by Judy Duarte
She glanced at him. “What about horses?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do they have to be perfect in order for you to respect them?”
“Horses demand respect.”
“How so? Their size? Because they’re not as intelligent as dogs.”
Riley held up a hand in frustration. “I’m sorry I brought up Derek, okay? I’ll try to adjust my attitude.”
“Just because I said something?”
“Yes.”
She smoothed her skirt over her knees. “I won’t even ask about your attitude toward women.”
“Thank you.”
She laughed softly, and he understood she was having fun at his expense. He wasn’t used to his comments and opinions being taken lightly or challenged. This evening wasn’t going in the direction he’d planned. Well, maybe the direction was okay, but the person in the metaphorical driver’s seat was in question. He needed to keep things where he wanted them.
“My mother’s planning a reception to celebrate the ground-breaking for the resort,” he told her.
“I guess the ski resort is a pretty big deal, huh?”
“It is. It will bring tourists to Thunder Canyon for more than the summer months. Right now we rely heavily on Heritage Days and the cabins and trail rides, but all that’s seasonal. This will bring in more revenue.”
“I have a few pet owners in the new homes out north. New Town is expanding.”
She hadn’t even picked up on his lead. “The reason I brought it up was to ask you to attend the reception.”
Lisa glanced over at him in surprise. “I really don’t think I’d fit in.”
“Your status is changing. You own property, significant property. And very soon, once that mine is producing, you’ll be investing. As your manager, I’m going to suggest strongly that you invest a percent locally. Public relations is an important part of business.”
“So you think I should attend the reception for PR purposes?”
“Partially.”
She didn’t ask what the other part was. Was he pushing her a little too firmly?
“All right,” she said, surprising him. “When is it?”
He told her the time and date and they made arrangements.
A few minutes later they reached Billings and he drove to the restaurant where he’d made reservations.
When they’d gone to the mine, Lisa had opened her own door before he could get around, but this time she waited. He walked beside her to the building and held the door.
A hostess showed them to their table and brought menus.
Lisa’s eyebrows rose as she studied the menu. She glanced hesitantly at their neighboring tables.
“Something wrong?” Riley asked.
“It’s so expensive,” she whispered.
“It’s okay,” he replied in the same hushed tone. “I’m good for it.”
When the waiter came, Lisa ordered a steak with a baked potato and Riley asked for the same. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman who’d ordered a regular meal and not a salad or seafood.
“Have you looked over the wine selection?” the waiter asked.
“Would you drink wine if I ordered it?” Riley asked her.
“Will you cut me off before my face goes numb?”
With a grin he picked up the list and held it so they could both read it. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Something about the way she studied the list, running her finger down the columns, struck him as familiar, but he couldn’t figure out why. They’d never done this before, never eaten out or read a wine list together. He shrugged off the feeling of déjà vu.
“Let’s get this out of the way,” she said and took several papers from her bag and unfolded them. “These are agreements my lawyer drew up for our working arrangement.”
He read them over quickly. “She faxed me copies so I could read them ahead of time. Got a pen?”
He signed them with a flourish, and Lisa tucked them back into her bag.
“Well, that’s official,” she said, not sure whether to be pleased or panicky. He was working for her. Maybe it would seem real once she’d seen some gold.
The deep red Merlot Riley had ordered arrived, and the waiter poured a dollop in a glass for him to taste. It was dry and rich, an excellent blend of flavors.
After it was poured, Lisa tasted hers.
“Impressed?” he asked.
“I’m impressed by anything without a screw-on cap. How do you know which wine to order?”
“I’ve toured several wineries and I belong to an international club. I subscribe to a couple of publications. You learn the same way you learn anything else.”
“Only if you can afford to try the really good stuff,” she added.
He nodded in concession to her point. He didn’t suppose dog walking afforded her the luxury to purchase vintage wines.
“I’m trying not to think inside the same parameters,” she told him. “Small, I mean. Cheap. But my bank account hasn’t actually caught up yet, so it’s not easy to break away from the habits.”
“I’ve given some thought to that problem.” He set his glass down. “You have to have money to make money—it’s that simple. There are expenses in getting the mining under way. People must be hired and fees paid and there are all number of things cropping up. In the old days, a miner got a grubstake.”
“Someone gave him money for his supplies with the understanding that it would be paid back once the strike came in,” she replied.
Riley nodded. “Yes. The Queen of Hearts is a sure thing. It’s not even a risk. You have gold sitting there waiting to be extracted. I’d like to grubstake the expenses for you. Give you a substantial amount to get you started and tide you over until the mining is well under way. It should be less than a month before that happens.”
“I can wait,” she said easily and watched as the waiter came by and filled their glasses.
“But you don’t have to wait,” Riley continued once the man had gone. “You could have money for the things you need now. I’ve seen that bucket of bolts you drive. You need a better car.”
She glanced aside, but he could tell she was thinking.
“All the meetings are taking you away from your regular job, so there’s a dent in that income, right?”
She sipped her wine and said lightly, “No, I’m juggling time for my pets.”
“You can think about it.”
“I don’t need to think about it. I already owe you for security and safety measures and who knows what all, I don’t want to owe you for personal items, as well.”
“It wouldn’t be that much, Lisa.”
“Not that much? A new car? Excuse me, a new car is much.”
“Comparatively speaking. It won’t be that much compared to how much you’ll be generating from the mine.”
“And I can wait. I don’t like the idea of being in debt.”
She hadn’t added the words to you, but they were there just the same. He raised a hand to say he was finished talking about the advance. He’d made the offer. If she was too stubborn to see the practicality of it, that was her problem.
He changed the subject to advice on how to deal with the people she’d be working with from now on. As the meal was delivered, he poured them both more wine. It was obvious she enjoyed it. Turning their attention to the food and the conversation, the tension between them eased.
“Body language is an important part of communication in business,” he told her. “And there are ways to gain an advantage.”
“Okay, what are they?”
“To dominate another, take control of their time. Make them wait for you.”
“Isn’t that rude?”
“No, it’s controlling an encounter.”
“What if the other person tries to make me wait?”
“Counter it. Make him wait for you. And always choose where and how you sit. Don’t take a low chair, and if there’s no choice,
sit on the edge or stand.”
Lisa cut a bite of her steak and asked, “They taught you this stuff in business college?”
A flash went off before he could reply, and Riley glanced over his shoulder to see a man with a camera just inside the room.
Lisa set down her fork and dabbed her lips with her napkin. She waved pleasantly and raised her glass of wine toward the intruder. “Did you get the label on our wine bottle clearly?” she called. “Because it’s a very good vintage. I could turn it a little bit.”
Riley glanced from her to the reporter, who was joined now by two others. The other restaurant patrons were staring.
He leaned forward. “Don’t you have a restraining order?”
“Yes.”
He reached inside his jacket and pulled out his phone. “Then I’m calling the police.”
Lisa pointed to Riley’s phone but looked toward the reporters. “He’s calling the police,” she called. “You might want to move on.”
His call was answered and he gave the dispatcher the details.
“This is Miss Martin’s restraining order,” the officer said. “She needs to make the complaint.”
He extended the phone. “You have to report it.”
She accepted it without hesitation. “Hi,” she said. “The paparazzi are interrupting my dinner. Could you speak with them? I think they’ll go if you just talk to them.”
She got out of her seat to walk across the room.
More flashes popped, but she walked directly up to the nearest man with a camera. “It’s for you,” she said. “The police.”
Chapter Six
Riley stood and followed a few feet behind her. He watched the bizarre scene unfold and couldn’t help glancing at the curiously staring diners. The reporters looked more uncomfortable at being called out than Lisa did at confronting them. No matter how unorthodox her method, she’d deftly turned the tables and had the situation firmly in control. Maybe she didn’t need his advice as much as he’d first thought.
“Go ahead,” she said to the officer on the phone. “I’m putting the offender on now.” She pointed to Riley’s cell phone and handed it to the man whose camera was now lowered. The other two men first zeroed in for close-ups of the newly transformed heiress, then trained their lenses on the one-sided phone conversation.
“Hello?” the man said uncertainly. “Er, yes. Chad Falkner. Uh-huh. Yes, I’m aware. Certainly. All right. Now, yes. Er, thanks.”
He handed the phone back to Lisa and turned to the men beside him. “We’re outta here or they’re coming to arrest us.”
“I knew you’d see reason,” she told them, still speaking in a friendly manner. “Hey, none of us wants to be made a spectacle of, do we?” She put the phone to her ear. “Thanks, Officer. They’ll be going now.”
She flipped the phone shut and extended it to Riley.
He stifled the urge to laugh while he tucked it away, and a sudden idea occurred. He stepped forward. “Excuse me, but may I make a suggestion?”
The restaurant manager hurried toward them at that moment, a concerned look on his face. “Is there a problem? Would you like to use my office? Or perhaps your party could step outside so as not to disturb the other diners.”
“Did you get this on film?” Lisa asked the young man who still aimed a camera.
“I did,” he said.
“How about him?” she asked, indicating the reporter who’d spoken with the police and was clearly at a loss for what to say or do next. “Did you get him talking to the police?”
The same reporter nodded.
“Let’s step outside for a minute,” Riley said, finally taking control.
He and Lisa and the manager accompanied the three reporters out the door. They stood on the pavement in front of the building. Night had fallen and insects buzzed around the neon signs that lit their small gathering.
“I’d like to make a proposition,” Riley began. “And Miss Martin, you call me out if this is out of line or if you don’t agree. I suggest Miss Martin give you an exclusive personal interview—”
“Wait a minute,” Lisa started to object.
“Let me finish,” he insisted and turned back to the reporters. “An exclusive personal interview at a time and place of her choosing and at her discretion. Taped, not live. You will provide her with the questions ahead of time. She can refuse to answer any she wishes, and she’ll be allowed to provide questions she wants to be asked. She’ll have the right to preview the interview before it’s aired.
“In return for this gracious gift of her time and the sacrifice of privacy, you will leave her alone for an entire week following the airing.” He faced Lisa. “Miss Martin, how do you feel about this?”
She glanced from Riley to the reporters and replied without hesitation. “Sure.”
“And you, gentlemen?”
The media people all needed permission from their superiors, but all three were eager for the opportunity. Riley took their names and numbers and gave them his business card in return. Chad Falkner smirked as though he’d been granted an interview with Julia Roberts.
“Now if you’ll excuse us,” Riley said, “we have a dinner to finish.”
When they returned to their table, their plates were missing. “I had your meals kept warm for you, sir,” their waiter said. He signaled, and a moment later their dinners were returned.
Lisa’s hesitant glance took in patrons at other tables, then raised to his.
“That was the last thing I expected you to do,” he told her. “Confronting them like that. You were great.”
“I’m all about your pleasure,” she said, picking up her fork.
The double meaning of that statement zapped other coherent thought from his head. She wasn’t anything he’d expected her to be, nothing like the reticent young woman he’d planned to befriend and assist. “You keep surprising me,” he said honestly.
“I’m surprising myself.”
He studied her features, her shiny hair and the way the light glowed on her bare shoulders. He wasn’t the one who was supposed to feel as if he was walking on marbles. He had to be very careful around this woman.
“I’ve begun asking myself what Lily would have done.”
“Lily Divine?”
“My great-great-grandmother. I think there’s a lot more we don’t know about her. And a lot we think we know that isn’t true.”
“Like what?”
“She’s famous for being the Shady Lady, but that was just the name of her saloon. I don’t think she was a prostitute.”
“How do you explain that painting over the bar?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know that I have to.”
“The dresses? The saloon?”
She looked him in the eye. “You can hang fuzzy dice around your neck and go stand in your garage, but that doesn’t make you a car.”
He laughed.
She laid down her fork and placed her napkin on the table. “I’ve been reading your great-great-grandmother’s journals.”
“Which grandmother?”
“Catherine Douglas. Amos’s wife.”
“I’ve never heard about any journals.”
“Well, they belong to Tildy Matheson now. Remember you told me about Emily Stanton and Brad Vaughn going through things at Tildy’s and finding the deed? Well, it seems Catherine left her belongings to Tildy’s grandmother.”
“That’s strange.”
“She plans to bequeath a trunk full of items to the historical society.”
“It’s odd those things weren’t kept in the family,” he said, thinking out loud.
“Many families don’t have heirlooms because things get discarded before they’re actually valuable or have much sentiment. It’s fortunate that someone kept these things in good condition.”
He could see that and nodded his agreement.
She picked up her glass and sipped wine. The recessed lighting flattered her dark hair and the sparkle in her eyes accent
uated the feminine hollows of her collarbone and the curve of her shoulders. Riley noticed the way the red fabric was designed to loop over the top of each arm and drape suggestively across her breasts.
He didn’t remember much about the painting of the Shady Lady except those exceptionally appealing breasts. At some time or another, he’d bet every teenage boy in Thunder Canyon had been intrigued by that enigmatic woman from the town’s past…and by her breasts. In the next heartbeat his thoughts took a natural turn and he imagined Lisa without the dress. The mental image was a complete turn-on.
“Would you like to see them?”
If he’d been standing, he would have fallen. Here? She was looking into his face, and he made himself meet her eyes. His heart pounded.
“Riley, would you like to see the journals?”
“Oh! Yes. I’d love to see the journals…thanks.”
“If you don’t have any other plans, you can come to my place when we’ve finished eating. What kind of business do we need to discuss?”
He gathered his senses. “State and federal regulators. Water-quality inspectors. Ladders and escape routes.”
“You really know about all that stuff?”
“I’m educating myself on the aspects of mining so I can advise you.”
“That’s as impressive as the wine.”
He filled her in on what the inspectors would be looking for the next day. “The rest can wait,” he told her. “We’ve talked enough business this evening.”
She smiled. “I agree.”
Lisa’d had him figured out since day one. She took a swallow of the luscious wine and let the warm glow suffuse her insides and spread to her limbs. He’d been hell-bent on endearing himself to her, making his services indispensable, and truth be told, she didn’t mind all that much. She needed the know-how, experience and quick mind he had to offer. She didn’t mind the attention. But his ruse was so transparent, she’d have to be blindfolded in a dark, windowless room not to see it.
His surprise at her transformation was gratifying. More than gratifying. Delicious. She’d caught him off guard. Turned the tables on Mr. Cool. She was sure he’d intended to impress her with an expensive meal and this incredible wine and his charming company. But he’d been expecting to impress and win over the Lisa with the baggy clothing and the wild coils of hair, not this new and improved version.
