Lifting his head, Mitch tested her with a piercing stare and his most forbidding tones. “You can produce references to confirm the information provided?”
“Not at hand,” she said, her voice as cool and unruffled as her demeanor. “But I can obtain them.”
He nodded; he had expected no less. “You appear to be well qualified for this position,” he admitted, unfamiliar excitement quickening inside him at the idea of her working for him, at his beck and call, five days a week. But his hidebound sense of honor insisted he be completely honest. “In fact, you are overqualified. A bigger city would offer you much better opportunities for corporate advancement.”
She smiled.
His blood pressure rose a notch.
“I’m aware of that,” she said. “But, while I appreciate your candor, and advice, I’ll pass on it.”
Too cool, Mitch reiterated…and just a hint of condescension. The woman had guts to spare; not many dared to condescend to him.
“Why?” He shot the question at her.
She didn’t shoot back. Then again, maybe she did, only she fired with a flashing, mind-bending smile.
Mitch felt the hit…and rather enjoyed it.
“As I explained to your assistant, and as my application attests, I’ve been there, done that,” she said. “I’m tired of the struggle.” She shrugged. “I suppose you might say my edge got dull.”
Mitch wouldn’t have said there was a damn thing dull about her. At any rate, he wasn’t prepared to say it to her, not at this point of their association. And, for some reason, or quirk in his own nature, he was determined on their having an association.
“I see” was all he would say.
“Besides,” she continued, “I like the look of this town, the Old West ambience. It’s quaint.”
Quaint. Mitch nodded. It was that. “When did you arrive? Have you seen much of the town?” He had to smile. “Not that there’s much to see.”
“I…er, strolled around this morning,” she answered, her hesitancy and obvious reluctance revealing her first signs of uncertainty.
Mitch decided to probe for the reason for her reticence. “You didn’t take a ride on the Deadwood Trolley?”
She shook her head, setting her hair swaying around her shoulders like living flames…and kicking his imagination into high gear.
“No.” Her full, tempting lips curved into a faint smile; his imagination soared off the gauge. “My father always said that shoe-leather express was the best way to see any city,” she explained. “I can ride the trolley another day.”
As fascinated as Mitch surely was by her mouth, he didn’t miss the fact that she had answered only part of his two-part question. Naturally, he wondered why.
“And when did you say you arrived?” he asked, with gentle persistence.
A spark flared to life in the depths of her fabulous green eyes. Annoyance, anger? Mitch mused.
“I didn’t say.” Her voice held an edge.
Good, Mitch thought. He wanted her on edge, off balance, her cool composure rattled. In his experience, he had found he learned more that way.
“I know.” He smiled…and waited.
She sighed, clearly losing patience with his persistence. “I arrived yesterday,” she finally admitted.
Mitch wasn’t through yet. “From where? Philadelphia?”
She gave him a level look, as if taking his measure. Mitch felt that tingly sensation again, this time throughout his entire system. He liked it. Once more, he merely smiled and waited, returning her measuring look.
“No.” She didn’t smile; she met his look with green fire. “I left Philly months ago, on an extended vacation tour of the country. I arrived here via a small town in Nebraska, where I had stopped for lunch.”
“But you were originally headed for Deadwood?” Mitch thought it a reasonable question. Evidently, Ms. Maggie Reynolds did not, if her fleeting expression of exasperation was anything to go by.
“No.” She shook her head, setting the red strands swirling once more.
Mitch’s fingers itched to delve into the fiery mass, just to see if it burned him. When she didn’t continue on with an explanation, he raised a nudging eyebrow, determined now to hear the whole of her story.
Silence stretched between them for several seconds, then she capitulated with a the-hell-with-it shrug. “While waiting for my lunch, I checked my finances,” she said grittily. “The bottom-line balance indicated that it was time for me to go back to work—” she shrugged “—and here I am.”
She had managed to surprise him, a rare accomplishment for anyone; he had long since been surprised by much of anything. Mitch glanced down at the bona fides on her application. A frown creased his brow when he looked up at her. “I don’t get it,” he admitted. “With your credentials, you could have secured an excellent-paying position in any major city.” He refrained from adding that he was glad she hadn’t. “Why Deadwood?”
She shifted in her chair, revealing her mounting impatience. “I think I’ve already explained that.”
He agreed with a slight nod. “Been there, done that, tired of the grind. Right?”
“Yes.” Her smile had a hint of smugness.
“But, if you’re running out of money…” Mitch let his voice trail off, not yet ready to let her off the hook by quoting the salary he was prepared to offer her, for he definitely was going to hire her.
“I’m not running out of money,” she corrected him. “I’m running a bit low. There is a difference.”
“Point taken,” he admitted, deciding he liked this woman’s style. “But…why Deadwood?” he repeated, now merely curious about her choice.
She smiled.
His stomach muscles constricted.
“Believe it or not,” she said, “I overheard the men seated in the booth behind me talking about it.” She shrugged. “So, I figured…why not?”
Guts, style and insouciance. Some combination, and, thankfully, not in the least similar to Natalie, Mitch thought, tamping down an urge to laugh. He was looking forward to working with, matching wits with and, hopefully, gaining a more intimate relationship with this woman. But he didn’t want to appear too eager or show his hand too soon.
“As I’m sure you couldn’t help but notice, my assistant is in her third trimester of pregnancy,” he said.
“It is pretty hard to miss,” she responded dryly.
“Yes.” He paused, allowed his concern for Karla to show on his expression. “I’m growing anxious about finding someone to replace her, she needs to rest more.” He paused again, pursed his lips, just for effect.
She didn’t betray knowledge of his “effect.” She held his steady gaze with cool green eyes.
His admiration for her expanding, Mitch silently applauded her display of composure. “That being the case, the position is yours…if you still want it.”
“I do.” She nodded. “Thank you.”
Then he quoted a salary figure.
That got a reaction from her. It was quick, but there, in the slight flicker of surprise in her eyes, her expression. She controlled it just as quickly.
“That’s more than generous,” she said.