the economy.”

  “But our companies are in competition,” Glenna pointed out, still not understanding the situation.

  “Our companies were eating each other alive. We would have been at risk from a takeover by Johnson Oil United. Their CEO, Ward Benally, has been making acquisitions and filings on their behalf that are concerning. We decided, out of a love for what we’ve built and for our home state, that we needed to talk.”

  Talk? Glenna couldn’t help but note, “Clearly you’ve been doing more than talking.”

  After the words fell out, she winced at her own lack of diplomacy.

  Her mother, however, laughed with a light snort. “Clearly. We were as surprised as you are.” She tipped her head to the side. “Well, maybe not literally as surprised as the two of you were when you opened that bathroom door.”

  Jeannie’s mouth twitched at the corners, then laughter rolled out of her. Jack’s deep chuckles joined hers and they exchanged an unmistakably intimate look as they sagged back into the chairs, hands still linked.

  For some reason, that moment made Glenna far more uncomfortable than seeing them in towels earlier. This was about more than sex. This truly was a relationship, a connection, something she didn’t have in her life anymore, now that her husband was dead.

  She might not have been married as long as her mother, but Glenna understood the pain of widowhood. And her deepest regret beyond losing him? She didn’t even have a child of theirs to love.

  Glenna pinched two fingers to the bridge of her nose, pressing against the corners of her eyes, where tears welled. So much loss. So much change. Too much for her to process.

  Broderick inched forward and slapped the file down on the coffee table. “If we’re all done with laughing, let me get this straight. The data and rumors that point to a merger of our two companies are not rumors. You’re genuinely planning to dismantle both corporations, and you expect us all to join forces without input or discussion.”

  “No,” Jack stated.

  “Of course we don’t,” Jeannie echoed. “We’re all adults and we have always intended to treat you as such. Things just happened so quickly between us we haven’t had a chance to bring you up to speed.”

  “But,” Jack interrupted, “we intend to. And soon. Very soon, son.”

  Broderick frowned. “Please say you don’t intend to put us all in a room together, Dad.”

  “Not for the initial discussion,” his father answered. “We are smarter than that.”

  Good thing. Being this close to Broderick, even for such a short time, was interfering with Glenna’s ability to focus. And it seemed she would need to keep her wits about her now, more than she’d realized even a half hour ago. “Mom, what exactly do you have in mind?”

  “We want to arrange family meetings separately first,” she explained, her blue eyes worried but resolute. “We’ll need to allow everyone time to process what we have to say.”

  “But then...” Jack held up a finger in a lecturing style that made Glenna wince. He wasn’t her father. And he wasn’t her boss. Yet. “We fully expect everyone to accept our decisions.”

  Broderick gave a hefty exhalation as he sat back for the first time. “Dad, I think you’re expecting a lot awfully fast.” He turned to Glenna. “I don’t know about your family, but my brothers and sisters? They’re going to blow a gasket.”

  Glenna was completely in
sync with Broderick on that point at least. Because expecting her siblings to end a decades-long family feud after a simple conversation, expecting them to accept what appeared to be a blending of the businesses, too?

  Blow a gasket?

  Understatement of the year.

  * * *

  Broderick had eaten in restaurants around the globe, with food cooked by the finest chefs, and he’d enjoyed every meal.

  But none of them outstripped the cuisine here at Kit’s Kodiak Café in the little town outside Anchorage. The diner, a rustic barn type structure, was perched along the bay’s edge. The paned windows presented a clear view of a dock stretching out into the harbor, an occasional whale’s back cresting through floating chunks of ice. Inside, long planked tables accommodated large, noisy groups—like his family.

  Menus crackled in front of the others, but he knew what he wanted, so his menu stayed folded. He flipped his coffee mug upright to signify java would be welcome. The waitress took their orders with quick efficiency and no pandering, another reason they all enjoyed coming here. Their family was well known in this café, but they appreciated not receiving special treatment.

  He and his siblings had been coming to Kit’s since they were children. Their father brought them most Saturday mornings and sometimes before school so their mother could sleep in. He would bundle them up. Half the time, their gloves didn’t match, but they always had on a hat and boots as they piled into the family Suburban.

  Broderick hadn’t realized then how his billionaire father was trying to keep them grounded in grass roots values by taking them to “regular Joe” sorts of places, the kind that played country music and oldies over the radio. The air smelled of home cooking and a wood fire. Back then, he’d thought the stuffed bear was cool, the music loud enough and the food almost as good as his mom’s.

  And he still did.

  As kids, the Steele pack had ordered off the Three Polar Bears menu. He’d taught his younger siblings to read their first words from that menu, even though they always ordered the same thing: reindeer sausage, eggs and massive stacks of pancakes served with wild berry syrup.