The Doctor's Dating Bargain. Teresa Southwick
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face and deep dimples. Her eyes looked blue, although he couldn’t tell the shade, and tilted up slightly at the corners. Her hair was straight, and cut in layers that framed her face and fell past her shoulders. Her arm through the light sweater she wore had felt delicate and small-boned. Although the heels gave the impression of height, she barely came up to his shoulder, which made her not so tall.
Suddenly he wondered who he was talking to. He didn’t even know her name. On top of that, she was the one asking all the questions. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me why you’re so ticked off?”
“There’s nothing to say.”
“For starters you could define the mess you’re in.”
“I was hoping you didn’t hear that,” she said.
“Nope. Sorry. Every word. And let me quote here, ‘I’m in so much trouble.’ Should I be afraid to get too close? Are you at the top of an assassination list? On the run from law enforcement? A CIA spy doing covert surveillance?”
“Right, because so much happens in Blackwater Lake that the government needs to surveil.” There was a suggestion of sarcasm and the barest hint of mockery in her tone.
“You don’t like it here?”
She met his gaze. “Let’s just say it’s not New York or L.A.”
“So define trouble. You could be pregnant,” he pointed out.
“You have quite the imagination.” Her lips turned up at the corners in a brief show of amusement. She had an awfully spectacular mouth when it wasn’t all pinched and tight. “And that would be a miracle since I haven’t had sex in—”
“Yes?” He looked at her and waited.
“That’s really none of your business.”
“Maybe not, but now I’m awfully curious.”
“Be that as it may,” she said, “you’re a stranger and I’m not in the habit of sharing personal information with someone I’ve barely met, Dr. McKnight.”
“At least you know my name. That’s more than I can say about you.”
“Camille Halliday.” She looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for recognition. Actually more like bracing for it, as if the information would be unpleasant.
The name did sound familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Halliday.”
“Likewise, Dr. McKnight. Now, I really should be going.” She slid the punting foot off the ottoman and gingerly tested it on the deck.
“How does it feel?”
“Several of my toes hurt,” she admitted.
“Can you walk on it?”
“I have to. Work to do.”
“At the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“In what capacity?” he wanted to know.
“I run the place.” That’s when her last name clicked. Her family had made a fortune in the hotel and hospitality industry. “You’re one of the Halliday hotel chain family.”
“Among other things,” she said a little mysteriously. After sliding her other leg off the ottoman, she moved forward in the chair and tested more weight on the foot. Drawing in a breath she said, “That smarts a little.”
Ben realized he didn’t want her to leave yet. “I’d be happy to look at it for you. Sometimes taping a couple toes together helps.”
“Thanks for the tip. Taping a toe I can handle.” Her words implied there was a whole lot more she couldn’t handle.
“Okay. But if you don’t want me to examine it, at least sit for a few more minutes and take the pressure off.”
She sighed, then nodded. “I can sit, but that won’t relieve any pressure.”
“You’re not talking about the foot now, are you?”
“No.” She caught the corner of her bottom lip between her top teeth as she stared out over the back grass and the thick evergreen trees beyond.
“What’s wrong? Might help to get it off your chest.”
“It might, but I can’t. One of the first things I learned getting a master’s degree in hotel management was never unburden yourself to a guest.”
“I’m not really a guest,” he said. “It’s more like a lease until my house is ready.”
“Why didn’t you do that?” she asked. “Rent a place, I mean?”
“Oh, so you get to ask questions but I don’t? How about a quid pro quo?” He met her gaze. “You tell me about your trouble and I’ll spill about my living arrangements. What can it hurt?”
She stared at him for several moments, then nodded. “It’s pretty common knowledge that this property in the hotel chain isn’t doing well financially. My father gave me six months to stop Blackwater Lake Lodge from hemorrhaging money or he’ll close it down.”
“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