to put some phone jacks in our sitting room and our bedrooms,” she said. “I’ll consider that a wonderful repayment.”
Doug watched her curiously. “Nobody’s ever wanted a phone in their room before,” he said.
“Oh, come on. Whoever heard of a hotel without phones in the rooms?”
“This isn’t the big city, Maggie. Our guests always use the phone at the end of the hall, or down here in the lobby.”
“But my brother and I will be using two computers, a laptop and fax machine,” Maggie told him. “We need at least four phone jacks and two dedicated lines for e-mail and Internet access, or we can’t stay here.”
“And if I install them, you’ll teach me how to computerize my bookkeeping?”
“My brother’s a novelist.” She looked fully at him, her eyes grave and thoughtful. “He’s at an important point in the book he’s working on, and he needs to be able to write every day.”
“Is he published?”
“His first book comes out in late spring. He’s working on the sequel.”
“And what about you?” Doug asked. “Are you just along to nurse the creative genius, Maggie?”
Her cheeks turned faintly pink, a reaction that he found intriguing.
“Hardly.” She looked back at the screen. “I have work of my own to do.”
“In Crystal Creek?”
“You’ve never heard of networking?” she asked a little evasively. “With a computer modem and a good-quality fax, I could conduct my business from a mountaintop or a desert island.”
“Ah yes, ’tis a brave new world indeed,” he said in a soulful brogue, earning a suspicious glance from his companion.
When she frowned, a tiny vertical line appeared between her delicate eyebrows. Doug wanted to kiss it.
“So,” he asked, getting a firm grip on himself, “why have you and your brother chosen Crystal Creek as your desert island?”
She smiled, causing a dimple to flash briefly in her right cheek. He was even more enchanted.
“Maybe,” she suggested, “I’ve decided to learn the fine art of Texas cuisine.”
“And maybe not,” he said.
But she refused to rise to the bait, and before long they were fully involved again in the business of input commands and program files.
CHAPTER FOUR
DOUG EVANS WAS amazingly quick-witted, with an incisive grasp of new concepts that left her breathless.
“Let’s start putting some of this into practice,” she said at last, trying not to show how impressed she was with him. “Which part of your business would you choose to enter on the main ledger?”
“The pub,” he said without hesitation. “It makes more money than the hotel. It’s a real godsend during slow times like this.”
“And what do you consider the main areas of difficulty in your accounting?”
“Wage deductions and capital cost depreciation,” Doug said. “I’m afraid this old software has cost me a fair amount in taxes over the past few years.”
“You’re probably right.” Maggie frowned at the computer. “Now, if I can just remember where to find the Web site, I’ll be able to download the neatest program for calculating your capital depreciation. It works like magic….”
While she worked, Doug sat nearby and answered her questions until she had all the programs running in different windows. Then he got up and roamed around the lobby, sat for a while on one of the couches and leafed through a magazine, strolled into the back to lock the outside door.
“Come on,” he said at last, pausing by the desk. “You’ve been at it almost two hours, Maggie. Call it a night and have that drink with me.”
“Two hours?” she looked up at him, blinking in surprise. “Really, it’s been that long?”
He chuckled. “You love this, don’t you? I was watching you at that computer and your face was completely absorbed, like someone watching a good movie.”
She smiled and leaned back on the stool, stretching her arms. “You know, it’s really fun. Looking for the right software is like solving a mystery, or going on a treasure hunt.”
“So, are you going to find a treasure for me?”
“Well…” Maggie hesitated. “No promises, now,” she warned, “but I think you might be able to save quite a lot in taxes.”
“How?”
“Things like capital cost allowances, wage deductions and writing off some of the hotel expenses against the profit you make on the bar. This new software will help you with all that.”
He brightened. “If that’s true, I’ll have to raise your wages.”
Maggie laughed and switched off the computer. With his help she stacked the files neatly, then climbed down from the stool and followed him in the direction of the pub, which was called the Tartan Lounge.
Doug Evans had obviously been aiming for an old-world atmosphere in this part of his business, and judging by his casual statement about profits, his neighbors appreciated the effort.
The bar with its rows of colorful, gleaming bottles was topped by a crest that matched the one up in their sitting room. Bright swathes of tartan and crossed swords adorned the other walls, and a fire burned low in the big stone hearth, where Dundee drowsed in the warmth on a folded blanket.
Three young cowboys and their girlfriends were engaged in a lively game of darts, while a group of older couples chatted over cribbage boards in a corner.
The place was warm and welcoming, rich with quiet companionship, a cozy refuge from the winter night.
Doug settled Maggie near the fireplace, then went to the bar and came back with a martini, and a glass of whiskey-and-cream liqueur on ice for her. She looked at it, surprised to find he’d remembered the brief mention of her drink of choice.
Most of the men she encountered these days would have missed that comment, Maggie realized. They were usually too wrapped up in themselves and the impression they were making to pay much attention to a woman’s conversation, even when they found her attractive.
But Doug Evans seemed to be a supremely confident man. He was quiet and considerate, but gave no evidence of being worried about the impression he was making on her.
“You were joking about wages a while ago.” Maggie sipped the excellent liqueur. “And it made me wonder about something.”
“What’s that?” His hard face was highlighted softly by the flames.
Maggie
