The Secret Twin. Catherine MannЧитать онлайн книгу.
say it in casual conversation, that lets me know you want to leave. I’ll find an out so you don’t have to make awkward excuses on the spot.”
“Safe word?” Her eyebrows shot upward.
“Bear with me,” he said. “I had this uncle who was a preacher. His wife used to get stuck at long functions and meals. So she came up with a conversational gimmick that let her husband know she needed to leave. Immediately.”
“What was their word?”
“Words. Anchors aweigh. Which is technically two words, but you get the gist.” Stifling a grin, he imagined his aunt working the safe word into their conversation.
A smile twitched at her lips, mesmerizing him. “That’s a strange phrase.”
“It worked.” He enjoyed seeing her lighter hearted. He didn’t want a real relationship, not after his bitter divorce, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying the banter. And she was smoking hot, to boot.
A part of him was hoping she’d say yes to this for more than just reasons related to her family. He couldn’t deny he was drawn to her. And since he was going to be leading this company, he needed to work through the attraction to her sooner rather than later. Issues left unaddressed became distractions.
And she was already a major distraction.
“Okay then. What do you suggest?”
He thought for a moment, his eyes landing on a framed painting of a home with stone figureheads worked into the architecture. “Gargoyle.”
“Gargoyle?” She burst out laughing.
Tension faded from her expression to be replaced by a smile that knocked the air from his lungs. Damn, she was a beautiful woman. Pulling his attention off her delicate features and back on the task at hand, he took heart in making progress with her.
He’d been in business long enough to know when he’d closed the deal. “Do we have an agreement?”
Her eyes narrowed, but her smile didn’t fade. “Just until the next general board meeting.”
“One month,” he said, confident now that he could win her over to extending their time together if needed. For now he’d made major progress. He was going to be able to watch over her. And if she was up to something, he would find out what.
And he had to admit, spending time with her wouldn’t be a hardship in the least. She drew him with everything from her sexy curves to the sweep of her eyelashes when she cast a glance his way... She was definitely a distraction he needed to work out of his system.
“So, this is just pretend?”
“As long as you say so. And if you’re ever uncomfortable, just remember.” He winked, tapping the start button on the elevator. “Gargoyle.”
* * *
Even five hours later, in her new one-bedroom apartment, Breanna’s brain was still reeling from Ward’s surprise proposition. Sure, he was smart, sexy, and powerful, and while all of that drew her in, she’d been holding strong.
Until she’d been knocked off-balance by his surprise sense of humor.
She should have put up more of a fight. Or extracted additional tradeoffs. But she’d been unsettled by being caught in his office, and then unexpectedly seeing her family, all of which had lowered her defenses.
Checking her emails on her phone now, she leaned against the cool counter space. The granite pressed into her skin as she skimmed her inbox to see if any of her clients needed anything. As a virtual shopper for those who were homebound or in need of help, her hours were a little inconsistent. No new emails since she’d checked an hour ago, which meant she could turn her attention back to the blueberry and raspberry muffins she was baking, needing to do something productive since she hadn’t managed to find anything useful on the flash drive yet.
Frustration filled her. She forced herself to focus on the routine of baking. Grounding herself in the moment. Muted light filtered in through the windows, dappling the dark wood floors and small kitchen area.
She was so grateful to have found this space for her time here in Alaska while she sifted through the rubble of her past. Her uncle’s new wife—Felicity Hunt Steele—had offered this space to sublet. Other Steele relatives had suggested Brea stay with them, but the stress of that was more than Brea could wrap her head around.
A chirp of the kitchen timer in the shape of a plump, plucky hen snapped Brea to attention. She grabbed the gold polka-dot oven mitt from the kitchen counter and peeked into the oven. A wave of warmed-berry scent rode the air, escaping through the open oven door. Such a sweet scent. It made her stomach growl in anticipation. A memory flashed through her mind of berry picking with her siblings and parents, of her dad telling her to avoid the white berries, which were poisonous.
She swallowed hard before the past could swamp her with too many recollections at once. The faster they came, the tougher it was to gauge which ones were real.
A dish towel in hand, she pulled the muffins from the pan, one by one. Since she’d shed her disguise as Milla Jones and returned to Alaska last month, she’d been spending controlled amounts of time with her family. Always with others present, including her uncle’s new wife, who was a social worker.
Felicity had even given Brea a list of therapists. Not necessarily to facilitate a reunion. But to make sure she kept a clear head and didn’t get hurt. Brea had called numbers on that list until she found a counselor she was comfortable with, one who could help her.
She wasn’t sure if she would reconcile with her family or not, but she needed some semblance of peace with her past before she could move on with the future. She’d known that on some level when she’d come to Alaska, posing as Milla Jones.
And how did her attraction to Ward play into that? It was a dangerous distraction. She would have to keep a close guard on her hormones around this man.
A rapid knock caused her door to shudder, startling her. Rattling awake other memories she did her best to keep locked up in the corners of her mind.
Her gut clenched with tension. She’d spent so many years in that minimalist, off-the-grid community, she still wasn’t used to having such a cluttered world. She walked from her kitchen, through the living area to the front door. She peered through the keyhole...and sighed with relief.
Felicity stood with Tally Benson, Felicity’s friend and the woman who was dating Marshall Steele. These two were easy company, since they weren’t a part of her past. Brea clicked through all three locks and opened the door.
“Hello,” Felicity said, holding up a basket full of pampering bath items—salts, a loofa and towels. She had a way of taking care of everyone, perhaps something to do with her chosen career as a social worker. “We’ve brought housewarming gifts.”
Tally carried a wicker laundry hamper. “All natural cleaning supplies, just for you.”
While trust was difficult, these two women were the only ones Brea had met since her return whom she felt at least partially comfortable with. Although, her relationship with Tally was still complicated. Tally’s father had been the mechanic who worked on the airplane before the crash. He’d committed suicide because of his guilt over what had happened. No one yet knew the full extent of the details of the crash, and Tally’s father had taken his secrets to the grave. But at least the man’s name offered a place to start searching for answers.
“Thank you so much,” Brea said, touched by their kindness, and a little overwhelmed too, especially with the berry-picking memory still so fresh in her mind. “Um, please come inside.”
Felicity hesitated. “Are you sure we’re not imposing?”
Brea laughed softly. “Of course I’m sure, not that I would turn you away. It is your condo and you’ve been kind enough to sublease it to me for next to nothing.”
“You’ve done me a favor,”