had been placed at the perfect angle for Marshall to view the nearby mountains and a portion of the ski slope. At this time in the summer, it wasn’t rare for him to look up from his paperwork to see elk or mule deer grazing along the slopes.
Yes, it was a cushy job. One that Marshall had never dreamed of having. At least not while he’d been trudging through medical school, burning the midnight oil over anatomy books while his friends were out partying.
When Marshall had finally received his doctorate, he’d come home and taken a job at Thunder Canyon General Hospital. At the time some of his friends had wondered about his choice. They had all continually reminded him that his specialty in sports medicine could possibly open up big doors for him. Wouldn’t he like to work for a major league team in baseball or the NFL where he could make piles of money?
Marshall would be the first to admit that he liked money and he’d gone into the medical profession believing it was a way to make a fortune without breaking his back. But he hadn’t necessarily had his eye on a job that would take him away from his hometown.
By the time he’d finished medical school and his internship, he’d been too homesick to even consider going off to some major city on the East or West Coast to look for a job. Instead, he’d returned to Thunder Canyon, never dreaming that his hometown was about to undergo a sudden and drastic change.
A little over two years ago the discovery of gold at the Queen of Hearts mine had quickly changed the whole area. Businesses, mostly catering to tourists, were sprouting up in Thunder Canyon like daffodils in springtime. The resort, which had started out as a single lodge with a ski slope, had expanded to an upscale, year-round tourist attraction with all sorts of indoor and outdoor enticements for the young and old. And the resort was continuing to build and expand. Under the management of Marshall’s longtime buddy Grant Clifton, the recreational hot spot had become a gold mine itself. And Marshall was definitely reaping part of the rewards.
This morning, as soon as he’d entered his office, his assistant Ruthann had placed a steaming cup of coffee along with a plate of buttered croissants on his desk. The woman had been a registered nurse for nearly thirty years and three years ago had just settled into retirement when her husband suddenly died of a heart attack. The tragedy had put her in financial straits and when Marshall had heard she’d needed a job, he’d decided she’d be perfect as his assistant.
Now after a year of working with her, he realized he’d been more than right about the woman. She was an excellent nurse with plenty of experience, plus he didn’t have to worry about her ogling him as something to take home to meet mother. In fact, in her early fifties, Ruthann was more like a mother to him than an assistant.
“Surprise, surprise. You actually have three patients this morning,” she said with dry amusement as she watched him chomp into one of the croissants. “Any clue as to when you’d like to see them?”
“Are any of them critical?” he asked, even though he knew if any patient had arrived with serious injuries, Ruthann wouldn’t be standing around gabbing.
“A sprained ankle, a cut knee and a jammed finger. I think the finger case is just a ruse to see you. She’s young and blond and drenched with designer perfume.”
“What a suspicious mind you have, Ruthie,” he scolded playfully.
Her laugh was mocking. “I see the sort of games that go on in this infirmary. Frankly, it amazes me how brazen women can be nowadays when it comes to you men.”
The memory of Mia Smith’s aloof, even shy behavior toward him yesterday had been something entirely different from the sort of women Ruthann was describing. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t get the heiress out of his mind.
“Okay, Ruthie, I’ll forget my breakfast and go see if Ms. Blonde really has a finger problem.”
The petite woman with short red hair and a face full of freckles snorted with playful sarcasm. “That’s no way for a doctor to eat.”
Grinning, he retorted, “Then why did you put it here for me?”
“Because I knew you’d sleep instead of get out of bed and make yourself breakfast.”
Marshall shook a finger at her. “I’ll have you know I was up early this morning. I just didn’t make breakfast because I was chasing Leroy halfway down the mountain. He dug a hole last night beneath the backyard fence. Guess he was mad at me for not taking him hiking yesterday.”
Marshall’s Australian blue heeler was often so adept at understanding his master that it was downright eerie. No matter how he tried, Marshall couldn’t fool the dog.
“You went hiking? I thought you were going to help your dad paint that workshed of his.”
Shaking his head, Marshall wiped bread crumbs from his fingers and picked up the three files Ruthann had placed in front of them. Since they all belonged to current guests of the lodge, each of the manila folders held only a single sheet inside them. Being a doctor at a place where people resided for only a few days or weeks didn’t allow the opportunity to make longtime patients. Temperature and blood-pressure readings didn’t tell him much about a person. But that was okay with Marshall. He’d never set out to be one of those kind family doctors who knew all the townsfolk by name, made sure they kept all their routine checkups and often served as their counselor and therapist. That sort of doctoring took commitment and he was too busy enjoying himself in other ways to chain himself to an office.
“He and Mom had to do something with some friends—something about an anniversary celebration. We’ve planned the painting day for another time.”
He rose to his feet, a signal to Ruthann that it was time for them to get to work. As they walked to the door, he said casually, “I met the heiress yesterday.”
Pausing, Ruthann twisted her head around to give him a bemused look. “The heiress,” she repeated blankly. “What are you talking about?”
He rolled his eyes. Normally Ruthann was the one who kept him up on resort guests. He couldn’t believe she was unaware of Mia Smith.
“The heiress. You know, that black-haired beauty that everyone has been talking about. The one that’s always alone.”
Ruthann’s brows suddenly lifted with dawning. “Oh, that one. I didn’t realize she was an heiress. Where’d you get that information?”
“Well, I don’t know for a fact that she’s an heiress. Grant was the one who insinuated that she must be from a rich family. She’s been here more than two weeks now. Only a person with money to spare could afford that much time at a luxury resort. He said she rented a safety deposit box for her jewels, too.”
“Grant! Isn’t he supposed to be engaged to Stephanie? What’s he doing gossiping about a female guest?”
Marshall sighed. Yep, Ruthann was just like a mother, he decided, maybe worse. “Don’t go jumping to the wrong conclusions. I was the one asking Grant about Mia Smith.”
Ruthann shot him a frown of disgust. “I should have guessed.” She clucked her tongue in a disapproving way. “A grown man, a doctor at that, prying for information about a woman you don’t know from Adam. Shame on you, Marshall Cates. Now what was she like?”
Marshall laughed at the nurse’s abrupt turnaround on the sins of gossiping. “Cool. Very cool,” he told her. “But as pretty as the rising
