The Dakota Man (6 page)

On the surface, the conversation had all been so casual and mundane. But beneath the surface, Maggie’s senses had been bombarded by silent messages.

Without a word, or a move out of line, Mitch had transmitted his desire, his intentions. He
wanted her, in the most basic way a man wanted a woman.

It was scary…yet excitingly so.

Needing a few precious seconds to collect herself, Maggie stood silent, inches outside Mitch’s door, drawing deep, calming breaths into her oxygen-starved body.

Raising one hand, she stared numbly at the tremor in her fingers. She was trembling inside, too, trembling and…

Again Maggie’s breath caught in her throat. She was trembling and aching, tight and hot and moist in the sensitive heart of her femininity.

She wanted him.

The realization battered its way through the barrier of Maggie’s self-constructed denial. She had wanted him from the moment she walked into his office that first day and looked into his eyes to feel the power of his masculine attraction to her.

Forewarned by the woman in the restaurant that Mitch Grainger was tough, hard as bedrock, she had been prepared to dislike him on sight. And Maggie had told herself repeatedly over the ensuing days that she had disliked him. She had spent the weekend avoiding the truth that, from
that first moment, she had felt irrevocably drawn to him.

How had it happened? Why had it happened? Maggie asked herself, bewildered by her uncharacteristic response to him. She had believed herself sorely lacking in sensuality. She didn’t even particularly like sex, had never experienced anything remotely similar to joyous ecstasy while engaged in the act of lovemaking.

Still, her body pulsated with a hollow, aching desire to be one with Mitch Grainger.

What in the world was she going to do? Maggie’s first impulse was to bolt, not only from the office, but from the building, straight to the apartment to gather her stuff and hightail it out of Deadwood.

With trembling fingers, Maggie plucked her handbag from the corner of Karla’s desk, where she had placed it before entering Mitch’s office with his lunch. On shaky legs, she took a step toward the door, and freedom.

“Oh, Maggie,” Karla exclaimed on a short laugh, stopping Maggie in her tracks. “I didn’t hear you come out of Mitch’s office.” Her smile gave way to a frown. “You look a little upset. Aren’t you feeling well?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Maggie said, raking her
mind for an excuse, any excuse. “I just need to go to the rest room,” she improvised.

“Oh…” Karla giggled. “I know the feeling.” She flicked a hand at the door. “So…go, you know where it is.”

Maggie was through the door like a shot, nearly colliding with Frank, one of the guards, and another man who were right outside. “Oh, excuse me, Frank,” she said, feeling foolish as she circled him and the other man. “I’m kind of in a hurry.”

Frank chuckled. “Nature calling, huh?”

“Afraid so,” she said, her face growing warm with embarrassment. “Too much coffee,” she explained, continuing along the hallway to the door marked Women.

Once inside, Maggie slumped back against the door, her pulse racing, her breathing erratic, her body trembling. Staring straight ahead, she was shocked at the sight of her stark reflection in the long mirror above the marble-topped line of sinks.

Startled to her senses by her own pale, distressed image, Maggie drew a deep breath and stiffened her spine. Eyes narrowing, she moved closer to the mirror.

This is nuts, she thought, glaring at her
reflection. You’re reacting like a twittery teen at the prospect of her first real date.

But, what to do about it? About Mitch?

The impulse to run swept over her again. Exerting every atom of willpower she possessed, Maggie quashed the thought out of existence.

Damned if she would run, she lectured herself. She had been running for months, only to learn, finally, that she couldn’t run from herself. Her anger, her uncertainties were always with her.

Well, she had decided to stop running, hadn’t she? Maggie reminded herself. She had settled into the apartment, determined to stand firm, to face and deal with whatever life threw at her.

But… Mitch Grainger? Could she deal with him? Or, more important, her wildly sensual reaction to him?

Worrying the questions, Maggie gnawed at her lip, only then noticing she had eaten off her lipstick along with her lunch. She could use some color in her cheeks, as well.

Pull it together, she advised herself, turning on the cold water tap to bathe the still-racing pulse in her wrists. Turning off the tap, she dried her hands with a paper towel, then dabbed at the moist line of perspiration on her brow and at the back of her neck.

Cooler, calmer, feeling more composed, Maggie removed the small makeup pouch from her handbag and set to repairing her appearance.

Minutes later, Maggie critically studied her renewed reflection. She allowed herself a faint smile of satisfaction for the effort at camouflage. The shine on her forehead, nose and chin had been concealed by a few pats of translucent pressed-powder foundation. Her cheeks glowed with healthy-looking, if artificial, color, the muted red applied to her full lips was outlined with a darker hue.

Warpaint on, Maggie squared her shoulders. She would not run. She was done with running. She would stay and face not only Mitch Grainger, but her own overwhelming attraction to him.

Curving her lips into a pleasant smile, Maggie turned and marched back to the office.

M
oving back into the office quietly so as not to disturb Karla, Maggie slipped into a chair in front of the desk. Taking her checkbook from her bag, she wrote out the rental payment on the apartment. She was tearing the check from the book when Karla turned away from the screen to smile at her.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re back,” she said, pushing her chair back and easing out of it. “Now I have to go…urgently.” She grinned. “You can man the phone.”

“Mitch told me to give the rent payment to you,” Maggie said, holding up the check.

Already at the door, Karla said, “Lay it on the desk, I’ll take care of it when I get back.”

Man the phones. Great, what’ll I do if the darn thing rings? What’ll I say? Sorry, but I’m new and don’t know diddly about the business yet? Now, that would make a sterling impression, Maggie thought, grimacing as she moved around the desk and settled into Karla’s chair. She had just decided that her best bet was to pray the phone didn’t ring, when the darn thing did.

Maggie warily eyed the phone through the second ring, then recalling Karla saying that if it wasn’t answered by the third ring Mitch would pick it up, she grabbed the receiver.

“This is Maggie,” she said, in the same manner as Karla always answered.

“Maggie? What happened to Karla?” the caller, a woman, asked in an ultracool, rather haughty tone.

An old hand at dealing with all types of calls, from all types of people, Maggie was less than impressed, but scrupulously professional. “Karla is out of the office at the moment,” she responded pleasantly. “May I help you?”

“Yes,” Ms. Haughty snapped back. “You
may put me through to Mitch.” Not a request; an order.

As if, Maggie thought, raising her eyebrows. “I’ll see if Mr. Grainger can take your call,” she said, ever so sweetly. “Whom shall I say is calling?”

“Natalie Crane.” The woman’s superior tones suggested her name alone opened all doors.

“Please hold.” Witch, Maggie added to herself, immediately hitting the hold button. She waited with calm deliberation for a full thirty seconds before buzzing Mitch.

“Yes, Karla?”

The sound of his voice reactivated the quiver inside Maggie. For an instant, her mind went blank, her throat went dry. Idiot, she chastised herself, clearing her throat.

“Karla?”

“It’s Maggie,” she quickly responded. “Karla’s out of the office.”

He chuckled. “Ladies’ room, huh?”

“Yes.” She had to smile.

“What can I do for you, Maggie?”

The ideas that sprang to her mind didn’t bear thinking about. Shocked at herself, Maggie
rushed into speech. “There’s a call for you on line two…a Ms. Natalie Crane.”

A pause, then he said, “Get rid of her,” in a hard-sounding near growl, before disconnecting.

Oh, my, Maggie thought, so much for opening all doors. Happy to oblige, she released the hold button. “I’m sorry, Ms. Crane, but Mr. Grainger is in conference and can’t take your call right now. May I take a message?”

“Yes,” Ms. Haughty snapped. “Tell him I expect him to return my call as soon as he is out of conference.”

Maggie winced as the receiver was slammed down at the other end of the line. “Well, goodbye to you, too,” she murmured, smiling with satisfaction.

“Who was that?”

Not having heard the office door open, Maggie started at the sound of Karla’s voice. “Oh, Karla,” she said, her smile widening. “Feel better?”

“Umm,” Karla nodded, and grinned. “At least for another hour or so. Who were you talking to?”

“An unpleasant woman named Natalie Crane,” Maggie drawled. “She demanded to speak to Mitch.”

Karla made a face. “The Popsicle Princess.”

“Popsicle Princess?” Maggie laughed. “Why do you call her that?”

Karla laughed with her. “Because she’s cold as ice, and has very little substance.” Her laughter gave way to a frown. “What did Mitch say?”

“He refused to talk to her.” She lowered her voice. “In fact, he told me to get rid of her.”

“I’m not surprised,” Karla confided. “He can be utterly unrelenting at times.”

A terror and unrelenting, Maggie mused, suppressing a shudder. Wonderful. The strange thing was, the shudder was made up of equal parts of trepidation and…and…surely not a sense of fascination and excitement? Of course not, she assured herself, while at the same time speculation whispered through her mind about whether some of those unrelenting times might occur when he was in bed, with a woman. More to the point, was Natalie Crane one such woman?

Although Maggie tried to contain her curiosity, she had to ask, “And he’s unrelenting with this particular woman?”

“Yes.” Karla sighed. “She’s called here several times, but he absolutely refuses to speak to her.”

Unrelenting indeed, Maggie mused, her curiosity unanswered by Karla’s response. But, telling herself it was really none of her business, Maggie refrained from questioning Karla further on the subject.

“Is his visitor still in there?”

Jarred from her musings by the question, Maggie blinked. “Visitor?” she repeated, getting up and moving around the desk so Karla could sit down. “He has a visitor?”

“Yes.” Karla nodded, settling into the chair. “Frank brought him in right after you went out.” She frowned. “Didn’t you see them?”

“Oh, yes,” Maggie said, her smile wry. “I nearly ran smack into Frank. But I was in such a rush, I didn’t notice the man with him.”

“You’re kidding,” Karla exclaimed. “Gosh, I’d have taken notice of him in a crowded room.”

Maggie laughed. “Good-looking, huh?”

“I’ll say.” Karla heaved a dramatic, exaggerated sigh and placed a hand on her chest. “Be still, my heart.”

“Wow,” Maggie said, playing along with the fun. “I can’t wait to see…” She broke off when the sound of men’s voices preceded the opening of Mitch’s door.

The man who emerged from the office ahead of Mitch was good-looking, tall and lean, but the sight of him didn’t set Maggie’s heart to fluttering. That feat was accomplished by Mitch, coming to a halt in the doorway, his silvered eyes piercing hers before shifting to Karla.

Mitch introduced the man as Ben Daniels, an old friend of the Grainger family. As greetings and handshakes were exchanged, Maggie couldn’t help but notice the flare of keen awareness in Ben’s eyes each time he looked at Karla.

Interesting, Maggie thought. She wondered if Ben’s attention was personal in nature or mere curiosity at Karla’s obvious pregnancy and equally obvious lack of a wedding ring.

“Karla, Ben will be in town a couple of weeks on vacation,” Mitch said. “I told him you had some brochures for the local attractions you could give him.”

“Oh, sure, have a seat,” she invited, tearing her gaze from the man to reach for the bottom desk drawer.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Ben said, lowering his long frame into one of the chairs in front of her desk.

“I’m going to get back to work, Ben,” Mitch said. “Stop by anytime, and good luck at the
tables.” A slow grin curled his lips, and Maggie’s toes. “Except mine, of course.” With a casual wave of his hand, he turned away.

Beginning to feel like the third wheel on a bicycle, Maggie moved to go to the small table she had used the previous week to fill out the job application.

“Oh, Maggie, is there any coffee left?” Mitch asked, turning back into the doorway.

“Yes.” Maggie glanced at the pot, noting that it had been sitting, with the warmer plate on, since that morning. “But it must be bitter by now,” she added. “Would you like me to make a fresh pot?”

“Yes…if you don’t mind?” His tone and one arched brow had a sardonic cast.

“Not at all,” Maggie said.

“Thank you.” He again turned from the door.

“You’re welcome.” Crossing to the coffee-maker, Maggie could hear Karla explaining to Ben Daniels the self-explanatory information contained in several different brochures.

The two were still discussing the pros and cons of the various sights of interest when, a few minutes later, Maggie carried a fresh cup of coffee into Mitch’s office.

“That smells good, thank you,” Mitch said as
she set the cup close to hand on his desk. Inner amusement gave his gray eyes a teasing glimmer. “But I miss the caffeine kick.”

Maggie laughed aloud. “I know what you mean. I fortified myself with two cups of the real thing at lunch.”

“Lucky you. I guess that’s what I should have done.” He took a careful sip. “But this’ll do.”

Taking that as a dismissal, Maggie nodded and turned to leave. “If you want a refill just…” she began, breaking off when she suddenly remembered the earlier call. “Oh, yes,” she said, turning back to face him. “Ms. Crane left a message requesting you return her call.”

In the process of taking another sip of coffee, Mitch muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a suggestion as to what Ms. Crane could do to herself.

“I beg your pardon?” Maggie said, positive she had not heard him correctly.

“Never mind.” The glimmer in Mitch’s eyes took on a devilish glint. “I really don’t think you’d want to hear the remark repeated. I wouldn’t want to shock your delicate sensibilities.”

So, she hadn’t misheard him, Maggie thought,
giving him a droll look, and a dry-voiced response. “I suspect I’ve heard worse.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, around the rim of the cup he’d raised to his mouth. He swallowed deeply and held the cup out. “Did you mention something about a refill?”

“Yes.” Stepping forward, she reached for the cup. The tips of her fingers brushed the backs of his. The brief touch of his skin against hers caused a prickling sensation. It took all Maggie’s will to keep from pulling her hand back, out of harm’s way. “I’ll…er…be back in a minute,” she said, grasping the cup and hurrying from the room.

Maybe it was her imagination, but Maggie could have sworn she heard the rich sound of his muffled laughter.

To her surprise, Karla and Ben were still deep in conversation. Moving quietly, Maggie crossed to the coffeemaker and refilled Mitch’s cup. To her amusement, neither Karla nor Ben appeared to take notice of her as she returned to Mitch’s office.

Once again, Maggie walked to his desk and set the cup close to hand, her spine tingling in response to the intentness of his steady gaze monitoring her every step.

Damn, how was it that this man could make her feel all nervy and quivery just by looking at her? Maggie wondered, steeling herself to meet and hold his consuming stare.

“Thank you.”

The low, sexy sound of his voice shot adrenaline into her system. “You’re welcome,” she replied, despairing her own breathy, whispery tones. “Will there be anything else?”

“Yes.” He smiled, slowly, sensuously, sending a silent message that raised the short hairs at her nape. Picking up a sheaf of papers, he held them out to her. “This batch of correspondence requires only a general form-letter response. Karla will show you how it’s done.”

Wonder of wonders, a boss who’ll answer the phone and sift through the correspondence, Maggie thought, careful not to touch him as she took the papers.

Noting her reluctance to so much as brush his fingers with her own, Mitch’s eyes danced with deviltry.

Torn between annoyance and amusement, Maggie beat a hasty retreat. This time she was certain she heard his soft laughter following in her wake.

Shivering with sensitive awareness, of herself
as a woman, of Mitch as a man in pursuit, Maggie breathed a sigh of relief as she shut his door behind her.

Fortunately, Karla didn’t hear or even see her. Alone now in the office, the pregnant woman sat still as a stone, staring into space, a bemused expression on her pretty face.

Maggie moved to the side of the desk. “Karla?”

“Oh, Maggie.” Karla blinked and blushed.

“You look strange,” Maggie said with concern. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes…” she said, her cheeks glowing with color. “Yes, I’m fine. Really.” She laughed. “Ben’s invited the two of us to dinner. Please say you’ll go.”

“Well, of course I’ll go, but…”

“I think he’s terrific,” Karla quickly added. She glanced down at her protruding belly and sighed, her color fading. “And I believe he’s interested in you.”

Maggie couldn’t help smiling at the very idea. It had been obvious to her that Ben had taken an immediate shine to Karla. “I seriously doubt that,” she said. “He barely looked at me. Perhaps he would just like some feminine
company,” she suggested. “Since he’s here on his own.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Karla agreed, brightening. “He’s so nice, soft-spoken and gentle.”

“He’s a hellion,” Mitch said with hard-voiced conviction.

Neither woman had heard him open his door. Maggie jumped. Karla squealed in shocked surprise.

“Sorry if I startled you,” he apologized, while sounding not a bit sorry.

“That was a terrible thing to say about Ben,” Karla reproached him, her eyes shadowed with disappointment. “I thought you said he was a family friend.”

“He is, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was always a hellion and a devil with the ladies,” Mitch retorted. “Though I will admit that Justin claims Ben has changed his ways the past few years.”

“Justin?” Maggie asked, frowning at the unfamiliar name, although it was really none of her business.

“Justin Grainger.” Karla supplied the answer. “Mitch’s brother. He runs the family horse ranch in Montana.”

“Ben works for Justin,” Mitch added.

“Okay, I’ve got the picture,” Maggie said, puzzled by the whole conversation, though she did have some suspicions. “But why did you want us to know about Ben’s reputation?”

Mitch favored her with a hard stare. “I overheard Karla say he had invited the two of you to dinner.”

Bingo. Maggie arched a brow. “So?”

His eyes narrowed. “I just thought you should know that he has a reputation so far as women are concerned.”

“It’s only for dinner, Mitch,” Karla protested, her dejected tone a clear indication to Maggie that if he said she shouldn’t go, she wouldn’t.

Like hell, Maggie thought. There was no way she was going to allow Mitch to dictate to either her or Karla as to how and with whom they spent their free time.