run free for a while and I’m going to scratch it.”
“But you must have some idea where you’re going,” Hannah persisted, always the one for detail.
“No.” Maggie shrugged. “Who knows, maybe I’ll wind up in Nebraska.”
Two
Three months later
The redhead knocked the breath out of him. A jolt of energy, physical and sexual in nature, made the body-blow a double whammy.
Mitch was both shocked and confused by his reaction to the woman Karla ushered into his office. It certainly wasn’t that she was a stunning beauty; she wasn’t. Oh, it wasn’t that she was not attractive; she most definitely was, very attractive. But he knew many attractive and even a few stunning women, and yet he had never experienced such a strong and immediate response to any one of them.
Strange.
Baffled, yet careful not to reveal his condition, Mitch studied the woman as she crossed the room to his desk. On closer inspection, one might even concede she possessed a particular beauty…if one had a weakness for tall, slender women with creamy skin, a wide mouth with full lips, slightly slanted forest-glen-green eyes and long, thick hair of a deep shade of flaming red.
Apparently, Mitch wryly concluded, he did have such a previously unrecognized weakness.
At least, his knees felt a little weak; he felt the tremor in them when she drew closer.
Up close, she looked even better…damn the luck.
But, one thing was for certain, Mitch mused, she sure as hell hadn’t dressed to make an impression. Her casual attire made a silent declaration of her utter disregard for conventional, or his personal, opinion.
She came to a stop next to a chair in front of his desk.
Mitch came to his senses.
Cursing his uncharacteristic distraction, he made a show of perusing her application.
“Ms. Reynolds?” Raising his gaze from the papers in his hand, he offered her a faint smile.
“Yes.” Her attractive voice was soft, modulated, neutral, her return smile a pale reflection of his own.
He leaned forward over his desk and extended his right hand. “Mitch Grainger,” he said, amazed by the tingling sensation caused by the touch of her palm to his in the brief handshake. “Have a seat.” He flicked the still-tingling hand at the chair beside her.
“Thank you.” With what appeared to be relaxed and effortless grace, she stepped in front of the chair and lowered herself into it. Settled, she met his direct stare with calm patience.
Watch it, Grainger, Mitch advised himself. This is one woman determined not to be intimidated.
He arched a brow. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, while I give your application a quick once-over?”
She deigned to nod her permission.
Cool? Mitch speculated, unlocking his gaze from the brilliant green of hers to skim the application. Or was she, like Natalie Crane, just plain glacier-cold, through and through?
To his astonishment, after the fiasco of his engagement, Mitch found himself anticipating the opportunity to discover the answers to his questions about this particular woman.
Speed-reading the forms, Mitch quickly concurred with Karla’s enthusiastic opinion; Maggie Reynolds’s credentials were very impressive. A fact that had been pleasing to them both as Karla had been thus far unsuccessful in finding a suitable replacement.
Lifting his head, Mitch tested her with a piercing stare and his most forbidding tones. “You can produce references to confirm the information provided?”
“Not at hand,” she said, her voice as cool and unruffled as her demeanor. “But I can obtain them.”
He nodded; he had expected no less. “You appear to be well qualified for this position,” he admitted, unfamiliar excitement quickening inside him at the idea of her working for him, at his beck and call, five days a week. But his hidebound sense of honor insisted he be completely honest. “In fact, you are overqualified. A bigger city would offer you much better opportunities for corporate advancement.”
She smiled.
His blood pressure rose a notch.
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “But, while I appreciate your candor, and advice, I’ll pass on it.”
Too cool, Mitch reiterated…and just a hint of condescension. The woman had guts to spare; not many dared to condescend to him.
“Why?” He shot the question at her.
She didn’t shoot back. Then again, maybe she did, only she fired with a flashing, mind-bending smile.
Mitch felt the hit…and rather enjoyed it.
“As I explained to your assistant, and as my application attests, I’ve been there, done that,” she said. “I’m tired of the struggle.” She shrugged. “I suppose you might say my edge got dull.”
Mitch wouldn’t have said there was a damn thing dull about her. At any rate, he wasn’t prepared to say it to her, not at this point of their association. And, for some reason, or quirk in his own nature, he was determined on their having an association.
“I see” was all he would say.
“Besides,” she continued, “I like the look of this town, the Old West ambience. It’s quaint.”
Quaint. Mitch nodded. It was that. “When did you arrive? Have you seen much of the town?” He had to smile. “Not that there’s much to see.”
“I…er, strolled around this morning,” she answered, her hesitancy and obvious reluctance revealing her first signs of uncertainty.
Mitch decided to probe for the reason for her reticence. “You didn’t take a ride on the Deadwood Trolley?”
She shook her head, setting her hair swaying around her shoulders like living flames…and kicking his imagination into high gear.
“No.” Her full, tempting lips curved into a faint smile; his imagination soared off the gauge. “My father always said that shoe-leather express was the best way to see any city,” she explained. “I can ride the trolley another day.”
As fascinated as Mitch surely was by her mouth, he didn’t miss the fact that she had answered only part of his two-part question. Naturally, he wondered why.
“And when did you say you arrived?” he asked, with gentle persistence.
A spark flared to life in the depths of her fabulous green eyes. Annoyance, anger? Mitch mused.
“I didn’t say.” Her voice held an edge.
Good, Mitch thought. He wanted her
