“Glad to know.” He stretched his arms wide as she measured across his chest.
She considered herself a professional. She’d never had a problem with desiring a client before, while on the job.
It was going to be a long month completing her contract.
But this gig would cement her reputation, and it carried the potential to land her more clients of this caliber. She had only herself to depend on—no family, no fat inheritance. Her health was stable for now, but her diabetes had sidelined her before. She needed to build a cushion of savings for emergencies.
Never would she be like her mother, flat broke and alone.
“Mr. Mikkelson, you need—”
“Trystan,” he insisted in that gravelly voice of his, a melodic rumble.
“Trystan,” she conceded. “You need to weigh your words carefully. Less is more, which actually, now that I think about it, should be an easier path for you. Just no impulsive outbursts. It’s easier to add to a statement than to walk back a negative impression.”
“It’s just a fund-raiser. I’ve been attending them my whole life.”
“You’re more than attending now. You’re the figurehead of the company, a company with a president that almost died when he broke his spine in the middle of a major merger.” She reminded him of what he should clearly be keeping top-of-mind but still seemed to disregard. “If you really prefer not to do this, I could talk to your family about one of the Steele siblings taking over the public role—heaven knows there are plenty of them...”
“No, I’ve got this.” He pulled a tight smile. “The fact that there are so damn many of them is just the reason I need to do this. To make sure my mother keeps her equal stake in the company and those Steeles don’t edge her out.”
“I hear you, and I understand your point. But you do know that is exactly the sort of thing you shouldn’t say in public.”
“United front. Got it.” He tapped his temple. “We’re all supposed to ignore the fact that our families have been at war for longer than I can remember. I’m supposed to forget all the times my father called Jack Steele a ruthless crook.”
She leveled a glare at him. “Mr. Mikkelson—”
“Trystan.” His eyes were robin’s-egg blue, a beautiful, vibrant hue in this otherwise stark man. “And yes, I know that’s another thing I’m not supposed to say.”
Those. Eyes.
This. Man.
Heaven help her.
It was going to be a long month.
* * *
All for family.
That’d been Trystan’s motto his whole life. And it was why he stood, albeit begrudgingly, getting a damn makeover.
His clothes shouldn’t matter. He had a business degree and ran a multimillion-dollar ranching operation. All of which he’d accomplished in jeans and dusty boots rather than suits and polished wing tips. But his family’s livelihood was on the line.
He would do whatever it took to stabilize the newly formed Alaska Oil Barons, Inc.
Even if it meant prancing around like some show horse. Even if he hated every second of the posturing.
Although working with Isabeau Waters certainly made the task bearable.
She was a breath of fresh air. And, yeah, she was very easy on the eyes.
Her red hair shone with hints of gold streaking through. It was gathered on one side so that the rest fell over one shoulder. The natural wave swirled into one big curl that tempted him to tangle his fingers through to test the texture. He was a sensual man, a man of the outdoors who experienced life firsthand rather than sitting behind a desk sifting through the details on a computer screen.
Her eyes were the soft blue of his home state’s sky, sparkling and changeable. A deep breath filled him with the scent of her—like the wild irises that bloomed in summer, beautiful and an ironic mix of delicate petals that somehow managed to survive to bloom every year despite the harsh Alaska winters.
He stopped that thought short.
Damn.
Isabeau Waters was making him turn downright poetic.
His gaze turned to the yellow lab staring up at him with inquisitive, chocolate-brown eyes. Though he wanted to fluff the dog’s ears, he refrained because the dog was at work. Still, his soul longed for the simplicity of a canine companion here in this unfamiliar situation.
Understanding animals was easy for him. People? Not so much.
He wanted to be on the ranch, riding a horse or even reviewing inventory spreadsheets. The public scene wasn’t his forte, not like it was for his older brother Chuck. But Chuck’s marriage was on life support, and that relationship was the only thing his older brother valued more than the family business.
Chuck had learned those priorities from their parents, Charles Sr. and Jeannie, a tightly bonded couple until Charles’s death. They’d all feared for Jeannie when her husband died of a heart attack over two years ago. They’d prayed she would find a reason to live.
They just hadn’t expected her reason would be their family’s corporate enemy, Jack Steele.
Trystan had spent his teenage years hearing his father list Jack’s many flaws. And now he and his siblings were all expected to just forget that.
The movement of Isabeau’s slender body trekking over to the desk, her hair swishing, made him forget all about his family’s drama, at least for the moment. She grabbed some binders, flipping to different sections, writing on pages and adding sticky notes. A covert glance over her shoulder, back to him, had his heart pounding.
Why was the most attractive woman he’d met in ages also the person he had to work with? He wanted to flirt with her and take her to dinner instead.
But he would have to give serious thought to the consequences before mixing business and pleasure.
Family always came first.
He’d been adopted by Jeannie and Charles when his own parents had split. His biological parents had married as teens because he was on the way. Their union had been rocky and volatile from the start. After the split, when Trystan was ten,
