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 there were the twins, Matthew and Marlon, who were just twenty-one and trying to finish up their last year of college.
At one time in their young lives both Marshall and Mitchell had walked somewhat on the wild side. And while the two boys had lived on the edge, they’d both loved a passel of ladies and broken more than a few hearts. But age had slowed both of them down, Mitchell especially. He’d founded a farm and ranching equipment business and spent nearly all his time making the place turn big dollars.
“That’s why Mitchell has made a big success of Cates International,” Marshall said to her. “He takes his business seriously. When I’m out on the slopes skiing, he’s usually at work. That’s the difference between him and me.”
Lizbeth playfully wrinkled her nose at him. “What’s the use of money if you can’t have a little fun with it?”
Marshall sipped at the beer he’d ordered, then licked the foam from his lips. He would surely like to ask Mia Smith that question, he thought. But then maybe she was having fun. Maybe being alone was how she liked things.
He looked back to the table where Mia was dining and before he could catch himself he was gazing at her again. At the moment she was eating one slow bite at a time. There was something very sensual in her movements, as though she was a woman who savored each and every taste. Marshall could only imagine what it would feel like to have those lush lips touching him.
“In case you don’t know, her name is Mia Smith.”
Lizbeth’s comment doused him with hot embarrassment and he quickly jerked his attention back to his dining companion.
“You caught me. What can I say, Lizbeth, except that I’m sorry?”
Laughing lightly, she reached over and touched the top of his hand. “Don’t bother. I know when a man considers me just a friend. It might be nice if you looked at me the way you’re looking at her. But you don’t.”
Relief washed through him. Jealous women were hard to handle, especially in a place that required good manners. “Thanks for understanding, Lizbeth,” he said wryly. “I guess I’m pretty transparent, huh?”
“Well, if I knew the Gettysburg address I would have had time enough to recite the whole thing while you were staring at Ms. Smith.”
Shaking his head with a bit of self-disgust, he said, “I’m sorry. It’s just that—well, I met her yesterday. On the mountain while I was hiking.”
Intrigued by this morsel of news, Lizbeth leaned forward. “Really? Did you exchange words with the woman?”
The two of them had exchanged words, glances, even touches, but apparently none of it had affected Mia Smith the way it had Marshall. She’d walked away from him as though he were no more than a servant.
“A few.”
“That’s all? Just a few?”
“The lady is cool, Lizbeth. She—uh—wasn’t interested in getting to know me.”
Picking up her wineglass, Lizbeth laughed, which only caused the frown on Marshall’s face to deepen. “That’s hard to believe. I’ve talked with her at the bar and she seemed friendly to me.”
Now it was Marshall’s turn to stare with open curiosity at Lizbeth. “You know the woman?”
Shrugging, Lizbeth said, “She comes in the bar fairly often. Drinks a piña colada with only a dash of alcohol.”
“Does she ever have anyone with her?”
“No. She’s always alone,” Lizbeth answered. “Can’t figure it, can you? The lady is beautiful. Men would swoon at her feet, but apparently she won’t let them. Maybe you ought to ask her for a date. If anyone can change her tune about the opposite sex, it would be you, dear Marshall.”
He chuckled with disbelief. “Me? Not hardly. I offered to buy her a drink. She pretty much gave me the cold shoulder.”
“Maybe you should try again. That is—if you’re really interested in the woman.”
Unable to stop himself, Marshall glanced over at Mia’s table. At the moment she was staring pensively out the window as though she were seeking something in the starlit sky.
“Frankly, I wish I wasn’t interested. I have a feeling the lady is trouble. She doesn’t come across as the other rich guests around here. She’s different.”
Lizbeth smiled coyly. “And maybe that’s why you can’t get her off your mind. Because she is different.”
He thoughtfully studied his date. “Hmm. Maybe you’re right. And maybe once I got to know her, I’d find out she’s not my type at all. Then I could safely cross her off my list.”
Lizbeth let out a knowing little laugh. “You’ll never know until you try.”
The next morning on his way to work, Marshall entered the lodge by way of the lounge and headed to the coffee shop. After the busy day in the infirmary yesterday, he wanted to pick up one of those fancy lattes and present it to Ruthann when she walked through the door. No doubt the surprise treat would make his hardworking nurse want to whip out her thermometer and take his temperature, he thought wryly.
At this early hour, the coffee shop was full of customers sitting around the group of tiny tables, reading the Thunder Canyon Nugget and the daily newspaper from nearby Bozeman while drinking ridiculously expensive cups of flavored java. Marshall found himself waiting at the back of a long line and wondering if he had time to deal with getting the latte for Ruthann after all, when a vaguely familiar voice spoke behind him.
“Looks like we have a long line