Mr Right?. Stella Bagwell

Mr Right? - Stella  Bagwell


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from time to time. You wouldn’t want to meet up with any of those.”

      Glancing at the forest surrounding them, she said, “I’ve noticed the warnings signs on the hiking trails and read the information posted in the lodge.” She lifted one hand and shook a bracelet adorned with sleigh bells. “Just to be safe I wore a bear bracelet. I was told the sound would scare the creatures away.”

      “So they say.” He didn’t go on to tell her that as a teenager he’d had his own run-in with a black bear and that the sow had refused to back down until his brother had shot a round from his hunting rifle over the angry animal’s head. Scaring the woman would hardly be the way to entice her into further conversation.

      To Marshall’s surprise, she suddenly climbed down from the rock and stood within an arm’s length from him. The short distance was enough to give him a clear view of her face. High rounded cheekbones, a dainty dimpled chin and full lips were perfectly sculpted out of creamy skin. Her eyes, which appeared dark from a distance, were actually a blend of earthy green and brown, outlined by a thick fringe of jet-black lashes. Above them, delicate brows of the same color arched into a smooth, wide forehead. At the moment, the corners of her pink lips were curved faintly upward and Marshall could hardly tear his gaze away.

      “You’ve been mountain climbing?” she asked, her gaze sweeping past him to the mound of equipment he’d left beneath the rocky bluff.

      “Since this morning,” he answered. “I didn’t make it all the way to the top, but far enough for a good workout.”

      Her gaze pulled back to him and he could feel it sliding over his sweaty face and down to the damp patch in the middle of his black T-shirt. Normally when a woman looked at him, Marshall didn’t give it a second thought. But Ms. Heiress was studying him in a way that left him close to blushing. Something he hadn’t done since his sophomore year in high school.

      “I hiked up this far, but when I ran into the rock bluff I realized this would be as far as I could go,” she said a bit wistfully. “Is this something you do often?”

      His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and exposed a mouthful of snow-white teeth. “You mean, find a beautiful woman up in the mountains?”

      The faint flare of her nostrils said she didn’t appreciate his flirty question and Marshall inwardly sighed. He should have known the woman would be cool. Rich, pampered women usually were. The words friendly and down-to-earth probably weren’t in her vocabulary.

      “No. I mean rock climbing,” she said a bit curtly.

      “Oh. Well, actually I do quite a bit of climbing and hiking. Along with biking and kayaking. Once the snow leaves the slopes, that is.”

      She looked faintly interested and Marshall felt momentarily encouraged. Maybe the woman was approachable after all.

      “You obviously like outdoor sports,” she said.

      “Yeah. Skiing is my first love. I could do that every day of the year. But of course, my wallet would get pretty empty if I didn’t work once in a while,” he added with a grin.

      Like the flip of a light switch, her back went ramrod straight and her lips compressed to a tight line. Her gaze shifted from him to a magpie squawking from a branch on a nearby spruce tree. Apparently she preferred the bird’s talk to his.

      After a moment, she asked in a cool tone, “Or find a willing woman to pay for your sporting games.”

      Stunned by this abrupt change in her, Marshall stared at her profile. She might look like an exotic princess, but that didn’t mean he was going to let himself be insulted. Hadn’t she ever heard of a joke?

      “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

      Her head swiveled back around and she stared down her straight little nose at him. “Oh, come on, I’m sure you do this all the time. Strike up innocent conversations with single women, turn on the charm and eventually get your hand in their pocketbook. Isn’t that the way your game is played?”

      So she thought he was after her money. Marshall was so incensed he would have very much liked to turn her over his knee and whack that pretty little bottom of hers until she apologized. But he wasn’t about to use caveman tactics on a woman. She’d probably miss the point of a spanking anyway.

      “Sorry, Ms.—uh—Smith, isn’t it? Mia Smith?”

      A mixture of surprise and suspicion suddenly crossed her face. “How do you know my name?”

      “I’m Marshall Cates—the staff doctor for Thunder Canyon Resort. I’ve heard your name mentioned by some of the other staffers. And in case you didn’t know, there are people, like me, who can make it just fine in life without a pile of riches. My salary easily takes care of my wants. I certainly don’t need a woman to take care of me financially,” he added coolly.

      Completely stunned now, Mia stared at the man standing a few steps away. She’d assumed he was also a guest at the resort. She’d jumped to conclusions and figured he’d heard she was a single woman with money and thought she would probably be an easy prey to his good looks. To learn that he was a doctor at the resort—no doubt a well-to-do one—both rattled and embarrassed her.

      Hot color washed across her face as her fingertips flew up to press against her lips. Too bad she hadn’t kept them shut earlier, she thought. No telling what the man was thinking of her.

      “Oh, I—I’m sorry, Dr. Cates. I don’t know what else to say.” Glancing away from him she let out a loud, inward groan. Why couldn’t she do anything right anymore? Is that what inheriting money had done to her? Turned her into a mistrustful snob?

      Drawing in a deep, bracing breath, she turned her gaze back to him and once again felt the jolt of the man’s presence. He wasn’t just a good-looking guy in a pair of sweaty shorts and T-shirt. He was so masculine that she could almost feel the sexuality seeping from him. Waves of coffee-brown hair naturally streaked by the sun were tousled around his head. Eyes the color of a chocolate bar peered at her from beneath thick, hooded brows. A straight nose flared slightly over a pair of lips that at the moment were compressed into a tight, angry line. A faint shadow of evening stubble covered a strong jaw and a chin that jutted proudly forward, telling her more about his personality than his words.

      At the moment he appeared to be waiting for her to explain the meaning of her insulting comments and she supposed he deserved that much from her. Yet how could she really explain without telling the man things about her that she didn’t want anyone to know?

      “I thought— I took it for granted that you were a guest, Dr. Cates, and I was afraid— Well, you see I’ve had to deal with the problem of men…approaching me for financial reasons.” Her features crumpled with remorse. “I’m sorry I was so quick to misjudge you. Please accept my apology.”

      He continued to study her with a guarded eye and Mia realized he was weighing her words and her sincerity. She couldn’t blame him for that. Even so, she didn’t know why his opinion of her should matter so much. She wasn’t at Thunder Canyon Resort to find herself a man, even a respectable man like Dr. Cates. In fact, she’d run almost blindly to this area of Montana, hoping that no one from her past would be able to follow. She’d come here seeking peace and privacy, nothing more.

      “I’m curious, Ms. Smith. Just exactly what is it about me that made you think I was a gigolo?”

      More hot color washed up her neck and over her face and her gaze dropped guiltily to the toes of her hiking boots. “There wasn’t— You don’t look like a gigolo, Dr. Cates. I guess it was that flirty line about finding a beautiful woman in the mountains that set my alarm bell off.”

      She glanced up to see the doctor folding his arms across his chest while studying her with curious amusement.

      “I’m sure a woman like you runs into flirty men on a daily basis. I hope you don’t insult them all the way you just did me.”

      So he wasn’t going to make this easy for her, Mia thought. Well, it


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