everything looks different, he wondered if he was just as shallow as some of the guests he treated. He’d not gone to school for eight years intending to doctor women who’d ripped off nail beds trying to rock climb with false fingernails. But on the other hand, Marshall was making an enormous salary and most days he hardly had to lift a hand to earn it. He’d be crazy to want anything else. Wouldn’t he?
Lizbeth carried the tall glass over to the bar and placed it on a cork coaster before she pushed the frosty drink in front of him.
“Here, since you can’t drink anything alcoholic on the job, maybe this will perk you up.”
“Thanks, beautiful. Remind me to do something for you sometime.” Giving her a wink, he took a sip of the drink, then lifted the stemmed cherry she’d placed on top and popped it into his mouth.
As he chewed the sweet treat, Lizbeth’s brown eyes studied him in a calculating way. “Well, if you really mean that you could take me out to dinner tonight. I’m getting tired of taking home a sack of fast food and eating it in front of the television.”
Marshall chuckled a second time. He doubted Lizbeth ever had to spend a night alone, unless she wanted it that way. Even if she was known as a big flirt, she was pretty, bubbly and enjoyable to be around, the perfect type of woman for Marshall, who didn’t want any sort of clingy hands grabbing hold of him.
“If you’d really like to go out to dinner tonight, then I’m all for it.”
A faint look of surprise crossed her face. “You really mean that?”
Marshall shrugged. He and Lizbeth both knew that neither of them would ever be serious about each other, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy an evening together. Besides, eating dinner with a warm, appreciative female was better than being snubbed by a cool, beautiful heiress.
“Sure,” he answered. “Let’s splurge and eat at the Gallatin Room. The grilled salmon is delicious.”
Lizbeth’s brown eyes were suddenly sparkling and Marshall wondered what it would take to see Mia Smith react to him in such a way.
Damn it, man, forget the woman, Marshall scolded himself. You’ve got plenty of female distraction around here. You don’t need to get hung up on a woman who’s apparently forgotten how to smile.
“Oh, this is great, Marshall! I can wear my new high heels. Just for you,” she added with coy sweetness. “What time shall we meet?”
“When do you get off work?” Marshall asked.
“Six this evening. But I can ready by seven.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you in the lounge at seven-thirty,” he told her. And by then he was going to make damn sure that the winsome Mia Smith was going to be pushed completely out of his thoughts.
Chapter Three
Mia wasn’t at all sure why she’d bothered going out to eat this evening, especially at the Gallatin Room. Before she’d found Janelle, Mia had never been inside a restaurant where the tables were covered with fine linen and the food was served on fragile china. After her father, Will Hanover, had died of a lung disease, she and her mother had been lucky to splurge on burgers and fries at the local fast-food joint. The sort of life she was experiencing here at Thunder Canyon Resort was the sort she could only dream about back then.
Today at the Clip ’N’ Curl, her brief visit with Marti Newmar had reminded her even more of how simple and precious those years on the farm had been with her adoptive parents. Maybe she’d not had much in the way of material things, but she’d been wrapped in the security of her family’s loving arms. Mia had learned at an early age that she was adopted; yet that hadn’t mattered. She’d been a happy girl until her father had died. And then things had gotten tough and she’d made all sorts of wrong choices. She’d begun to believe that money was all it would take to fix everything wrong in her life. Well, now she had it, but she was far from happy.
With a wistful sigh, she realized the Gallatin Room was the sort of restaurant that a woman should visit with her husband or lover. The small table where Mia sat near a wall of plate glass gave a magnificent view of the riding stables and several corrals of beautiful horses. Far beyond, near the valley floor, a river glistened like a ribbon of silver in the moonlight. Yet the pleasant sights couldn’t hold Mia’s attention. Instead she was imagining what it would be like if the handsome Dr. Cates was sitting opposite her, reaching across the fine white linen and clasping her fingers with his.
“Ms. Smith, your steak will be ready in a few minutes. Would you like more wine?”
Mia looked around to see a young waiter hovering at her elbow, willing to jump through hoops, if necessary, to please her. After the first few days at Thunder Canyon Resort, Mia had become aware that some of the male staff seemed to bend over backward in an effort to make her happy. She’d not been fooled into thinking they were at her beck and call because they liked their job. No doubt they’d heard gossip or simply assumed that she was rich. The fact that she was rich, only made her resent their behavior even more.
“Yes, I will take more wine, thank you,” she told him.
The young man filled Mia’s goblet with the dark, fruity wine she’d selected, then eased back from the table. As he moved from her sight, Mia got a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye. Turning her head slightly to the right, she was shocked to see the handsome doctor and a sexy redhead taking their seats several tables over from hers.
Mia stared for a moment, then purposely looked away before either of them could spot her. She’d seen the redhead before, but where?
Recognition hit her almost immediately. She was the bartender here at the lounge. Mia had visited the bar on a few occasions, just to enjoy a cocktail and a change of scenery from the rooms of her cabin. The redhead had always been working behind the bar, but Mia had never seen Dr. Cates there. Were the two of them an item? It certainly appeared that way to Mia. But from what Marti Newmar had told her at the Clip ’N’ Curl earlier today, the man liked women in the plural form. The bartender was probably just one in a long line waiting for a date with Dr. Smooth.
Across the room, at Marshall’s table, he and Lizbeth had ordered and the waiter was pouring chilled Chablis into Lizbeth’s stemmed glass when he looked slightly to the left and spotted the woman. She was sitting alone and, even over the heads of the other diners, Marshall couldn’t mistake the black-haired beauty. It was Mia Smith, wearing a slim pink sheath and black high heels with a strap that fastened around her ankles. Her black hair was swept tightly back from the perfect oval of her face and knotted into an intricate chignon at the back of her head. She was a picture of quiet elegance and Marshall found it hard not to stare.
“Dining here in this posh part of the resort is quite a treat for me, Marshall. You must be feeling generous,” Lizbeth teased.
Jerking his head back to his date, Marshall plastered a smile on his face. Lizbeth was the sort of woman who’d be happy to let a rich man take care of her for the rest of her life. Since it wasn’t going to be him, he could afford to feel generous.
“Maybe I just felt as though I had earned my paycheck today,” he told her.
She laughed. “Oh, Marshall, you’re so funny at times. I hope you never go serious like that brother of yours. He should have been a judge.”
Marshall had three brothers. At thirty, Mitchell was four years younger than him. And then
