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Erika stooped and caught Emilia again, lifting her high in the air. Emilia raised her arms and waved them. “Mommee, Mommee. Fwy!”
Erika explained, “She likes when I lift her up high so she can pretend she’s flying.” Instead of giving her daughter her way, Erika shook her head. “Not here. We’ll fly at home.”
The phone on Dillon’s belt chimed. “Excuse me,” he said, watching Erika with Emilia. He glanced at the caller ID. “I have to take this.” He spoke into the phone. “Just a minute, Grant.” Turning to Erika’s mother, he smiled. “It was good to meet you, Mrs. Rodriguez.”
“It was good to meet you, too, Dr. Traub.”
Then Dillon came very close to Erika and gently ran his hand over Emilia’s hair. “It was a pleasure meeting you, too, little one.” His gaze was so tender yet filled with a deep emotion Erika couldn’t read.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said to Erika. “Go ahead and leave. You were here early and put in a long day. Ruthann can handle any calls coming in now.”
With a last wave for Emilia, he disappeared down the hall and into his office.
“You like him,” her mother whispered to her. “That’s dangerous.”
“Don’t worry, Mom. I learned my lesson the last time.”
“I hope so.” Her mother still looked worried.
Erika knew liking Dillon Traub was not going anywhere. She had even more to lose now than she had three years ago. She would not let a man ruin her life again.
At D.J.’s Rib Shack that evening, Stacy tilted her head and asked Dillon, “How often can you get away from the lodge?”
They’d been catching up over a dinner of ribs and corn bread. “I’m not chained here,” he joked. “But I was hired to treat the guests so I don’t like to go too far. If I do want to go out for an evening, I can give Dr. Babchek a call. He’s retired and can back me up if Ruthann needs him.”
The restaurant wasn’t far from the main lodge. The Rib Shack was nestled in among boutiques that stretched from the lodge through the resort.
Dillon glanced at the mural on the wall of the restaurant, the one D.J.’s wife, Allaire, had painted. For some reason, thinking about D.J. and Allaire and their two-year-old turned Dillon’s thoughts to Erika and Emilia. The little girl was a miniature replica of her mother, glossy wavy hair, big dark eyes. She was a beautiful child—and Erika was a beautiful woman. Dillon sensed there was a lot more to his receptionist than met the eye. She seemed mature beyond her years, unless he was just trying to fool himself.
“Dillon?” he heard Stacy say.
“Yes.”
“I asked if you’ve seen D.J. and Allaire since you’ve been back this time.”
“Not yet. But soon, I hope.”
“What were you thinking about?” the perceptive social director asked. “You seemed miles away.”
“Not so many miles.” Studying Stacy, he said, “I was thinking about my receptionist, Erika Rodriguez. Before I left the office tonight, her mother came in with her little girl. I didn’t know she had a child and I wondered why she kept her a secret.”
“Emilia’s not a secret,” Stacy muttered.
It was the way Stacy said it that made Dillon take notice. “Is there a hidden meaning there?”
Stacy hesitated and Dillon suspected why. She wasn’t the type of woman who liked to gossip, but he wanted to know more about Erika and he wasn’t sure she’d tell him herself. “I don’t want you to reveal anything you shouldn’t,” he assured her.
“Can I ask why you want to know?”
Should he say that he was interested in her, when he was trying to deny that fact himself? “We’ll be working together this month. I’d feel better knowing something about her background.”
Toying with a morsel of corn bread still on her plate, Stacy finally shrugged. “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you. Most of Thunder Canyon knows her story.”
“Her story?”
“Oh, Dillon, you know how gossip spreads in small towns, especially here in Thunder Canyon. I’m sure tomorrow at the resort several people will ask me about my dinner with you.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “Think about the feud between Dax and D.J. and how that was all over town for years, especially after Dax and Allaire got a divorce and then D.J. started seeing her.”
“Water under the bridge,” Dillon muttered, knowing both of his cousins were extremely happy now. They’d settled their feud and actually become brothers. Not only that, but each had found the right woman to make them happy.
“Yeah, but that water has a lot of debris in it.” Stacy pushed back her plate and propped her chin on her hand. “Erika was run through the gossip mill from one end of town to the other. After high school she waitressed for a while and took a couple of business classes in Bozeman. She’d settled into a job as a receptionist for a real-estate agency in Thunder Canyon when the boom took off. I think she intended to get her real-estate license eventually and start moving up. Then a businessman named Scott Spencerman came to town. He found a condo through Erika’s agency, one here at the resort. Erika was only twenty-three. He was older, but she caught his eye. He flattered her and charmed her, gave her presents, but didn’t particularly take her out in public much, if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t know what you mean. If he cared about her—”
“She cared about him. She thought she was in love with him. He was a businessman who traveled a lot and only wanted the condo here for skiing in the winter, and maybe some hiking in the summer. He didn’t want a life here. He wanted entertainment while he was here.”
“Stacy—”
“You asked,” she drawled.
After a long pause, he asked, “So what was the gossip about?” He felt annoyed that people couldn’t keep their noses where they belonged.
“The rumor was that Erika was a gold digger who took up with Spencerman for what he could give her.”
“Is he still around?”
“God, no. When Erika found herself pregnant, he sublet his condo and disappeared. I don’t know what really happened. I don’t know if anyone does. But Erika was out of work after Emilia was born and I think things got pretty rough. Now she barely talks to anyone while she works and leads a very private life. No one really knows if the rumors about her were true or not. Many people thought she got what she deserved.”
“A child and heartache?” Dillon asked. “Just what kind of people live here?” Dillon had met women who wanted to date him because of what he had rather than who he was. Erika didn’t seem like that type at all. Could a whole town be wrong?
He thought about his mother and stepfather. Could a whole family be wrong?
“Are you interested in Erika?” Stacy asked, surprised.
He supposed that was because she knew he hadn’t dated since he and Megan divorced.
“Will you tell me she’s after my money if I say I am?”
“No. But I’ll tell you to watch your back and your heart.” She reached across the table and clasped his hand. “I know what you’ve been through—losing Toby and then your divorce. We’re friends, Dillon. We have been since we were kids. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
He smiled and shrugged off her concern. “How can I possibly get hurt? I’m only going to be here a month and then I’ll be returning to Texas.”
“A lot can happen in a month,” Stacy prophesied.
Part of him hoped her prediction was wrong. The other part of him hoped she was right. He felt as if he’d been living in a bunker since Toby died … since Megan had left. In his group practice with three other doctors, he’d seen patients and dealt with insurance companies until he was too tired to see straight. Each night he’d gone home and collapsed, many nights falling asleep on the couch with the television blaring so it overrode his thoughts. Perhaps a casual relationship was the antidote he so desperately needed.
Erika has a child, he reminded himself.
Maybe Corey was right and it was time for him to leave his bunker … to bury his regrets and the guilt that he’d failed to save his son. He remembered again the way he’d felt at the Hitching Post with Erika in his arms. Would she say yes if he asked her out again?
He might just have to take a chance and find out.
Chapter Three
Dillon slowed on Thursday morning when he spotted Erika at the coffee bar not far from the main lobby. Usually he brewed a pot of coffee in his suite. This morning, however, he’d needed to go to his office, get to work … and forget.
He’d been awake most of the night, remembering the day his wife had left. She’d said, “Toby’s gone and there’s nothing holding us together anymore. I want a new life. I don’t want to be married to a doctor.”
He could have told her he’d leave medicine. He could have told her he’d work in management at Traub Industries and build the portfolio he’d inherited. In the end, he’d known if she couldn’t accept his need to be a doctor, their marriage had truly collapsed.
With the old memories still ricocheting in his head and Erika standing about ten feet away, he decided he might need a double espresso this morning.
When Erika turned from the cashier, a tall coffee in her hand, he noticed the navy suit she wore projecting professionalism and decorum. It was a different style than the one she’d worn yesterday, with larger lapels … more fitted at her waist. Her very slim waist. The white silk blouse had a V-neckline. It was quite sedate, but the sedateness itself was alluring. She’d pulled her hair back from her face and secured it in a tight chignon, but there again the severity of the style just showed off the beauty of her face and her dark eyes.
Dillon checked his watch. When his gaze met hers, he motioned to one of the small, black wrought-iron tables. “I’ll get my coffee and join you.” He really didn’t want to give her a chance to say no.
Indecision flickered across her face, but then she nodded and crossed to one of the tables, one a bit removed from the others in a shadowed corner. Did she not want anyone to see them together? Because of all that gossip Stacy had mentioned?
When he joined her, she was seated, staring into her coffee as if it held the schedule for her day. He didn’t sit across from her, but rather beside her. She didn’t move her chair away.
As she looked up at him, he asked, “So do you drink straight coffee or one of those exotic drinks?”
That’s obviously not what she’d expected him to ask. “Do you really want to know?”
His arm was on the table and he leaned a little closer to her. “Yes, I want to know … in case I pick up coffee for the two of us some morning.”
“I think that’s on my roster of duties.”
He shrugged. “Not necessarily. It’s simply a courtesy. So what do you drink?”
“A double-shot latte. And you?”
“Straight espresso.”
“Now that that’s settled, why did you really ask me to join you for coffee?” she asked him, choosing to be direct.
“Because I like you.”
Again, surprise showed on her face. “You always say the unexpected.”
“Maybe that’s because you think men are predictable.”
Tilting her head, she studied him more assessingly. “So you’re telling me you’re not like most men.”
“I don’t know. What do you expect from most men?”
“That’s beside the point.” She lowered her gaze to her coffee again as if she didn’t want to reveal any secrets.
Even sitting next to her like this, he could feel the attraction between them. He wouldn’t let her put him in the same category as other men in her life. “That’s exactly the point. You never told me why you ran away from me at the Hitching Post.”
“I didn’t run away,” she protested, her chin lifting, her eyes flashing a bit, revealing passion he realized he’d like to tap.
He liked her flash. “You just evaded my question. Evading is pretty much the same as running away.” If he challenged her, he might get to the root of the problem.
Her grip tightened on her coffee. “All right. It was the way you talked about possibly spending time with your cousins’ children. You were so detached … like you were saying the words but you didn’t really mean them.”
She was perceptive … way too perceptive. After practicing the past few years, he thought he had his neutral face down pat. But this wasn’t the place to tell her why he tried to be detached. To tell her about Toby … and Megan. “How did you interpret the detachment?”
She weighed his question, apparently understanding he was giving nothing away. “It meant you don’t want the responsibility of children because you believe they’re a burden. You don’t necessarily ‘like’ kids.”
“I like kids,” he said quietly.
“And parenthood is a huge responsibility.”
He certainly didn’t disagree with her on that. But he wanted to keep this conversation about her. “Do you believe most men don’t want the responsibility of fatherhood?”
After a few heartbeats, she finally replied, “I know two in particular who didn’t—my father and Emilia’s father. I’m sure you’ve heard gossip.”
“Actually, I haven’t. I had no idea you had a daughter. Why do you keep her a secret?”
“She’s not a secret. Almost everyone in Thunder Canyon knows about her. But I try to separate my professional life from my personal life. I haven’t always done that and I found it’s better this way.”
“No pictures on your desk? No mention of her?”
Erika set her cup on the table and her hand fluttered toward him. “I don’t need a picture of her to hold her in my heart twenty-four hours a day.”
“So essentially, you were just keeping her a secret from me.”
“Dillon, she’s not a secret. I just—”
“You just didn’t trust me enough to tell me about her. You didn’t trust me enough to believe I’d understand what had happened.”
Her gaze didn’t evade his. “It’s not as if we know each other.”
Although he was physically attracted to Erika, there were so many other qualities he liked about her, too. Her blunt honesty was one of them. So he was just as bluntly honest. “Do you want to get to know me?”
It wasn’t difficult for Dillon to see the turmoil Erika was in and he guessed one of the reasons why. “This isn’t a boss-secretary situation, you know. You’re a free agent. You’re coordinating Frontier Days. You’re just helping me out with my schedule and phone calls while I’m here.”
Her brown eyes conveyed her concern. “You can still turn in a report about me after you leave that can affect my future.”
Keeping his gaze on hers, he assured her, “I could write that report now and be done with it. It took me about an hour on our first day together to learn you’re organized, you practically have a photographic memory and you’re a perfectionist. What more could any employer want?”
“So you’d write a letter of recommendation now and file it away until you leave?”
“Yes. If doing that would mean you’ll have dinner again with me tonight.”
