Because she wanted more.
That shouldn’t have been a big deal. It wouldn’t have been if they’d simply met at a party, drawn to one another.
But the couples in their orbit reminded her too well of the problems they faced—a reclusive man, a woman who worked with those in the spotlight, the issues that came with children, and that didn’t even scratch the surface of his convoluted feelings about family and her own anxiety over her father and stalker ex-boyfriend.
None of which she could change. She only had control over one issue and she couldn’t hide from that any longer. Seeing Naomi’s scare with gestational diabetes weighed on Isabeau. She couldn’t ignore her late period any longer, especially not with health concerns of her own.
Once they returned to Anchorage, she would need to see a doctor to check on her diabetes—and find out definitively if she was pregnant.
Ten
Popping a smoked salmon canapé into his mouth at the Wilderness Preservation Initiative Fund-raiser, Trystan nodded as a gray-haired senator rambled on and on and on. Rather than focusing on the fusion of dill, smoked salmon and rye bread, he feigned interest, eyes widening at the appropriate moments. Ever so briefly, he let his gaze slide over the senator’s sagging shoulder to Isabeau, watching her work the room with ease.
Listening well often passed as good conversation as far as the babbler was concerned. So Trystan ate and made all the right noises to keep the senator talking.
Chatting up the senator would increase the program’s success, which was the purpose of tonight. And after the faux pas with the almost oil spill, making sure this initiative gained traction was essential to the company.
So yeah, while he had hours more face time with a slew of exhausting people, this event could make or break the newly merged company’s image.
Shifting in his freshly shined boots—grateful Isabeau had relented on him wearing dress shoes—he smiled at the senator. The formal event called for a tuxedo, which seemed to restrict his range of motion. But Isabeau had picked out the clean-lined article of clothing, telling him he looked sharp.
In truth, he didn’t see it. Isabeau, however, looked enchanting in her fit-and-flare gold gown.
In the crystalline chandelier light, she seemed to be of another time and place. She moved past him, catching his eye. She leaned a slender hand on the champagne-colored tablecloth, complementing the elaborate pale rose centerpiece.
Her strapless dress accented her bare collarbone. Red hair upswept in loose ringlets, mingling with the gold chandelier earrings. And damn. That smile on her perfectly pink lips turned him inside out.
She’d never looked more elegant.
Or more a part of this world.
Memories of their night together still seared through him. Their first encounter in the boathouse had rocked him, no question. But lingering over her, exploring each other? That surpassed anything he’d experienced.
He wanted more time with her, not just hours, but much more. Which he would have if she was pregnant. However, he wanted her to be with him because she wanted that as well, not because a baby tied them to each other.
Despite her anxiety, she worked the room with a glittering smile, Paige keeping close watch. He’d wondered how the attendees at this black tie event would react to the dog. But apparently the addition of service animals must be common enough among this set that no one paid other than passing attention.
Although he imagined it was also a nod to Paige’s excellent training and Isabeau’s seamless handling that allowed the animal to work without creating any sort of distraction.
He also felt somewhat at home here in the opulent penthouse ballroom of the Mikkelson Enterprises building. Unlike the Steeles’ sleek and swanky office tower filled with conference rooms, the Mikkelson structure had a stately, refined presence absent of the contemporary fixation on chrome and clean lines. Both buildings were magnificent, but served vastly different purposes. The key to Alaska Oil Barons’ success would be to use the appropriate location for each situation. When wining and dining needed to happen, the Mikkelson Enterprises ballroom on the top floor was the clear winner. Part of the merger plan involved keeping both properties and capitalizing on the strengths of each one’s appeal.
The harpist and string quartet on a large elevated stage provided a lilting melody, the notes seeming to complement the twinkling boat lights bobbing below in the harbor made visible through the window. A creamy white marble dance floor sported a few well-heeled couples leaning against each other.
Both families had showed up in full force—with spouses and significant others. All doing their part to engage the politicians and social elite. Even the head of their major competitor, Johnson Oil United, had attended. Cal Johnson loomed in the corner, sipping a glass of champagne.
A long shadow stretched over Trystan—the Steele patriarch and his soon-to-be stepfather, Jack Steele. “Senator, do you mind if I have a moment with my future stepson?”
“Of course, of course,” the senator agreed, reaching for another glass of champagne from a silver tray being carried by waitstaff. “Great party, great party,” he said in that conversational way some people had of repeating themselves. “I’m going to double my donation in honor of your incredible recovery from that riding accident.”
Trystan eyed his future stepfather warily. Whatever he had to say must be important to break up a conversation with a political bigwig.
Jack pumped the senator’s hand. “We’re very grateful. Thank you.” He gestured across the room. “I would steer you toward my lovely fiancée, Jeannie, and our media coordinator, Isabeau Waters. You’ll be in good hands.”
The senator clapped Trystan on the shoulder. “Nice job getting the message out, young man. Hope we’ll see more of you.”
With a nod, the man turned in search of Jeannie and Isabeau, Cal Johnson close on his heels. Having the competition on hand this evening could be concerning to some, but Trystan perceived a frustration in Johnson as the man saw the unity and great show of professionalism from the Mikkelson-Steele team.
Trystan
