I Do! I Do!. Pamela Toth
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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