Montana Standoff. Nadia Nichols

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СКАЧАТЬ sorry. My intention wasn’t to make a fool out of you.”

      “You didn’t have to,” Molly said. “I did that all by myself. A colleague of mine was supposed to cover this meeting but he got sick at the last minute. Another colleague asked me to go in his place and gave me the wrong file to study. This was my first real assignment, my first chance to prove myself to the firm, and I sure as hell dropped the ball.” Molly drew a deep breath and tried not to let the tears that were stinging in her eyes get the best of her. This wasn’t the end of the world, or the end of her career as a lawyer. She would explain to Skelton what had happened, and he’d understand, give her another chance.

      But what if he didn’t?

      “I think you should get checked out at the hospital in Bozeman,” Steven said. “Just to make sure you’re all right.”

      “For the hundredth time, I’m fine. The only thing that was seriously hurt tonight was my ego.”

      He said nothing to this, just drove on, while Molly slipped off her shoes, massaged her aching feet and wondered how she would ever save face after such a disastrous performance. The Jeep slowed and pulled over onto the shoulder, nosing downward just enough to illuminate the ditch. She stared at her car and felt a deepening sense of despair. “You’re lucky you weren’t seriously hurt,” he said, startling her out of her morose reverie. “Well, it’s pitch dark, I don’t have a tow rope, and you shouldn’t be driving even if I could pull your car out of the ditch.”

      “I’m perfectly capable of—”

      “It’s way past suppertime,” he said. “Let’s get something to eat and worry about your car tomorrow.”

      She hesitated. “That sounds nice, Mr. Young Bear, and you’re right, I’m starving. But I’m sure you’ll understand why I really don’t want to be seen in public. If you could just drop me off at the hotel by the airport in Bozeman, I’ll order up room service tonight and have my car towed out of the ditch in the morning.”

      “You’re forgetting one small matter,” Steven said. “The bee that stung you left its stinger in your cheek.”

      Molly raised her fingertips to touch the spot gingerly. “How do you know?”

      “I saw it,” he said, and pulled back out onto the road.

      STEVENYOUNG BEAR TOOK HER to his house in Gallatin Gateway. She sat on a sofa in the living room while he mixed her a gin and tonic. He refused all offers of help and so Molly allowed herself to be tended to by a man she hardly knew. She felt so inexplicably comfortable in Steven’s presence that it seemed the most natural thing in the world to be curled up here on his sofa. He came out of the kitchen and pressed a cold glass in her hand. She sipped. Beefeater. Schweppes. Big slice of lime. Delicious.

      “Thank you,” she said, but he was already gone. She heard noises behind her in the kitchen. Pans rattling. The sudden poofing sound of a gas burner being lit on a cookstove. Not only was he disconcertingly handsome, but she was finding that there was far more to him than met the eye. He came back into the living room and set a plate down on the coffee table. “Appetizers,” he said. She picked up a thin sesame-seed cracker and nibbled. Tried a piece of sharp cheddar. Sat back and closed her eyes, wondering if all this was real or just a dream. Moments later, she heard the snap and crackle of a fire in the fireplace, smelled the fragrant tang of wood smoke and sighed with something very close to contentment. She was far happier curled up on this sofa than she would have been listening to a Stradivarius violin. She heard Steven enter the room and sat up. He was holding a small basin and a pair of tweezers.

      “Hold still,” he said, as he set the basin down and bent over her. “I’m going to remove the stinger and dab this poultice of baking soda and water on your cheek. It should help with the swelling.”

      She held obediently still for his first aid. “Thank you,” she repeated when he had finished. He didn’t reply, but went back to the kitchen. Soon she could smell intriguing aromas. He returned and laid another log on the fire, then disappeared back into the kitchen and made more domestic noises. She thought it was extraordinary that a man she hardly knew was cooking supper for her, especially under the circumstances. She took another sip of her drink and touched her fingertips to the poultice that Young Bear had applied to her swollen cheek. He was right. It already felt better.

      “I hope you like shrimp curry,” Steven said, coming from the kitchen with a plate of food and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her.

      “Never had it,” Molly admitted. “I’m a corned-beef-and-cabbage kind of a girl, but it smells wonderful.” She set her drink down, picked up the fork he’d laid beside the plate, and in a matter of minutes had cleaned it of the last grain of rice.

      “More?” he said.

      She sat back with a flush of embarrassment at how quickly she’d devoured the meal. “No, thank you. That was delicious and once again I can’t thank you enough.” She hesitated. “Forgive me, but I have to ask. Do you always wear a tuxedo when you go to public hearings?”

      “Only when they’re important,” he said.

      Molly laughed. “I have only one more favor to ask. Could you please call me a taxi to take me into Bozeman?”

      He picked up her plate and took it into the kitchen. “You’re welcome to stay in the guest room,” he said over the sound of running water. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Most law offices are closed, but the auto parts store will be open and we can pick up a tow rope. My Jeep should pull your car right out of that ditch.”

      Molly sat up, gripping her gin and tonic and wondering if she’d heard him right. “That’s way too much to ask,” she finally managed to say. “I’ll just take a taxi to the airport hotel. You’ve done more than enough as it is.” She rose to bring her glass into the kitchen but he beat her to it, appearing in front of her, taking it out of her hand, and replacing it with a plate.

      “Finish off the rest of the curry so I can wash the pan, and I’ll fix you another drink,” he said, as if offering her a fair trade.

      Molly sat back down, plate resting on her knees. She should insist that he call her a taxi, but the combined lure of the cheerful fire in the fireplace, the peaceful ambience of the house, and the company of this extraordinary man won out. “Thank you, Mr. Young Bear.”

      “Steven,” he corrected. “And you’re welcome.”

      STEVEN POURED HIMSELF another cup of coffee, dropped back into his chair and bent over the text he was studying. He took a taste of the strong black brew, read for a little while and then glanced up at the kitchen clock. Nine a.m., and not a peep from the guest room. He didn’t know if he should be relieved or concerned. Perhaps she was a late sleeper, or maybe she was allergic to bee stings and during the night had slipped into an irreversible coma. He walked into the living room, where he paused for a long moment outside the guestroom door, listening. Nothing. He gave a light tap. No response.

      “Molly?”

      Silence answered him and his anxiety deepened.

      The door opened smoothly when he turned the knob. She was lying on her back with the covers drawn up to her chin, fingers curled around the edge of the blanket, and red hair hiding the pillow beneath its fiery cascade. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing evenly. He closed the door, satisfied that she was alive but wondering how to wake her. He had work to do. He wanted to СКАЧАТЬ