Loe raamatut: «I Do! I Do!»
Mitchell was so close she could have reached up and kissed him.
If he wasn’t her boss, she would have been strongly tempted. Of course, if he kissed her, she wouldn’t protest. It might even be a good idea to get it behind them so they could work together without her wondering…
Lizbeth could tell when a man wanted to kiss her, and Mitch showed all the signs as the silence spun out between them. His eyes had darkened and his cheeks were flushed.
Anticipation made her breathless.
But as voices sounded down the hall, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Shall we go back inside?” he asked.
She couldn’t very well disagree. Still, as she followed him back to the noise and the crowd, she would have given a lot to know what he was thinking…
To all the friends and fans who have offered me
encouragement over the years.
To my daughters, Erika and Melody,
for their unwavering support.
To my husband, Frank,
for his unconditional love. And for all those
dinners out when a deadline approached.
PAMELA TOTH
Bestselling author Pamela Toth was born in Wisconsin, but grew up in Seattle where she attended the University of Washington and studied art. Now living on the Puget Sound area’s east side, she has two daughters, Erika and Melody, and two Siamese cats.
Recently she took a lead from one of her romances and married her school sweetheart, Frank. They live in a town house within walking distance of a bookshop and an ice cream shop, two of life’s necessities, with a fabulous view of Mount Rainier. When she’s not writing, she enjoys travelling with her husband, reading, playing on the computer, doing counted crossstitch and researching new story ideas. She’s been an active member of Romance Writers ofAmerica since 1982.
Her books have won several awards and they claim regular spots on bestselling romance lists. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at PO Box 5845, Bellevue, WA 98006, USA. For a personal reply, a stamped, selfaddressed envelope is appreciated.
Dear Reader,
October has always been a month of transition for me. Gardening chores are done, the barbecue put away until spring, but Christmas preparations are still just a blip on my horizon.
My daughters have long outgrown the need for Halloween costumes, the witch hat made of black cardboard, the princess dress sewn from flowered sheets. Instead, I display pumpkins made from ceramic and glass, buy too many sweets and make stews instead of salads.
As a writer, I enjoy exploring transitions of a larger kind, choices that change lives, often in ways that are unforeseen. Sometimes what a person thought she wanted isn’t what she truly needs.
Independence doesn’t mean going it alone, and sharing isn’t the same as weakness. Sometimes a person figures it out before it’s too late, or perhaps she’s lucky enough to find someone who’ll wait, who’ll forgive and love her, and be there for the happy ending we all hope to find.
I wish you every happiness, but most of all I wish you love.
Pamela
I Do! I Do!
PAMELA TOTH
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
Or simply visit
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
Prologue
Lizbeth Stanton adjusted the neckline of her low-cut pink top and straightened the waistband of her black leather miniskirt. Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed open the door to the card room at the upscale Thunder Canyon Resort where her fiancé, Dax Traub, was playing poker with his buddies and his brother, DJ.
“Well, hello, boys,” she drawled, posing dramatically with one hand on her hip as all six men seated around the table stared up at her.
For a moment, the room was silent except for the scrape of chairs as the Cates brothers rose to their feet.
“Evening, Lizbeth,” said Marshall Cates. The doctor’s cocky grin, handsome as that of a soap opera star’s, sent a shiver of feminine appreciation through Liz. She had dated him a few times, but they’d never been serious. His younger brother Mitchell stood silently beside him. If he smiled more often, Mitch might be even better looking than Marshall. Liz had a weakness for black hair and dark eyes.
“Oh, don’t get up on my account,” she exclaimed with a trace of sarcasm as her gaze swept past them to the others, her fiancé included, who were still seated as though their butts were glued to their chairs.
Reluctantly they, too, stood up. Russ Chilton and Liz’s boss, Grant Clifton, wore faintly disapproving expressions. Everyone knew that Russ’s attitude toward women was a century behind the times, but Grant was usually happier to see her.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have come, but she had wanted to remind Dax of just what he was missing by insisting on spending his evening with the guys instead of with her. Especially when she had the night off from her job tending bar here at the resort.
“I had to check my schedule, so I thought I’d just say hi,” she explained, giving each man her most flirtatious smile. If Grant doubted her excuse, he didn’t comment, but both of them knew that she worked a set shift, alternating weekly between days and evenings.
“Well, if it isn’t the second most beautiful woman in Montana,” exclaimed DJ with a pointed glance at his brother. Their sibling rivalry had resulted in a fist fight at the grand opening of DJ’s restaurant a few weeks before. According to Dax, they’d buried the hatchet after that—and not in each other’s skulls. Tonight he ignored DJ’s dig.
“Could you be just a little biased since you finally talked the beautiful Allaire into marrying you?” Marshall asked, peering at DJ.
It was one of those weird coincidences, probably the result of living in a small town, that Dax had proposed to Liz right after DJ and Allaire, Dax’s ex-wife, had announced their engagement. Obviously people who said that Dax was still carrying a torch were wrong.
Liz waited for him to insist that she was prettier, but he remained stubbornly silent, arms folded across his chest and a frown on his handsome face. It was Mitch Cates who finally came to her defense.
“Of course Allaire’s very pretty,” he said with his attention fixed on his pile of chips, “but comparing a blonde to a redhead is like choosing between a delicate flower and a fireworks display. They’re both beautiful, but each in its own way.”
“What a sweet thing to say,” she replied with a reproving glance at Dax. “Thank you, Mitchell.”
His dark eyes flicked up to meet hers for an instant as red color stained his cheeks. How could such a brilliant and successful businessman still be so shy, especially around his former high school buddies? He was one male she found impossible to read.
“Dax, I think someone just compared your lady to a firecracker,” drawled Russ. “Should we congratulate you or send our condolences?”
Just because Liz had dated a few other men in town before accepting Dax’s proposal, Russ had a low opinion of her that he didn’t bother to hide. As far as she was concerned, he needed to loosen up.
“What he’s saying is that I’m hot and Dax is a lucky man,” she replied even though Russ hadn’t been speaking to her. She tossed her head so that her earrings would sparkle and spikes of hair sticking up from her ponytail would dance. “Dax knows that, don’t you, honey?” If he wasn’t going to defend her voluntarily, she’d put him on the spot so he had no choice.
For a moment, he leaned back in his chair and stared steadily back at her, his mouth set in a grim line. Then he shocked her by tossing his cards into the middle of the table.
“I fold,” he growled, scooping up his paltry little pile of chips and shoving back his chair. “I came to play poker, not to sit around jawing about flowers and fireworks.”
Oh, so men didn’t talk while they played? Liz thought. Everyone knew they were worse than women when it came to gossip.
No one breathed a word as Dax grabbed his jacket and stalked out of the room. She would sooner streak naked down Main Street than go running after him, even though her cheeks burned when she caught a couple of sympathetic glances.
“Don’t mind him,” DJ said after Dax had slammed the door behind him. “He’s probably just nervous about getting married again.”
Or Dax was upset that his brother was going to marry Allaire, the woman he was still in love with, after all, Liz thought miserably. She made sure her smile didn’t waver.
Either way, it had obviously been a huge mistake to come here tonight. Now all she had to do was to make a graceful exit without bursting into tears.
“He’ll be fine once he stops pouting.” She made a dismissive gesture that showed off her new manicure. “After all, we firecrackers like a man who can make a few sparks of his own.” She paired a little hip shimmy with a suggestive wink.
A couple of the remaining men chuckled appreciatively at her quip and Marshall gave her two big thumbs up.
“He’s got his hands full with you, that’s for sure,” he said with another charming grin of his own. No wonder every woman in town was crazy about him, even though he was head over heels in love with Mia Smith.
“You’d know about that, old boy,” Russ muttered just loud enough for Liz to hear.
Grant whacked Russ on the arm. “You look great tonight, Liz,” he said firmly.
“Thanks, boss.” She needed to get out of here. “I’m going to let you boys go back to your game. See y’all later.”
Amid a chorus of hearty good-byes, she left the room. “May the best man win,” she called over her shoulder. As she walked down the hallway, she pulled her cell phone from her bag and called Dax, intent on demanding an explanation for his outrageous behavior.
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.
Tasuta katkend on lõppenud.
