The Dakota Man

by Joan Hohl

  “He’s leaving tomorrow morning, should arrive late afternoon or early evening.”

  Mitch shook his head. “That is short notice. Why did you wait so long to call me?”

  Justin laughed. “I laid the law down just a half hour ago. Ben was not happy.”

  “Tough.” Mitch laughed with him. “I’ll see what I can do about the Bullock.”

  “Thanks. Ben’ll contact you when he gets in.”

  They talked for several more minutes, discussing family business, ranching business, casino business.

  “Oh, and Mitch, keep an eye on Ben for me. He seems okay now, but I’d hate to see him go off the rails again,” Justin said before hanging up.

  Wonderful, Mitch thought, frowning at the dead phone receiver. Now he was to play keeper to a thirty-year-old man. Thinking the role had better not interfere with his plans for Maggie Reynolds, he disconnected, punched in the number for the Bullock and secured a room for Ben without a problem.

  Maggie drove Karla to work on Monday morning, as prearranged with Mitch Grainger when he drove Karla home from work the previous Friday afternoon.

  Maggie and Karla had spent so much of the weekend together, their budding friendship had truly blossomed. Which was fortunate, Maggie figured, as her stream of chatter during the drive could be attributed to the easy camaraderie they now shared.

  The nervy, almost queasy feeling had been incrementally growing inside Maggie with each passing day until, this morning, she couldn’t seem to shut up.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  Well, so much for the cover of easy camaraderie, Maggie thought, slanting a quick glance at Karla and seeing her quizzical expression of concern.

  “Oh, sure, I’m fine,” Maggie answered, in forced tones meant to reassure. “I guess I’m a bit nervous.” A bit? Try a bunch, she thought, swallowing an anxiety-induced bubble of self-derisive laughter.

  Karla’s look of concern gave way to a smile. “I suppose that’s understandable, with starting a new job,” she said. “But, trust me, as I told you before, there’s really nothing to be nervous about.”

  Trusting Karla was easy, Maggie thought, managing a smile for the cheery woman. During their gabfest over the weekend, Karla had been open and candid about herself, her life, even her reasons for not telling her parents about her pregnancy. She’d been open about everything—with one exception. Not once had Karla mentioned the circumstances surrounding her pregnancy, or the man who had fathered the child growing inside her.

  So, of course, in light of Maggie’s suspicions as to the identity of that man, and that tingly, almost electrifying sensation she had experienced while in his company, it was trusting Mitch Grainger she had doubts about. The troubling thing was, she didn’t have anything concrete on which to place any of those doubts. All she had were her feelings, the vibes her senses had picked up while she had been in his office.

  Her senses might have been wrong.

  Yeah, and she might win a million-dollar lottery.

  Maggie sighed as she pulled onto the employee parking lot. Crunch time. She’d soon know if she had been wrong, at least so far as that charged atmosphere was concerned.

  “The first day’s always the hardest,” Karla said as she opened the outer office door. “So, the sooner we get started, the sooner it’ll be over.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Maggie agreed, catching the scent of fresh-brewed coffee as she followed Karla into the room. She’d skipped breakfast, and coffee, to allow herself more time to choose just the right clothes to wear—she’d tried on and discarded three perfectly suitable outfits before settling on a favorite skirt suit. The distinctive aroma of coffee set Maggie’s senses clamoring for a strong dose of caffeine.

  Alas, it was not to be. Karla sent them crashing with the information that, not only had their esteemed employer started the coffee—a cause for speculation in itself—it was decaf.

  “Sorry,” Karla said, her smile rueful. “But Mitch insisted we switch to decaffeinated after I told him I was pregnant…he said the caffeine was bad for the baby.”

  Uh-huh, Maggie mused, her suspicions deepening. But she smiled and shrugged. “No problem,” she said. “It wouldn’t hurt me to cut down on the caffeine, either.” Other than to further irritate nerves already jangling like discordant bells.

  “Have a cup,” Karla invited as she headed for the door to the inner office. “And a pastry.” A wave of her hand indicated a selection of Danish pastries and sweet rolls arrayed on a tray next to the coffeemaker.

  Mouth watering, stomach rumbling, Maggie was perusing the goodies on the tray when she heard Karla tap on the door and speak to “the boss.”

  Mitch knew the minute Karla and Maggie entered the outer office. He knew because he had planned it that way, by leaving his own office door open a crack.

  Karla and Maggie were chatting. Mitch caught Karla say something about the first day being the hardest. The statement was certainly true in his case: it was his first day with Maggie in the office, and he was already getting hard.

  Damn fool, Mitch cursed himself, disgusted with his body’s immediate response to the muted sound of her voice, the mere idea of her presence. It had been years, long years, since his body had broken free of his mental control.

  Sitting still, Mitch blanked out the chatter from the other room and drew slow, deep breaths, exerting his considerable willpower over his physical reaction. It required a lot of deep breaths, but he won the battle.

  And not a moment too soon, for he had just returned his attention to the printout sheet on his desk when Karla tapped against his door and pushed it open another inch.

  “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.

  Five

  He 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.