“Ready for coffee, Mitch?” she asked.
“Yes, Karla. Thank you.”
Mitch was beginning to absorb the data on the sheet when Karla entered the room. He raised his head to smile and again thank her, only it wasn’t Karla, it was Maggie crossing to his desk, a steaming cup in her hand.
“Good morning,” he greeted her, slightly amazed by the cool, even tenor of his voice, considering the zing of intense awareness that shot through him.
This morning, Maggie definitely had dressed to impress; at least, her appearance impressed
him. Her glorious mass of red hair had been tamed, smoothed back, away from her face. Her pin-striped navy suit was businesslike and smart, the jacket tailored, the skirt not too short, not too long. Beneath it she wore… What? All Mitch could see in the open vee of her buttoned jacket was skin, pale skin, as soft and creamy-looking as her face.
He was nearly undone by the sight of her.
“Good morning.” She smiled.
Mitch had to fight against the urge to jump from his chair, leap over the desk, take her in his arms and claim her smile with his mouth.
Craziness. Pure craziness.
“Where do you want this?”
“Wherever.” Coming to his senses, he motioned for her to set the cup anywhere on the desktop.
Maggie bent to set the cup near to hand and Mitch caught a brief glimpse of the shadowed valley between her breasts revealed by the slight gap in the jacket lapels.
Moisture rushed to his mouth. Heat pooled in his loins. Mitch told himself he was in big trouble.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” Her voice was too cool, too composed. It rankled him.
“Mitch,” he said with firm determination, wanting to hear his name from her lips.
She blinked…with patently contrived surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
Sure you do, Mitch thought, feeling that exciting sense of challenge surge through him.
“I prefer working on a first-name basis… Maggie.”
“But… I… I just started today,” she said, as if that said it all.
Mitch cocked an eyebrow. “Your name will change tomorrow, or the next day, or next week?”
“Of course not.” Her gorgeous green eyes glittered, shot fiery sparks at him.
Mitch loved it. “Neither will mine,” he pointed out in tones designed to add fuel to her fire. “You’ll still be Maggie. I’ll still be Mitch.”
She narrowed her eyes. He fought an impulsive bark of laughter. Oh, yeah, they were going to clash, and he was going to enjoy every minute of it.
“If you insist… Mitch,” she said through gritted, sparkling white teeth.
His name from her lips hadn’t had quite the sound he had wanted to hear, but, hey, Mitch told himself, anything was better than nothing.
Any concession from her, however slight and reluctantly given, was a win.
“I do insist,” he drawled, wondering at the excitement shimmering through him over what was in reality such an inconsequential exchange.
She heaved a sigh, conveying impatience. The deliberate action lifted her breasts into prominence…and Mitch’s excitement level to uncomfortable heights. He swallowed a groan of combined frustration and self-ridicule.
Never, never had he experienced anything remotely similar to the feelings this woman so effortlessly stirred in him. It was damned annoying.
“Will there be anything else?” she repeated, minus the formal address, and his name.
“Just one other thing,” he said, plucking another sheet of paper from beneath the printout. “I faxed your former employer Friday for confirmation of your references.” He glanced down at the piece of paper. “I received this faxed reply less than an hour ago.”
“And?” she asked.
Leaning back in his chair, Mitch raised his head to meet her steady, confident regard. “Confirmation in spades,” he said. “One might even say a rave review.”
Maggie inclined her head. “Thank you.” Though her tone was even, bare of so much as a hint of smugness, her eyes glittered with the gleam of justification.
Mitch allowed her the moment of self-satisfaction, for he had harbored some doubt about the veracity of her credentials, and the verification of them proved she had earned it. Then, the moment over, he moved his hand, just enough to rattle the paper, and threw her a curve.
“Along with the superlatives, your former employer expressed his disappointment, surprise and bafflement at your sudden decision to leave the company.” Watching her closely for any reaction, he caught the slight stiffening of her body, the quick alertness in her eyes. “I must confess to my own share of curiosity as to your reasons.”
“I believe I’ve already explained,” Maggie said, her voice tight, militant.
“Ah, yes,” Mitch murmured, thrilling to the green glare of challenge in her eyes. “Been there, done that.”
“Yes.” Her reply came close to a hiss.
There was more to it than that. Mitch knew it as sure as he knew that winter brought snow to the Dakotas. Too much time had elapsed
between the date she had left Philadelphia and when she had arrived in Deadwood. His gut feeling was that Maggie was on the run from something…or someone. He opted for the someone, and that the someone was a man.
“Will there be anything else… Mitch?” she repeated for the third time, her tone now hard, her eyes as sharp as shards of green glass.
Cancel any doubts, Mitch thought. It had to have been a man. If it were anything else, something unsavory or illegal, Maggie would be on the defensive, but she wasn’t. Just the opposite, in fact. Maggie was quick to go on the offensive, cool, collected and defiant.
Magnificent.
While Mitch itched to plumb the depths of her defiance, he decided to give her a break and back off for a spell. Besides, if he was a betting man, he’d bet the casino that should he push too hard, she’d shove back, just as hard, very likely with a charge of employer harassment.
The thought made him smile.
Maggie narrowed her eyes.
“You’re satisfied with the apartment?” The change of subject caught her off guard, as he had figured it would. She blinked again, drawing his
attention to her eyelashes, her long, lush eyelashes. “Everything in working order?”
“Yes, everything works.” She nodded. “And I’m completely satisfied with it.” She jerked, as if having just remembered something important, and made to turn away. “If you’ll tell me the rental fee, I’ll go write out a…”
Mitch stopped her with a sharp hand motion. He quoted the figure, then quickly added, “But you can write the check later.”
“All right.” She raised russet eyebrows, and once again repeated, “Will there be anything else?”
“Just one thing,” he said. “After you and Karla have had your coffee, tell her I said she’s to give you a tour of the place, introduce you to the other employees.”
“Yes, si—” she began before catching herself up short. She drew a breath. “Mitch,” she finished, her soft, enticing lips curving into a wry half smile.
That half smile indicated that she might have discerned his intentions…at least so far as testing her mettle. As for his ultimate intent, that of having her soft and warm and eager in his arms, in his bed, he felt positive she hadn’t figured that one out yet.
But she would, and soon. Maggie was quick and bright, she’d reach that conclusion very soon.
Chuckling to himself, Mitch watched the smooth movement of Maggie’s trimly rounded hips and long legs as she crossed to the door. But he was no longer chuckling seconds later, after she had closed the door behind her.
He was aching, in all sorts of uncomfortable places.
Damn thing was, Mitch thought with a sense of both amusement and amazement, he was enjoying the ache, and looking forward to more of the same.
Oh, yeah, he was in big trouble.
H
e had been baiting her. From their very first meeting, Mitch Grainger had been baiting her.
But… Why?
The question left Maggie in an emotional pickle; she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or curse. Never had she dealt with a man so darn confusing. On one hand, Mitch Grainger was arrogant, imperious and irritatingly confident and self-contained. On the other hand…
Come to think of it, what was on the other hand—other than the fact that he was obviously intelligent, attractive as the devil, and exuded
sheer masculine sexual magnetism? Maggie mocked herself, uncertain exactly what it was about him that sparked her sense of humor.
The man was absolutely impossible, she thought, smiling at Karla as she left Mitch Grainger’s office.
Karla returned Maggie’s smile with a frown. “Everything okay?” she asked anxiously. “You were in there an awfully long time.”
“Everything’s fine,” Maggie said, thinking
coffee, coffee, even without caffeine,
as she made a beeline for the coffee machine. “Mr. Grainger told me he had checked out my references.” She turned to flash a grin. “Said I checked out in spades.”
Karla grinned back. “I just knew you would.” The phone rang. “Have your coffee and a pastry,” she said, waving at the table before snatching the receiver from the cradle and saying brightly, “This is Karla.”
Maggie was munching away happily on an iced cinnamon roll when Karla hung up the phone. It was then she remembered Mitch’s instructions.
“Oh, I almost forgot. No, I did forget.” Grimacing, she paused to take a sip of the hot brew.
“Mr. Grainger said I was to tell you to give me a tour of the place.”
“Oh, good.” Karla laughed. “I was just feeling the need to get up and move around a little.” The phone rang. She rolled her eyes. “We’ll escape as soon as you’re finished.” Reaching for the phone with one hand, she indicated an identification badge like the one she wore with the other hand, and again snatched up the receiver.
They escaped a few minutes later, the badge bearing Maggie’s full name pinned to her lapel.
“From now on, you must wear that at all times in the building,” Karla said.
“Right.” Maggie nodded, then frowned. “Who’ll answer the phone while we’re gone?” she asked, casting a worried look at the closed door to Mitch’s office.
“If I don’t pick up by the third ring, Mitch will,” Karla said, leading the way out of the office.
Wonder of wonders, a C.E.O. who’ll deign to answer his own phone, Maggie thought, unable to recall any one of her previous employers who would do so. If she were out of the front office, even for a quick trip to the rest room, some lesser executive’s secretary was pressed into service.
Why that unimportant tidbit of information about Mitch’s apparent willingness to fend for himself should impress her, Maggie hadn’t a clue—and yet, it did.
Though it nagged at the back of her mind, Maggie had little chance to examine her odd emotional reaction to Mitch’s obvious baiting of her, for Karla began the tour with the first door along the long hallway.
The door led into another set of offices, similar but smaller than Mitch’s and Karla’s. The front office was manned by a young, nice-looking guy named Roger Knolb. Karla introduced him as the assistant to the assistant manager of the casino, one Rafe Santiago. Rafe was second in command to Mitch.
“You’ll have to meet Rafe later,” Karla said, waving to Roger as they left the office. “He works the night shift and doesn’t come in till around five.”
Maggie gave her a puzzled look. “Then why is Roger here now, so early?”
“To handle the regular daytime minutiae,” she explained. “Don’t forget, most of the rest of the business world keeps nine-to-five hours. Rafe spends most of his time down on the casino floor, as Mitch’s eyes, you might say.”
They progressed from one room to the next, the rest rooms, the records office, the security office and the money-counting room, where Karla halted one step inside the door, right next to a keen-eyed security guard. Though Karla gave a brief explanation, it really wasn’t necessary. The procedure was self-explanatory. Maggie observed the activity in awe, never before in her life having seen so much money in one place.
From the second level, they descended to the main floor. As she had on the office floor, Karla introduced Maggie to every employee they encountered. While every one of them was friendly, they also stirred speculation in Maggie, for every one of them, from the pit boss to the bartender, referred to their employer by his given name. Everywhere they went, it was Mitch this and Mitch that, in tones both casual and respectful.
Odder and odder, Maggie mused.
“Is something bothering you?” Karla asked as they made their way to the far side of the casino floor. “You look puzzled about something.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Maggie said, quick to clarify her thoughts. “It’s just…well, it seems
a little unusual to me that all the employees refer to Mr. Grainger by his first name.”
“Oh, that.” Karla laughed. “My understanding is that Mitch has always worked on a first-name basis with his employees. He’s never played the ‘Big Man’ role. And so far as I know, at least most of the employees not only respect him, they genuinely like him.”
“But…doesn’t that easy, casual manner instill the temptation to take advantage?” Maggie asked.
Karla smiled. “With anyone else, it might, probably would. But everyone knows exactly where Mitch stands. He’s fair and generous, but he demands absolute loyalty. You see, he has a thing about trust.” She paused, an odd, fleeting shadow dimming her soft eyes, and she gave a delicate shudder. “But make no mistake, Mitch can be an unholy terror with anyone who breaks his trust.”
How ironic, Maggie thought. The man had a “thing” about trust…whereas she had come to believe that she couldn’t or shouldn’t trust any man.
“Intimidating, huh?” Maggie said, wondering what had caused the brief, sad-looking shadow in Karla’s eyes, her shudder.
“I’ll say.” Karla giggled, her sunny disposition restored. “I was so intimidated by him, I was here a long time before I could bring myself to using his first name, and that was only a couple of months ago.”
A couple of months ago? Maggie thought in astonishment. Then, that could only mean…
She slid a sidelong glance at Karla’s protruding belly. That could only mean she was completely off base in her suspicion that Mitch was the father of Karla’s baby.
Which meant that Mitch’s concern for Karla was that of a concerned and caring friend as well as her employer, and that Maggie had been condemning him without cause.
The feeling of relief that swept through her was bewildering in its intensity. Why she should feel such relief, Maggie couldn’t, or more precisely wouldn’t, examine.
Mentally shying away from any deeper meaning in her startled reaction to Karla’s laughing remark, Maggie told herself she felt relieved simply because her suspicions were laid to rest and would make working with Mitch a lot less stressful.
From the casino floor, they went to the
restaurant where they learned that Mitch had already ordered lunch.
Mitch raised his head at the sound of the outer office door opening, the murmur of feminine voices.
They were back. An anticipatory thrill shot down Mitch’s back, tingling the base of his spine.
She
was back.
He grunted in self-disdain when he caught himself straining to distinguish Maggie’s voice through his closed office door. At that moment, a tap sounded on the wood panel.
Not wanting to take a chance on being caught with his expectations exposed, Mitch lowered his head and fastened his gaze on the balance sheet in front of him.
“Come in,” he said, certain it would be Karla delivering his lunch, hoping it would be Maggie.
The doorknob turned. The door was pushed open. “I have your lunch order from the restaurant upstairs… Mitch.”
Maggie.
Mitch hadn’t had to hear her voice; he had known it was her the minute she stepped into the room. He had felt her presence, felt as well the same explosive sexual-energy attraction
crackling between them he’d felt from the beginning. And she had felt it, too. He could see the awareness of it in her eyes, the infinitesimal quiver of response of her body.
Ruling his expression into a bland mask, Mitch lifted his head. “Thank you, Maggie.”
Collecting the pile of printouts and correspondence, he set it to one side, clearing a portion of his desk. Shoving back his chair, he rose, intending to relieve her of the carryout container and drink cup she was holding.
“Don’t bother,” she said, quickly moving forward to set the containers on the desk. “And you’re welcome,” she continued, standing straight and alert, as if prepared to bolt the instant he told her she could go. But that flash in her eyes, that minute quiver of her body gave her away.
Oh, yeah, Maggie felt that sizzling attraction as sharply as he did, and she didn’t like it. But she would, Mitch promised himself. Eventually, she’d love it, revel in it, every bit as much as he knew he would.
Amused by her wariness, Mitch flicked a hand at the deeply padded chairs in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
Her beautiful green eyes flared with consternation. “But…your lunch will get cold.”
Good try, he thought, silently applauding her. “Doesn’t matter. It’s already cold.”
She frowned.
He relented…a little bit. “I ordered a cold sandwich and a cold drink.” He inclined his head at the closed cardboard container and tall, lidded waxed paper cup on the tray. “So, please, sit down, Maggie.” Though politely phrased, he made it a direct order.
Still she hesitated, uncertainty flickering in her eyes, her expression.
Standing firm, Mitch stared her down—all the way down into the chair placed farthest from him. Conquering an urge to laugh, he reclaimed his seat.
“That’s better.” He arched a brow. “You and Karla have had lunch?”
“Yes.”
Oh, Lord. Her voice sent those fiery fingers girding his hips into overtime. Mitch nodded and cleared his throat. “We can talk while I eat.” His hand moved to hover over the closed container. “If you don’t mind?”
She answered with a quick shake of her head.
He missed the swirl of her glorious red hair,
now confined in a neat plait at the back of her head. Mitch found himself fighting an impulse to leap up, circle the desk, pull the pins anchoring the strands and spear his fingers into the silky-looking russet mass.
His fingers tingled.
Enjoying the sensation, too much, Mitch swallowed a groan of despair. This was crazy, he thought. Never had he experienced this urgency of desire, this need to be one with a particular woman.
Those green eyes were watching him, shadowed by… What? Mitch asked himself, probing those emerald depths. Fear? Confused awareness? Yes, both, he decided.
Knock it off, Grainger, before you scare her away,
he berated himself, wondering what in hell had happened to his normal control.
Flipping open the take-out container, he picked up a triangle of the stacked turkey club sandwich. “Would you like some?” he asked, in what he considered remarkably calm tones, considering his semiarousal and emotional upheaval.
“No, thank you.” A near smile kissed her lips; he envied the smile. “As a matter of fact,
I had a turkey club sandwich for lunch, too. It was very good.”
Too bad, Mitch mused, biting into the layered sandwich. He would have liked watching her eat.
“You wanted to talk?” Maggie raised her eyebrows.
Not really, what he really wanted was to… Down boy, Mitch cautioned himself, feeling fiery fingers dig hungry claws deep into his groin.
Nodding, he finished chewing and swallowed before answering. “Yes. How was your tour of the premises?”
“Interesting.” She gave another half smile, “And a little confusing. And not only the general operation of the business. Karla introduced me to so many of the other employees, all the names ran together. The only ones I remember are the first two, Roger and Rafe, and the last one… Janeen.”
Chewing another bite of the sandwich, Mitch nodded again. “It’ll take a while,” he said, after again swallowing. He washed it down with the cola in the tall cup, trying to think of something else to say to keep her in the office. “You’ll learn the ropes soon enough.”
“I’m sure,” she agreed, then fell silent once more.
“And everything’s okay with the apartment?” Damn, Mitch thought, he was reaching, and he knew it. He had asked her that earlier. “Nothing you need?”
“No, everything’s fine.” Then she frowned. “But about the rental payment…?”
He waved her concern away. “Make the check out to Grainger, Corp. and give it to Karla. She’ll take care of it.”
“All right.” Maggie inched forward on the chair. “Is there anything…”
“No,” he interrupted, giving up—for now. “Tell Karla I’ll have some tapes to be transcribed later, after I’ve finished going through the correspondence.”
Frustrated, Mitch watched Maggie walk out of the office, unaware that, had she quickly turned back, she’d have seen not only the sexual hunger revealed in his silvered gray eyes, but poignant longing, as well.
Quietly closing Mitch’s office door behind her, Maggie was relieved to see Karla busily concentrating on the computer terminal.
Eyes wide with wonder and confusion,
Maggie reflected on those emotional and physical electrically charged minutes she had spent in Mitch’s company. While she had been aware—too aware—of the force field humming between them before, this time the very air surrounding them seemed to have crackled with the power of the magnetic attraction. It seemed that each time she was near him, the voltage increased.
Nothing anywhere near the conflicting sensations she had experienced during those last few minutes had ever happened to her before. She felt so…so strange, so churned up by myriad feelings of apprehension, incipient panic, simmering excitement and sheer, sizzling sensual tension.
Several times, when Mitch’s blatantly passion-fired eyes had pierced hers, as if he were trying to see into the very depths of her mind to her soul, Maggie had literally ceased to breathe, to think.