The Dakota Man Page 8

  For Maggie, each morning she walked into the office was like stepping onto a tightrope. And it amazed her that Karla seemed serenely unaware of the energy simmering in the atmosphere.

  But then Karla, while scrupulous in teaching Maggie every nuance of the job, was floating in a rosy cloud of infatuation with Ben Daniels.

  That Ben was equally infatuated with Karla was obvious. In fact, by their second evening out with him, Karla had accepted Maggie’s first impression that Ben’s interest had always been for Karla.

  And yet when, after their third dinner date with Ben, Maggie had suggested begging off on future evenings out so that Karla and Ben could have some time alone together, Karla had objected. Her past experiences with the still-undisclosed father of her child continued to make her wary of Ben’s ultimate intentions.

  While she fully understood Karla’s apprehensions, Maggie’s impression of Ben was that of a down-to-earth, honest and dependable man. And her initial impression of him went up a notch when he had gently suggested to Karla, as Maggie herself had numerous times, that she tell her parents about her condition.

  But then, impressions could be deceiving, she reminded herself. Hadn’t she trusted Todd?

  Her second week in the office was pure torture for Maggie, and she began to rue her own expertise. Wanting to save Karla as much of the legwork as possible—since her expanding condition was obviously making it noticeably more difficult to get in and out of her chair—Maggie took on the responsibility of responding every time Mitch called for one of them to come into his office.

  Merely crossing the threshold into his office became an ongoing torment, for Maggie was struck, weakened, by the electrically charged magnetic waves of physical attraction emanating between them. The sensuous sensations aroused within her were breathtaking, exciting, demoralizing.

  On each occasion, Maggie exited Mitch’s office feeling shaken, hungry, yearning for…

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  By Friday, Maggie was seriously considering flinging herself into Mitch’s arms, offering herself up to the heated passion in his eyes, if only to end the sensual agony.

  But, of course, Maggie didn’t do any such thing. Quitting time Friday did finally arrive and, along with it, Ben Daniels. He was taking her and Karla out one last time as he was leaving to return to Montana early the next morning.

  Although Ben had made a solemn promise to Karla to return to Deadwood in December and to be with her for the birth of her baby, Karla’s spirits were low at the prospect of Ben’s imminent departure.

  Maggie was laughing and chattering away with Ben, who was equally animated, in hopes of lightening Karla’s dejected mood, when Mitch’s office door suddenly opened.

  “Hi, Ben,” Mitch greeted the other man, rather coolly, in Maggie’s opinion. “Heading out tomorrow?”

  “Yeah.” Ben sighed, but worked up a smile. “So tonight Karla, Maggie and I are going to live it up.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I have to interfere with your plans.” Avoiding Maggie’s surprised look, he turned to Karla. “A fax just came in that necessitates an immediate and lengthy response. I need you to stay late, Karla.”

  “We’ll wait,” Ben offered at once. “Won’t we, Maggie?”

  “No,” Maggie was quick to assert, noting the gleam of disappointed tears in Karla’s eyes. “You two go on ahead. I’ll stay,” she volunteered, wondering at the flash of bewilderment in Mitch’s eyes. “That is, if it’s all right with you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mitch said, his voice sounding odd, almost stunned.

  “Oh, but…” Karla began, in token protest.

  “No, buts,” Maggie cut in. “I know where you’re going. Maybe I can catch up with you later.”

  “Well…if you insist,” Karla said uncertainly, looking at Ben for guidance.

  “Are you sure, Maggie?” Ben asked. “We really don’t mind waiting.”

  “Go, go,” Maggie said, exasperated by their display of reluctance, when she knew they wanted to be alone together, especially this last night of Ben’s vacation.

  “See you, Ben,” Mitch said, shooting a puzzled glance between Maggie and Karla before turning back into his office.

  “Yeah, see you,” Ben called after him. “Ready, Karla?” he asked, taking her arm.

  Karla looked undecided.

  “Will you go already?” Maggie said, heaving a noisy sigh. “You’re wasting time. I’ll never get done here at this rate.”

  “Well…” Karla hedged.

  “Go,” Maggie ordered.

  Grinning, Ben gave Maggie a thumbs-up as he hustled Karla out the door.

  Grinning back, Maggie responded with a happy nod. But her grin faded with the shutting of the door behind them.

  The question of whether she could handle the job before her should have been uppermost in her mind. It wasn’t. No, what took command of her thinking was whether she could handle her employer. But it wasn’t a fear that she couldn’t handle him that gave Maggie pause, but the very real possibility that she wouldn’t want to.

  Taking a deep breath, and drawing her composure around her like a shield, Maggie followed Mitch into his office.

  He was standing in front of his desk, his expression contemplative. A slow smile tugged at his lips as Maggie crossed to him.

  “Alone at last.”

  Seven

  Alone at last?

  Momentarily stunned by Mitch’s murmured remark, Maggie stared at him with wary suspicion.

  Had his claim about the urgent need to respond to a late-arriving fax been just a ploy to get her alone?

  Excitement flared to life inside her. Yet even as it came into her mind, Maggie rejected the question. Mitch had had no idea that she would offer to remain, had in fact asked Karla to stay.

  So, then, why had he said…

  “Don’t freak, Maggie,” he drawled, making a half turn to pick up the fax on his desk. “Trust me, I have no intentions of bushwhacking you.”

  “I wasn’t about to ‘freak’,” Maggie informed him, arching a brow in disdain. “And I don’t trust any man,” she said with hard emphasis.

  He went stone still for a moment, as if in personal affront, then a wry smile flickered over his lips and he raised one dark eyebrow. “Not even Ben Daniels?”

  “Ben is very nice, charming and good company,” Maggie said, wondering what Ben had to do with anything. “But, he is still a man.”

  “I see,” he murmured. “You’ve been bushwhacked before, and the wounds inflicted are still raw.”

  Well, that was a fairly accurate description, Maggie reflected. She had felt bushwhacked when she’d read that damned note Todd had left for her, and the emotional wounds were still raw, despite her acceptance of never really having been in love with him in the first place. But, naturally, she wasn’t about to admit as much to Mitch.

  “Is disclosure about my personal life, past and present, part of my job description?” she countered, mirroring his single raised eyebrow.

  “No, of course not,” he conceded. “What you do on your own time is entirely your own business.” He managed a small but genuine smile. “So long as it’s legal.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Maggie drawled. “That being the case,” she continued, pointedly glancing at the fax he was holding, “I suggest we get to the business at hand.”

  Mitch actually chuckled. “You don’t rattle easily, do you?” he said, gliding a molten, silvery look over her.

  “I don’t rattle at all,” she retorted, knowing it was a bare-faced lie, as the heat, the blatantly hungry glitter in his eyes, had her hot and bothered and rattled something fierce.

  “All right.” Giving a brisk nod, he raised the fax. “This came in a short time ago. It’s from Adam. He needs some information from us…a lot of information, and he needs it by Monday morning.”

  Naturally, by the end of her second week on the job, Maggie knew that Adam Grainger was the president of the Grainger Corporatio
n, the head honcho of its diverse operations. Taking the fax sheet Mitch held out to her, she carefully read the terse, concise instructions, concluded that Mitch was right, his brother did want a lot of information.

  Rereading the fax, Maggie raised her eyebrows.

  “Adam recently picked up some dependable murmurings about the financial difficulties of a riverboat casino,” Mitch said, answering her silent question. He named the parent group of a chain of casinos.

  Unfamiliar with any but the most publicized of the casino groups and owners, the name meant nothing to Maggie, and she admitted as much.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Mitch said. “What does matter is that Adam got word that the group was planning to file bankruptcy. He contacted the president of the group this morning, suggesting the possibility of a full takeover by Grainger Corp.” He smiled. “They must be eager to unload, because a meeting was set up for Monday morning. Naturally, Adam intends to be well armed with comparison data, thus this rushed request.”

  Naturally, Maggie thought. She was inordinately pleased by the confidence implied by Mitch’s comprehensive explanation, when he could have simply ordered her to retrieve the information without giving her a reason.

  “Then, I guess I’d better get to work,” she said.

  As expected, gathering and retrieving the requested data proved to be a lengthy process. Immersed in the work, Maggie was only peripherally aware of Mitch moving around in his office. The sound of his voice as he spoke on the phone wafted to her through the open doorway.

  Sometime later, she saw him leave his office and exit through the door to the hallway, vaguely thinking he was off to make one of his periodic swings through the casino floor.

  “Time for a break, Maggie.”

  Not having heard him reenter the office, she started at the sound of his voice, clueless as to how long he’d been gone. “I’ve just finished gathering the info. I was ready to start faxing it.” Turning away from the computer screen, she saw he was carrying a tray, laden with covered dishes.

  “I’ve brought us some dinner.” He held the tray aloft. “Leave that for later and come eat.”

  Grateful for the opportunity to stretch her stiff neck, back and legs, Maggie stood. She followed him into his office, to the small round table between the two narrow windows that looked out onto Main Street.

  Mitch set the large tray on the table, then pulled out one of the deeply padded leather captain’s chairs for her. “You relax,” he ordered gently. “I’ll play server.”

  Settling into the comfortable chair, Maggie gave him an impish smile. “Will you expect a tip?”

  “Certainly.” Smiling back at her, he proceeded to transfer the covered dishes, utensils, two cups and a tall thermos of coffee from the tray to the table.

  “Okay, don’t bet on a draw for an inside straight,” she quipped, deadpan, expecting him to laugh.

  Setting the tray aside, Mitch seated himself opposite her before replying, his tone serious. “You’ll have to do better than that…because I never gamble on games of chance.”

  Surprised by his remark, Maggie blurted out the first thought that sprang to mind. “You run a casino and you never gamble?”

  “That’s right.” He smiled with wry humor. “Life itself is enough of a gamble for me.”

  “Incredible,” she murmured, lifting the cover off the plate he’d set before her. She inhaled the mouth-watering aromas of filet of sole in lemon butter, chunks of roasted potatoes and green beans with slivered almonds. “Thank you for this,” she said appreciatively. “It looks and smells wonderful.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mitch replied, standing to pick up the thermos and circle the table to pour her coffee. “And here’s the best part.” He grinned. “It’s caffeinated.”

  “Pure decadence,” she said, laughing.

  His grin was infectious. He was infectious. As he bent over to pour the steaming brew into her cup, Maggie caught the heady fragrance of his spicy cologne, and the even more heady scent of musky male.

  Decadence, indeed. He was more tempting than the beautifully prepared food on her plate. In that instant, Maggie was uncomfortably aware of an earthy hunger more powerful than her body’s need for mere food and drink.

  “I had considered a crisp white wine to go with the fish,” Mitch was saying, returning to the chair opposite her. “But figured you’d prefer the coffee.”

  “You figured correctly,” Maggie said, thinking the look of him, the scent of him, the nearness of him was enough to fog her senses.

  “I wanted you clearheaded.”

  Maggie nearly choked on the bite of fish in her mouth. Could he mean…? No. Surely not, she told herself. He must have been referring to the fax still to be sent, not a desire for something intimate between them.

  “Of course,” she agreed, after managing to swallow the mangled bite of sole. “Understandable.”

  She raised her cup to her lips.

  He smiled…a slow, sexy smile.

  Maggie scalded her tongue on the hot coffee.

  As the meal progressed, Maggie grew steadily more nervous and churned up inside. It didn’t help matters that she couldn’t seem to stop glancing at his mouth every time he took a forkful of food or a sip from his cup. He had a beautiful male mouth, the upper lip thin, the lower slightly fuller, more sensuous. She felt she could almost taste it along with her food and drink.

  It was pure heaven.

  It was sheer hell.

  It was finally over.

  Barely tasting the food she’d consumed, Maggie was amazed that she had cleaned her plate of every morsel. Even so, she still felt hungry, empty and needy.

  Get back to work, to reality, Maggie scolded herself. Setting her napkin beside her plate, she pushed back her chair, stood and began clearing the table.

  “Leave it,” Mitch ordered. Rising, he circled the table to pluck the plate from her suddenly trembling fingers.

  “But…” Maggie began, her voice trailing away as she looked up, stopped breathing and got lost inside his silvery eyes.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Maggie.”

  It was a fair-enough warning, Maggie allowed. He didn’t move or lower his head, giving her a moment to protest or retreat if she chose to do so. She didn’t. Instead, she raised her head to give him her response, and better access to her mouth.

  “Yes, please.”

  Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise? Delight? Maggie didn’t know, nor did she care, for he slowly lowered his head to claim her mouth with his own.

  Shooting stars. Exploding rockets. And yes, the earth moving under her feet. Maggie felt certain she experienced every one of those phenomena, plus sensations too numerous to count.

  She wanted, she needed…more.

  So, obviously, did Mitch. His arms coiled around her, drawing her into intimate contact with his hardening body. His mouth devoured hers. His tongue thrust deep to scour the sweetness of her mouth.

  Curling her arms around his taut neck, Maggie vaguely heard a low groan of need, but wasn’t sure if it came from his throat or her own. She could taste the coffee he had drunk, and the distinct, mind-clouding flavor of pure Mitch. Wanting more and more of his taste she clung to his mouth, to him. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care. At that moment, she’d have happily died in the all-consuming fire of his kiss.

  But, apparently, Mitch had a different kind of death in mind for both of them. Pulling his head back, he stared at her, his eyes molten silver with passion. Loosening his hold, he moved away, toward a door set into the wall a few feet behind them.

  Maggie blinked in confusion. Where was he going? she wondered. Of course, she had noticed the door before, and had assumed it opened into a storage area, or perhaps even Mitch’s private bathroom.

  “Come with me, Maggie,” he said, extending one hand to her, while grasping the doorknob with the other. “Please.”

  He wanted her to go with him into a closet…or a bathroom? But, even as the question flashed
through her mind, Maggie took a step forward and slid her hand into his.

  The door opened to reveal an enclosed staircase, and it was then Maggie recalled Karla saying that Mitch had an apartment on the third level.

  Butterflies were doing bumps and grinds in her stomach, but she allowed Mitch to lead her up the carpeted stairs.

  The staircase opened onto a spacious landing. A large living area was located to the left and a hallway ran straight to the back of the building.

  Maggie barely had time to see the living area, getting a mere glimpse of large, overstuffed furniture in midnight blue and white. With a tug on her hand, Mitch drew her to an open door along the hallway.

  Legs trembling, she preceded him into his bedroom, flinching when he swung the door shut behind them.

  Alone at last.

  The echo of his words of a few hours ago rang inside her head. Only here and now, they were really alone…together…in his bedroom. The king-size bed loomed enormous in Maggie’s sight, blurring her vision to any other furniture, the overall color scheme.

  An instant of panic gripped Maggie at the touch of his hand on her shoulder. She froze for long seconds, motionless with indecision.

  What did she think she was doing? a scared inner voice demanded.

  Oh, don’t be such a wuss, go for it, a braver voice insisted.

  She fought the urge to bolt, with the stronger urge to stay. Would being with Mitch, in the most intimate of ways, be any different? She gulped a strangled breath and turned to face him.

  “You can change your mind, Maggie,” he said, his features taut with self-imposed control.

  Her gaze lowered to his mouth, those lips that had turned her gray matter to soggy granules. Excitement leaped like a flame inside her, spreading like wildfire throughout her entire being. She wanted that mouth, those lips on hers, doing crazy, erotic things to her.