Читать книгу I Do! I Do! - Pamela Toth - Страница 8

Chapter One

“You’re better off without him, Sis,” Emily said in a firm voice. “Dax Traub is an idiot if he doesn’t know what he’s losing. He’s not worth another minute of your time.”

Even though Liz was still reeling from the shock of her broken engagement, her sister’s words made her feel slightly better.

“I think you’re biased,” Liz protested in a shaky voice.

She’d called Emily as soon as she’d gotten home from meeting Dax at The Rib Shack, DJ’s latest addition to his successful restaurant chain. Apparently Dax had figured she wouldn’t make a scene if he gave her the bad news in a public place.

At first Liz had been too stunned to speak, too busy trying to absorb words that seemed to have no meaning. Holding back the threat of tears as he’d sat across from her looking uncomfortable. He’d looked anywhere but at her as he’d squirmed in his chair.

When she’d asked him why in a ragged whisper, he had merely shrugged. “It’s not you.” His face showed more discomfort than regret or sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

Still speechless, Liz had gotten to her feet, legs wobbly, and left the restaurant with as much dignity as she could manage. All the way home from town, tears running down her face, she had asked herself why. Why? Dax was handsome and sexy, his bad-boy image not hurt in the least by the motorcycle shop he owned. Apparently Liz just wasn’t pretty enough or hot enough to hang on to someone like him.

“He wasn’t right for you, honey,” Emily continued. “Why on earth did you get engaged to him in the first place? You hadn’t dated long, had you? Did you even really know him?”

Liz leaned against the kitchen counter of the tiny cabin where she lived, a cabin owned by Emily and her husband. “No, obviously not,” she moaned, “but he was so insistent. When he proposed, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and I hated to hurt his feelings.”

“Oh, honey,” Emily said, “now he’s hurt yours, the bum. Maybe it’s time to start putting yourself first. Getting married isn’t your only option, you know.”

Good point, Liz thought as she straightened and walked over to the window above the sink. The view of the trees never failed to calm her.

“I guess it’s mainly my pride that’s hurt,” she admitted, realizing that what she said was true. How many men had she dated because it was hard to turn them down, even when she had no real romantic interest in them?

“Did you love him?” Emily asked. “Could you really picture yourself spending the rest of your life with him?”

Liz tried to picture herself with gray hair and bifocals, seated on a Harley with a shawl draped around her shoulders. “Maybe I was more in love with the idea of getting married than I ever was with Dax.” After all, hadn’t she been planning her wedding since she was a little girl?

At least she hadn’t slept with him. She had wanted to wait and he’d been okay with that. Perhaps too okay.

“Truth be told, I don’t think he’s over his first wife, Allaire,” Liz admitted aloud the niggling suspicion she’d refused to acknowledge before, even in her thoughts. As her fingers tightened on her phone, she watched a woodpecker drilling a nearby tree trunk in a quest for insects. “It probably wasn’t a coincidence that we got engaged at about the same time she and DJ made their announcement,” she admitted.

Emily groaned again. “You poor thing. If he was on the rebound—”

“You know what,” Liz interrupted on a fresh burst of determination, “I’m going to get through this and I’ll be okay. You’ll see.”

“I know you will.” Emily’s tone was instantly hearty—and as phony as the counterfeit twenty Liz had gotten stuck with at the bar last week.

Still, Liz appreciated her sister’s support. Even if Emily did sometimes think Liz was a flake just because she had changed jobs a few times—well, maybe more than just a few—as she tried to figure out what she wanted to do until she met the perfect mate and married him.

Didn’t most women like her—single, early twenties—want it all, a great career, a wonderful husband and a perfect family? Wasn’t that still the American dream?

She rubbed her temple with her free hand. Was she being realistic in thinking it was possible? Perhaps she needed to rethink things.

Even though having a man in her life would be nice, like having a sports car, she didn’t need one. She straightened. Emily was right; she had other options. This could be the first day of a new plan, a new direction.

A brand-new Lizbeth Stanton!

The notion was too fresh to share with her sister. She might remind Liz of all the other times she’d made fresh starts, make her doubt herself.

“Em, I’ve got to go,” Liz said, glancing up at the clock. She had a couple of errands to run before her shift at the bar started. “Thanks, though. You know, for listening and all.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Emily asked, sounding worried. “I wish I could come and see you, but—”

“No, really,” Liz replied. “It’s sweet of you to offer, but I’ll be fine. I am fine,” she said with renewed enthusiasm. Let Dax moon over his ex-wife, if that was what he wanted to do. She had better things to occupy her!

“All right, but call anytime, okay? I mean it.” Emily didn’t sound convinced, but Liz knew she was too busy with her own life and her husband to drop everything and hold Liz’s hand.

“I know. I will. Take care.” After a few more platitudes and promises to stay in touch, Liz finally ended the call. Part of her wished she’d refrained from confiding her bad news to Emily until she’d thought things through, but she wouldn’t have been able to keep it secret forever. In a small town like Thunder Canyon, word had probably already spread like an oil slick.

She tossed her head, red-streaked ponytail bobbing. It had been good to be told that Dax was a rat who didn’t deserve her. Perhaps she should have seen it coming—especially the way he’d stalked out of his little poker party after she crashed it. She’d been prepared to forgive his tantrum over a nice lunch. Instead he’d dumped her as coolly as canceling an appointment.

Before she got involved again just because she didn’t want to say no and dent some man’s fragile ego, maybe she needed to spend a little time figuring out what she needed. With a huff of self-righteousness, she grabbed a bottled water from the ancient refrigerator and went into the bedroom to change her clothes for work.

Just because she intended to turn over a new leaf didn’t mean she wouldn’t care about looking especially hot at the bar tonight. So that everyone who came in to find out if she was devastated could see exactly what Dax Traub had foolishly tossed aside.

* * *

Mitchell Cates sat in a corner booth at the Lounge, nursing a beer from some local micro-brewery he’d never heard of. It was early yet, too early for the dark-paneled lounge to have more than a couple of other customers.

Broodingly he watched a pair of tourists seated at the bar flirt with the bartender on duty. When she threw back her head and laughed at something one of the men said, Mitch found himself wishing he could make Lizbeth laugh like that. He could almost feel the melting warmth of her smile, see the sparkle of interest in her big dark eyes.

Tonight Lizbeth looked especially gorgeous with her dark red-brown hair piled on top of her head, curls and glittering ribbons bouncing in all directions. She was like a brightly colored bird, full of life and energy. What might be messy or overdone on most women looked just right on her. As did her clingy strapless silver top and short black skirt. How could such a petite body come equipped with legs that went on for miles?

He enjoyed watching them every time she came out from behind the bar. Just thinking about her made his mind shut down and his tongue flop around in his mouth like a trout on a hook. He felt like a kid with his first crush.

Scowling, he watched the two men at the bar get to their feet.

“Aw, come on, baby, loosen up,” coaxed the one in the baseball cap, leaning toward Lizbeth as the other tossed some bills onto the bar. “It’ll be fun. Trust us.”

Shaking her head, she pointed to the older bald man polishing glasses at the far end of the bar. “It wouldn’t be fair to Moses if I left.”

The man who’d spoken to her glanced around the dim room, gaze sliding past Mitch as though he were invisible.

“It’s dead here,” he argued with a sweep of his hand. “Old Mose can handle it.”

The three of them continued to banter until a gray-haired couple walked in and sat in an empty booth. The man looked over at Lizbeth expectantly.

Bidding goodbye to her rowdy admirers, she went over to take the couple’s order. While she was distracted, Mitch took a determined breath and carried his glass to the bar. Ever since he’d heard earlier that she and Dax had broken up, he’d been thinking about approaching her. Rehearsing in his head what he would say when he did. Trying not to think about the fact that she’d dated, albeit briefly, his own charming, witty, successful brother before getting mixed up with Traub.

Mitch had never felt less charming or more nervous than he did now as Lizbeth finally came back after serving the older couple their drinks.

“Mitchell Cates,” she said gaily, her dark eyes sparkling just for him. “Can I get you another beer?”

Gut clenching, he barely glanced at his half-full bottle. “I’m good, thanks.” His mind went blank. “Slow night,” he blurted, forgetting all the clever comments he’d thought out earlier.

If she thought him a dull clod, she didn’t let it show. “It’s early yet,” she replied agreeably. “Business picks up later.”

“When do you get through work?” he asked, scorching heat searing his face. “I, uh, didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” he added, fumbling. He managed to bump his beer bottle, then caught it before it could spill.

She shook her head. The subdued lighting made the red streaks in her hair shimmer. “Don’t worry, Mitchell.” Reaching across the bar, she patted his hand. “I didn’t take it wrong.”

He felt that brief touch all the way up his arm and down to his toes. It probably kicked up his blood pressure as it loosened his tongue. Now or never.

Lizbeth glanced past him as another customer walked by. “Good night, Mr. Sinclair,” she called before shifting her attention back to Mitch. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned to admire the sassy twitch of her hips as she collected the check, wiped the table and picked up the dirty glass. Dumping it behind the bar, she came back to where he sat.

He wiped his damp hands on his thighs. “Do you like working here?” he asked. She certainly got on well with the customers, sometimes too well.

She shrugged, making her gold hoop earrings dance. “It’s better than my last job at the accounting office.” She rolled her eyes expressively. “Boring.”

Mitch joined in her laughter. As long as they talked about jobs and careers, he was on solid ground. His was the world of a businessman who’d built his company from one idea, one clever invention, into a brand that was well-known in ranching and farming circles throughout the country and beyond.

When he attempted to cross over to the other side—the social arena of small talk and flirting—he stepped into quicksand. And never more so than when he talked to Lizbeth.

“Have you ever thought about changing jobs?” he asked, hoping desperately for a few more moments alone with her before more thirsty customers showed up.

There was more than one way to get to know someone. Especially someone as appealing as Lizbeth, idly tracing figure-eights on the surface of the bar carved from walnut burl.

Since her world unnerved him so badly, he hoped to bring her into his.

From her surprised expression when she looked up, he realized he’d managed to throw her a curve. “I think about working somewhere else all the time,” she admitted with a wary glance at Moses. “I’ve already changed jobs so many times that I just didn’t know if it would be a good idea again unless something really perfect came along.”

He ignored the sudden feeling of hesitancy. “So you might be open to suggestions?”

She batted her long lashes, clearly not thinking he was serious. “Just what did you have in mind?”

He resisted the temptation to let his attention wander from her smoky brown eyes to her sweet, full lips. “A legitimate job offer,” he replied. “I promise.”

Liz studied Mitchell Cates, trying to figure out his game. She got hit on all the time in this job, but he didn’t seem the type. He came across as clever, driven, reserved—and every bit as handsome as his brother Marshall. Especially when Mitch smiled as he was doing right now.

Maybe he was more of a player than she’d first thought. She doubted he did his employment recruiting in bars.

Curious, she rested her elbows on the polished wood slab. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to listen,” she replied, ignoring the inexplicable feeling of disappointment that he was probably just like other guys.

At least he was someone to talk to. Once the room started jumping, she and the staff coming on in an hour would be lucky for a moment to breathe between drink orders.

“Are you familiar with my company, Cates International?”

“Sure. You make tractors, don’t you?” She’d driven past the large complex at the edge of town without paying much attention. With her new plan to put herself first, she needed to make a habit of recognizing opportunities, no matter how unlikely.

Especially one involving a dark-haired man with a killer—if fleeting—smile. Damn, but her old habits were hard to break!

“Tractors,” Mitchell echoed. “Close enough, I guess. We actually manufacture hydraulic tables to lift and immobilize cattle. We call them cow-tippers.” He shook his head with a rueful grin. “This is where your eyes start to glaze over and you stifle a yawn.”

Faking interest in some manly subject she found drop-dead boring was a skill Liz had perfected in adolescence. Gaze unflinching, she pretended fascination. “But why would anyone want to tip a cow?”

“Good question,” Mitchell said.

The phone behind the bar began to ring. She glanced at Moses, but he was restocking the Kentucky bourbon. “Excuse me for a moment,” she said.

Mitchell nodded. “No problem.” While he sipped beer that must surely be warm and flat, she took the call and recited their hours by rote.

“Sorry about that,” she said after she’d hung up. “You were talking about tipping cows?”

“Actually, lifting and immobilizing them for various reasons, like trimming their hooves,” he explained. “I won’t bore you with the sales pitch right now.” He slid his beer bottle a couple inches to the right, then moved it back to where it had been. “The thing is that I’m looking for an office assistant. Suzy’s leaving, so I’ll need someone to answer the phone, keep track of my appointments and do some other office chores.”

Liz’s interest surged, but then doubt intruded. “How do you know that I can even use a computer?” she asked.

“You just said you worked in an accounting office,” he reminded her. “I doubt the basics are much different. What you don’t know, you can probably learn. People skills can’t be taught and from what I’ve observed, yours are excellent.”

The compliment was gratifying, especially since it had nothing to do with her face or her boobs. How long had it been since someone had recognized her worth in some other less obvious way than her looks?

He’d certainly snagged her attention, but she wasn’t about to be swept off her feet.

“The work here is easy and the tips are good,” she countered. “Most of the time, it’s a lot of fun.” Never mind the aching feet, rude drunks, occasional pinches and pats, and weekend shifts. “Still, a change of pace might be nice.”

“Why don’t you come on in to the office one morning this week and fill out an application?” he suggested. “We can talk some more.”

It was time to up the ante and see if he was serious, since in her experience most men seemed only to want what they couldn’t have.

“If I were to really consider leaving the resort, it would be for more than just another dead-end job,” she explained as a party of four wandered in and sat around a nearby table.

“I’ll be right with you,” Liz called to them. “Speaking of work,” she told Mitch, “I’d better get back to it.”

“Finish what you were saying first,” he urged her with a brief touch on her wrist, “about what you’re looking for?”

Ignoring again her flare of awareness of him as a man—an attractive, successful, available man, as the old Liz would have noticed first and foremost—she stuck to her new resolution.

“I’m looking for a career opportunity,” she said firmly, “a genuine chance to move up in the world.”

She figured he might laugh in her face as he got to his feet. Imagine someone like her telling a successful entrepreneur like him that he’d have to do better with his offer!

His brown eyes—lighter than Marshall’s and shaded with gold—narrowed for an instant and then he took out his wallet. After he’d extracted a couple of bills, he slid a business card toward her.

“Come and see me,” he urged again. “We’ll talk.”

Bemused, she watched him walk purposefully from the Lounge without a backward glance and then she stared down at the card. Since his gaze hadn’t once wandered to her cleavage, perhaps his offer really was different from most.

Cates International, read the card in green script on an ivory background. Mitchell Cates, President, followed by his numbers.

The sound of snapping fingers distracted her.

“Hey, cutie, shake your booty.” A trio of young guys had come in without her notice. Seated at the bar, all three sniggered as though they had just invented humor.

Liz plastered a smile on her face. “Down, boys,” she teased. “I’ll be right with you.” And if you don’t think I’ll card you, she promised silently, think again.

Mitch looked up from a purchase order he’d been scanning to see Suzy, the office temp, standing in the doorway.

“Lizbeth Stanton is here. She said you asked her to come by, so do you have time to see her now?” she asked.

He had himself convinced that she probably wouldn’t come, especially after she’d told him her accounting job had been boring. How exciting was farm equipment if you weren’t a farmer?

“Bring her right in,” he said impatiently as he got to his feet. Did he think she would turn around and leave again if he kept her waiting for more than ten seconds?

He barely had time to smooth down his hair before Suzy reappeared with Lizbeth, who hovered in the doorway while Suzy handed him her résumé.

“Have a seat,” he urged, hoping his face didn’t betray the extent of his pleasure. Inside he was beaming like a kid with a treat.

“I’m glad you could make it,” he said as Lizbeth perched on the edge of a chair facing him, her dark skirt almost reaching her knees. With it she wore a tailored blouse and toned-down makeup. Even the tiny hoops in her ears, a far cry from the glittering bangles, seemed to whisper serious applicant.

“Anything else?” Suzy asked from the doorway.

“Coffee?” he suggested as he sat back down behind his desk.

“I’m good, thanks,” Lizbeth replied, crossing one slim leg over the other.

“Hold my calls,” he told Suzy. “Thanks.”

After she had shut the door behind her, he set aside Lizbeth’s paperwork without a glance.

“Did you have any trouble finding us?” he asked.

The sun that streamed through the window turned her hair a hundred shades of fiery copper. Whether or not the visual feast was her natural color, it emphasized the chocolate brown of her eyes.

“Marshall pointed it out to me once,” she replied. As soon as the words were out, she shifted uncomfortably. “I mean…no, I didn’t have any trouble.”

It was no secret that she had dated his brother before Marshall hooked up with Mia Smith. Hell, Mitch doubted there was any woman in town who hadn’t dated Doctor Dazzle, as he sometimes thought of his outgoing sibling.

“Please don’t feel uncomfortable, Lizbeth,” Mitch reassured her. “I’m aware of what it’s like to live in a small town where everybody knows everyone else’s business. It’s no big deal.”

She appeared to relax. “Please call me Liz.”

“So how have you been?”

“You’ve probably heard that I’m no longer engaged.” She stuck out her bare left hand as proof. “Maybe you noticed when you were in the Lounge the other evening.”

He hadn’t, but he didn’t figure that kissing her hand now would be a good idea, so instead he tried to appear sad for her. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” If this had been a fairy tale, his nose would have grown like Pinocchio’s for telling such a whopper.

She tossed her head, making her small gold earrings sparkle. “Like you said, it’s not a big deal.”

He wondered how Dax could bear to lose her, but for once his buddy hadn’t said a word.

“Does that have anything to do with your interest in changing jobs?” he asked curiously.

His question seemed to catch her by surprise. Her gaze darted around his office.

“It made me realize that I can’t depend on anyone but myself, so it’s time to get serious and start working on a career plan like I mentioned the last time we talked. I just wasn’t ready to go public with being dumped then.”

“Sounds like you’ve sworn off men,” he replied regretfully. Maybe trying to hire her wasn’t a good idea after all.

She started to smile flirtatiously, but then her expression sobered. “I’m putting myself first,” she said firmly. “I want to be independent, to take care of myself instead of relying on some man.” She leaned forward with a touch of earnestness. “I’m willing to work hard and learn all I can. What I’m asking in return is that you give me a genuine opportunity. I’m done being window dressing.”

Mitch had been picturing himself leaning over her shoulder, basking in the scent of her perfume while she gave him a list of his phone calls. Admiring her legs as she perched on the corner of his desk or soaking up the admiration in her big brown eyes when he outlined some new product idea.

Reluctantly, he realized he’d been guilty of the worst kind of chauvinistic fantasies between a boss and his secretary. That attitude was not only wrong, it was unfair, especially when he considered himself a progressive employer who gave his workers respect and loyalty.

In the lengthening silence, Liz had begun to pick at the hem of her skirt. Her chin went up in a gesture he was beginning to recognize as a defensive reaction.

“Perhaps I’ve misunderstood your offer.” Her voice had cooled, its former enthusiasm gone as she started to rise.

Mitch gestured for her to stay put. “Believe me, my need for a full-time assistant is legitimate,” he said insistently. “I’m looking for someone who wants Cates International to be part of her future.” He took a deep breath. “Come on. I’ll explain more while I show you around.”

“I can’t believe you’re really doing it,” Kay Costner, Liz’s closest friend in Thunder Canyon, said from the next chair as Shandie Solomon spun Liz around to face the mirror.

“What do you think?” Shandie asked Liz as the they both studied her reflection. Shandie had recently begun working at the beauty shop and Liz liked her youthful attitude as well as her knowledge of trendy styles.

Liz studied her hair with mixed feelings. “It’s funny,” she replied as she tipped her head first one way and then another. “Last week I was thinking about adding scarlet or purple streaks and now I look more—”

“Like a secretary?” Kay supplied.

“Like a serious professional person,” Liz corrected her. She met Shandie’s gaze in the glass. “It’s perfect.”

A few minutes later, as Liz and Kay walked to their cars, Kay looked her up and down with a considering expression. “I hope this new job will make you happy,” she said with a sincere tone. “Dax is a rat, but I’m worried that you’re overreacting.”

Liz grinned at her friend. “You mean because I’ve quit my job as a bartender, undergone a complete makeover and maxed out my credit card on a new professional wardrobe?” she asked teasingly.

“That, too, I guess,” Kay replied with an airy gesture. “I was actually referring to the neutral polish color on your nails. Not a rhinestone or a butterfly in sight.”

As Liz gave her a playful shove, they both laughed. “Funny,” Liz replied. “When a girl is starting a new phase of her life, she needs to look the part.”

“And, girl,” Kay said as they high-fived each other, “you’re gonna knock your boss’s socks off.”

“All I want to do is to show him that I take this opportunity very seriously,” Liz reminded her. “And that I’m a complete professional.”

She glanced at her reflection in an adjacent storefront window, cropped top under her denim jacket, tight jeans and high-heeled leather boots. “Yes!” she exclaimed, reaching up her arms as she shimmied her hips, tipped back her head and shouted, “I am woman, hear me roar!”

With a last enthusiastic whoop, she spun in a wobbly circle just in time to see her future boss getting into his truck right across the empty street.

If she’d had any doubt that he had missed her little show, the wave of his hand before he shut his door dispelled it.