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“I see. So you have half a year.”
“Not anymore.” She blew out a breath. “I’ve been here two and a half months. The employees are intractable and do their own thing. Personnel turnover is too high and we bleed money in training until a new hire is competent enough to pull their own weight. I think someone is skimming money from the books, but I’m so busy putting out fires that I can’t get to the bottom of it. And I’m running out of time.”
“Do you have a personal attachment to this property?”
“I’d never seen it until January.” She sighed. “But my father is testing me. If I can pull this off, I’ll get a choice assignment somewhere that’s not in the wilderness of Montana.”
“Ah.” Making the lodge successful was her ticket out of here.
Ben could understand. Once upon a time he couldn’t wait to shake the dirt, mud and mountain air off, but he didn’t feel that way now.
“So, why are you back here?” she asked.
“To build a house and put down roots. Blackwater Lake is a great place to live.” When she stood, he did, too. “Can’t see renting something, settling in, then moving again. I’m focused on expanding Mercy Medical Clinic and providing quality health care for the town and the tourists who come here to visit.”
“It’s a really noble goal.” She touched his arm to steady herself while slipping her shoe back on, then limped toward the stairs. At the top she turned and said, “Good luck with that, Doctor. Now I really have to say good-night.”
After she disappeared from sight, he heard her uneven step as she walked down the stairs.
Ben found her intriguing and was sorry she’d had to leave. Still, the quid pro quo had put everything in perspective. He was staying and her objective was to get out of town as fast as possible.
That was too bad.
Until last night Camille hadn’t known Ben McKnight existed and now she wondered how he could have been staying in her hotel without her being aware. He was tall, funny and as good-looking as any man she’d met in L.A. or New York, and she’d met a lot of men, according to every rag sheet tabloid paper on the planet.
Now Dr. Ben McKnight was having dinner in the Blackwater Lake Lodge restaurant where she was filling in as hostess. The last one had quit and it was hard to run a five-star establishment without a greeter and seater. Hopefully the interviews she had tomorrow would be productive. Fortunately it was Sunday and not busy. At least it hadn’t been until Doctor Do-Good had arrived and asked for a table by himself.
Since then at least four women, two from the lodge staff and two civilians, had come in, sat with him, written something down on a small piece of paper, then handed it to him. Since they were small scraps of paper, she was pretty sure the information wasn’t their medical history.
At the moment he was sitting by himself and the place was practically empty except for a couple lingering over coffee and dessert at their table near the stone fireplace.
Cam just couldn’t stop herself. She strolled over to where she’d seated him a little while ago and smiled. “Did you enjoy your dinner, Doctor?”
Ben nodded. “I did. The food here is excellent.”
“Amanda will appreciate hearing that. She’s the chef.” And someone Cam had coaxed here from New York. The plan was to prove herself in six months and the two of them would get their pick of prime assignments in one of the Halliday Hospitality Corporation’s other properties. “Can I get you something from the bar?”
“No, thanks. I’m on call for the clinic.”
“Are you expecting broken bones tonight?”
“Mercy Medical Clinic docs rotate the responsibility of being available to triage emergency calls.”
“Excuse me?”
“We take information and decide if the patient on the phone needs to see a doctor and which one could best take care of them. If it’s an orthopedic problem, I’m their guy. Otherwise Adam Stone, the family practice specialist, is up.”
Cam was “up” all day and night here at the lodge. It wasn’t the same as life and death, but she had to be available to deal with any crisis situation. Her performance was being evaluated, and Dean Halliday, her father and president of Halliday Hospitality, didn’t grade on a curve.
“Maybe dessert and coffee?” she suggested. “I happen to know the chef makes the best seven-layer chocolate cake in Montana.”
“Is that a fact?” Dark brown eyes teased and taunted.
“Slight exaggeration. But if it’s not the best you’ve tasted in Blackwater Lake, this meal is on the house.”
“Can you afford to take the chance, what with losing money and all? Or,” he added, “I could lie just to get the meal comped.”
“You could.”
It wouldn’t be the first time a man had lied and taken advantage of her, but she’d been younger then. Naive. Vulnerable. All of that was a pretty way of saying she’d been stupid and her judgment about men sucked. But she was going to prove herself here in this little backwater town or die trying.
She gave him her best smile, the one that showed off her dimples. “But if you don’t tell the truth, we’ll both know.”
“You’re on.” He laughed and showed off his own considerable charms.
His teeth were very white and practically perfect. The pretty people she’d once counted as her closest friends all had cosmetic work to make their smiles perfect, but Ben’s looked like nothing more than good genes. There were streaks in his brown hair that came from the sun and not a bottle at the salon and the bump in his nose kept him from being too pretty. He had a natural ruggedness about him that had nothing to do with acting technique and everything to do with being a manly man. Again with the good genes.
Cam had promised herself after a teenage run-in with police that she’d never again do anything she’d regret. Last night she broke that pledge. She regretted not letting Dr. Ben McKnight examine her foot. Not because she needed anything more medical than an aspirin and a bag of frozen peas for swelling, but simply to feel his big, competent hands on her leg.
Focus, she told herself. Glancing around, she saw Jenny, the lone waitress tonight, and signaled her over. The server shot her a dirty look, then moved to the table and smiled warmly at the doctor.
“What can I get you, Dr. McKnight?”
“Miss Halliday has talked me into a cup of coffee and a piece of Montana’s best chocolate cake.”
“Excellent choice,” Jen said. “I’ll bring it right out.”
“I should walk back and get it myself,” he said. “It’s going to add an extra mile to my run in the morning.”
“You look fine to me.” Jenny smiled and there was definite flirtatious eyelash-batting going on.
Cam held in a sigh and made a mental note to add an item to the staff meeting agenda. Friendly, but not too friendly. It was a fine line.
She looked down at the customer and gave him her professional, but not too friendly smile. “You may have to run an extra mile, but I promise the cake will be worth it.” Then she turned away.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have work to do.”
“Is the place that busy? Can you keep me company?”
“From what I saw you had plenty of company during dinner, Doctor.”
He shrugged. “People in Blackwater Lake are friendly.”
“Is it just me or merely a coincidence that all those friendly Blackwater Lake people were of the female persuasion?”
“Are you jealous, Miss Halliday?”
“What if I were, Dr. McKnight?”
“I’d be flattered,” he said.
“And I’d have a target on my back. Enjoy your dessert,” she said, turning away.
“Whoa, not so fast, Cam. Do you mind if I call you that?” Without waiting for an answer he pointed to the chair at a right angle to his. “It’s just plain mean to make a cryptic remark like that, then walk away.”
“I have no reason to stay.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be friendly to your guests?” he asked.
“The first rule of hospitality,” she confirmed. “And I have been. But there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”
“Isn’t the customer always right?”
“Yes, but—”
“So, sit. Take a load off that foot.” He looked down at her legs in four-inch heels. “Nice shoes. How is the foot, by the way?”
“Fine.” She didn’t take him up on the offer to sit because that wasn’t professional. But she didn’t leave, either.
“Tell me about the target on your back.”
“Obviously you were smart enough to pass medical school. Do you really not get it?” That was tough to believe. A man as good-looking as he had to have had opportunities. He’d probably left this small town for college a naive guy of eighteen, but surely he’d been around the block a time or two since then. “You’re quite a catch.”
“What am I? A fish?” The twinkle in his eyes said he knew where this was going and wasn’t the least offended.
That was fortunate because in the hospitality game one always aimed to please. “You’re a doctor and not hard on the eyes—”
“Did you just say I’m cute?”
“I said the women in this tiny little town might perceive you that way and you probably make a decent living as a doctor.”
“Are you asking?” He rested his forearms on the white-cloth-covered table.
“I’m not interested. But clearly a number of women are. A single guy—” She stopped as a thought struck her. “You aren’t married, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Divorced?”
“One would have to have been married for that to be the case.”
“So you’ve never been married.”
Before Camille could continue the line of questioning, Jenny brought over his cake and the assistant waiter delivered a saucer and cup, then filled it with coffee.
“Anything else I can do for you?” Jenny asked.
“No. But thanks.” Ben gave her a smile.
The waitress returned it and moved behind him where she leveled Cam with a look that if it could kill would render her a rust-colored stain on the floor.
Ben forked off a piece of cake then put it in his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. After chewing and swallowing, the sound of pleasure he made was almost sexual. Since her January arrival in this state that was so close to Canada, she’d never once been too warm. Not until now. And she very much wanted to fan herself.
Steady, girl. What were they talking about? Oh, right. He’d never been married.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
“Excuse me? I believe I just proved your point about this being the best cake in Montana.”
“I’m not talking cake.” She folded her arms over her chest. “You’re handsome, smart, a doctor who returned to his hometown to practice medicine. Approximately thirty-five—”
“Close,” he confirmed. “Thirty-four.”
“Apparently I’m out of practice. And don’t interrupt me. I’m on a roll. You’re thirty-four, not married and never been married. What’s wrong with you?”
“Am I gay, you mean?”
“That’s not what I asked, but—”
“No. I’m not.”
“That’s a relief.” She realized that thought hadn’t stayed in her head and added, “I mean, for the single women in Blackwater Lake who went to all the trouble of giving you their phone numbers.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve been watching them hand you slips of paper too small to be a résumé or autobiographical novel. And I did catch a glimpse of numbers.”
“You’re very observant.”
“Attention to detail is the hallmark of the hospitality business,” she said, irritated at how much she sounded like her father. “So, how does someone who looks so good on paper escape personal entanglements unscathed?”
The twinkle in his eyes vanished and the warm cocoa color turned almost black. “Who says I did?”
“So you have a story.” It wasn’t a question.
“Doesn’t everyone? You go first.”
“Nice try.” She shook her head.
If he was curious he could just Google her. There was plenty documented on the internet that she’d never live down no matter how hard she tried. Or he could ask the hotel staff. They’d be happy to share.
And judge. The employees had made up their minds about her based on tabloid stories and entertainment gossip. They’d decided she was too shallow, too spoiled, too short and too blonde to be taken seriously.
Why should Ben McKnight be any different?
Chapter Two
