EXCERPT

Chapter One

The door to Dr. Dillon Traub's office at the infirmary in the lodge suddenly flew open. A tall, husky man carrying a boy of about eight rushed inside. "You've got to do something, Doc. I can't find his Epi-pen."

A second later, Erika Rodriquez was beside the guest. "Collin's father thinks he's having a reaction to something he ate." Her words were quick and precise, yet she seemed calm.

As Dillon rose from his desk, their gazes collided and the zing he'd been experiencing ever since he'd met his receptionist hit him full force. Even now.

Pushing aside any thoughts other than those about this little boy, Dillon took Collin into his own arms and ran into a well-equipped exam room. "Call 9-1-1," he shot over his shoulder at Erika, experiencing the gut-wrenching ache he always felt when he was near a child in crisis...remembering when his own child had been in crisis.

"I already did," Erika called after him.

An internist, Dillon could handle almost any emergency that cropped up at Thunder Canyon Resort. Marshall Cates—the resident doctor here—had assured him not many did. So much for Marshall's assurances.

The boy's breathing was labored and his lips were blue. Dillon knew he had everything he needed to reverse the reaction if it wasn't too late.

Too late, echoed in his mind, as it had over the past three years.

It wouldn't be too late for this child.

"Hold on, Collin," Dillon said in a low voice as he laid the boy on the table.

Expertly assessing Collin's height and weight, Dillon grabbed an Epi-pen with the appropriate dosage from the medicine cabinet. Instants later, he'd administered it, pulled over the oxygen tank and let Collin breathe it in through the tube in his nose. Erika assisted any way she could while Dillon ran an IV line. All the while, Dillon monitored the little boy's pulse, checked his breathing, comforted him in low tones and prayed for the anaphalactic reaction to reverse.

Dillon was aware of Erika beside him. He'd been too aware of her since he'd briefly met her on his vacation here in June. When he'd accepted Marshall Cates' offer to take over as staff doctor for the month of September while Marshall was away, Grant Clifton, the resort's manager, had assigned Erika to be his receptionist. Since then, Dillon's awareness of her had revved up into something even more disturbing—desire.

Erika had never had any medical training but seemed able to take on any assignment she was given with a competence that made her a valued employee in Grant's eyes. She was wearing more than one hat because of budget cuts. Those same budget cuts had made it necessary for Ruthann, Marshall's nurse, to come on duty when Dillon went off. Not that he was really ever off. Essentially he was on-call twenty-four hours a day unless the retired physician in town covered for him.

Now Erika suddenly glanced toward the hallway, her long dark brown, wavy hair sliding over her shoulder. "I hear the sirens. The paramedics are coming."

Collin's father at the boy's shoulder murmured, "Thank God."

Dillon checked Collin's fingernails and was relieved to see the blue was receding. He examined his lips. They were pinker. "I know you're scared, Collin," he said clasping the child's arm. "But everything's going to be okay."

Collin's hazel eyes darted to Dillon's face.

"You can breathe easier now, can't you?"

Collin nodded, then reached his hand out for his dad who took it and squeezed it tightly. The husky man's brow was beaded with sweat and he looked as if emotion was choking his throat. Finally he managed to say, "He's all I have."

Erika moved closer to Dillon. "This is Mr. Chuck Lindstrom."

As Dillon leaned down to Erika, her breath swept his jawline. Her scent was light and tempting. When his cheek almost brushed hers, she turned her head and her dark eyes stayed steady on his. For a moment, a rippling intensity skittered back and forth between them.

Then Dillon broke eye contact and reached out his hand to the lodge's guest. "Mr. Lindstrom, I'm Doctor Traub. I'll follow along to the hospital to make sure all goes smoothly as soon as I give my nurse a call so she can cover."

"I'll call her," Erika offered. "She's due in soon, so she's probably around the resort.

Erika moved away from Dillon's side, her figure trim in her navy suit. Her skirt was just the right length to be professional and her white silky blouse had a scooped neckline that showed off her beautiful olive skin.

She'd almost reached the door when Dillon caught the sound of voices and the clang of a gurney. All at once, there the paramedics were—ready to handle an emergency...ready to take care of Collin.

Dillon was so grateful that Erika's calm handling of the crisis, as well as his ministrations, had saved Collin's life. He wished recovery was an outcome for every sick child.

Yet he knew it wasn't.

#

At her desk, Erika suddenly went on alert a few hours later. She recognized the bootfalls of Dr. Dillon Traub as he strode up the hall to the infirmary. She had heard he was the heir of an oil fortune. Western-cut suits that impeccably fit his broad shoulders, fine leather boots, as well as the oil fortune were all good reasons to stay away from him. Ever since she'd met him in June and chemistry had rippled between them, she'd known becoming involved with him would be trouble.

Not to worry, she reassured herself. She was sure he wouldn't be interested in her at all if he knew she had a child...a child out of wedlock...a child she loved more than life itself. From her experience, men didn't tackle responsibility willingly.

Now as Dillon appeared in the doorway to the infirmary suite's reception area, Erika noticed his tawny blond hair looked as if he'd run his fingers through it. It had a wave that styling couldn't deny.

He wasn't smiling, and she worried that Collin had taken a turn for the worse. "Is Collin okay?"

Dillon's gaze held hers. "Collin's doing great. And I also want to tell you that you handled yourself and the emergency terrifically well. But we've got a problem. Mr. Lindstrom's talking about suing the resort."

Dillon's praise meant a lot. Simply because she wanted a promotion, she assured herself. "Suing the resort? Why?" she asked.

Crossing to her desk, Dillon stopped at the corner. "The kitchen has been making Collin special meals because of his food allergies. Collin said he ate his lunch right before the attack. Mr. Lindstrom is convinced there was a nut residue in the salad. He assured me he has enough money to keep the resort tied up in lawsuits for years."

"Does he want a settlement?"

"I don't think so. I think he just wants to make sure it doesn't happen to anyone else."

"But if he sues the resort—"

"I know. These are tough times. Resort reservations are down considerably, especially for September. I'll have to speak with Grant about it."

Mr. Clifton had hired Erika and seen promise in her. She couldn't say "no" when he'd asked her to be Dillon's receptionist because she took on as much work as she could and did every job as well as she could for one reason—she wanted a promotion. She needed a promotion. That's why, in addition to being a receptionist to Dillon—which wasn't always a very busy position—she was managing the Frontier Days Festival scheduled for the fourth weekend in September. It was a huge project for her, but Mr. Clifton had said he had confidence in her abilities. If she could be promoted from receptionist to even guest room manager, she'd have more to spend on her monthly budget...more to save for Emilia's future.

Erika noticed the deepened lines around Dillon's eyes and didn't believe the lawsuit was the only matter pressing on him. "Collin won't have after-effects from today, will he?"

"I hope not."

Was that pain in Dillon's eyes? Turmoil? About what?

She broke eye contact, feeling that little tummy-thrill that happened whenever Dillon was around. She instinctively knew if she kept gazing into his eyes, almost anything could happen. She couldn't let anything happen. After Scott Spencerman had left her pregnant, she'd made a plan for her life and Emilia's. She would not veer from her course no matter what the gossips in town said about her. She intended to be the independent woman she knew she could be.

Putting the brakes on the course of their conversation, Dillon reached across the desk and tapped the notepad in front of her, obviously wanting to change the subject. She'd doodled guitars and cowboy hats and a pair of boots.

"What's this?"

"I was just trying to decide what to do next." Should she confide in Dillon Traub? Why not? This wasn't anything personal. After the gossip fest the town had participated in about her, she kept everything personal away from her professional life. That's why there were no pictures of Emilia or her mother on her desk.

"It's Frontier Days," she admitted.

"Problems?"

"For the most part, everything is falling in line. I feel I have a handle on events in town as well as guest-stay enhancements here. There's just one element that's missing and I can't seem to do anything about it."

"What element?"

Since Dillon seemed to be truly interested, she told him. "The entertainment. I wanted to have a really great draw...like a well-known country singer. I've called every manager I could find. I even have the county arena at the Fairgrounds lined up for that Saturday night. But I don't have a star to perform there. I'm still hoping, though, because a few managers haven't told me 'no' yet."

For a moment, Dillon seemed about to say something, but then he didn't.

"I'm a little worried about the weather, too," she went on since he was listening—a trait she hadn't found in many men. "It can be unpredictable in September. I'm not planning summer activities in case the weather turns colder. Still, tourists will be in and out of the stores, sampling food from the chili booths, listening to campaign speeches with a lot more enthusiasm if we're having Indian Summer. I've made alternative plans for everything, but the best laid plans..."

Dillon seemed to relax a little and sat casually on the corner of her desk. "The resort needs tourists before the ski season starts to fill vacancies and the town needs them to support Thunder Canyon businesses."
"That's why I planned Frontier Days for late in the month. The candidates for mayor seemed pleased with that, too, so they could rev up their campaigns for the November election."

"You've thought of everything."

She felt color rising from her neck to her cheeks. "Not really."

Electrically charged ripples hung in the air as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"Is Ruthann here?" Dillon asked, seemingly out of the blue.

"She's back in her office."

He nodded. "I'll check in with her before I leave for my supper break. How would you like to get a bite to eat with me?"

Had the crisis they'd experienced together shaken him up, too? Did he want to talk about the lawsuit? It was after five and technically Erika was finished for the day. Her mother, who was an elementary school teacher, had picked up Emilia from the neighborhood daycare center as she did most days and Erika knew her mom wouldn't mind babysitting a little longer if she called her.

She was so tempted by Dillon's offer. For the past three years, she'd shunned dating and steered clear of men. No man had ever made her heart race like Dillon did, not even Scott Spencerman. Was that a good or bad thing? She'd fallen for Scott's charming flattery, as well as his suave businessman persona.
Dillon didn't give idle compliments. He just—

Made her feel like a woman? Made her feel alive? Made her feel as if she were missing something?

What harm could one dinner do? And it could be a test to see just what kind of man Dillon was. "Can you get away from here?" she asked. There were many good restaurants at the resort which was scattered across the mountain, but she wanted to see Dillon in a different atmosphere.

"What did you have in mind?"

"How about the Hitching Post in town? Nothing else is quite like it. Have you spent any time there?"

Dillon's grin was mischievous. "I'm not sure I should tell you something you might be able to use as blackmail, but I think you have a kind nature," he joked.

This was the first she'd seen Dillon like this, light without the seriousness of his position.

"I promise I'll be discreet," she assured him. She knew how much gossip could hurt.

He leaned a bit closer...in confidential mode. "Over the years, I've wandered in and out of the Hitching Post with my cousins, Dax and D.J."

She breathed in a trace scent of Dillon and soap that practically made her head spin. The Texas emblem on his bolo tie lay just below his shirt collar. How much time had Dillon spent in Montana? If she asked personal questions, he'd feel as if he could get personal with her. Better not open that book.

"The Hitching Post is fine with me," he offered with a smile that could easily curl her toes if she let it. He was one sexy, attractive Texan with that defined jaw, golden brown eyes and sandy blond hair. Yet he didn't seem to be a player. He had confidence but not the arrogance some men emanated because they thought they could hook any woman they crooked their finger at.

Erika was about to confirm their date, when Stacy Gillette appeared in the doorway. A pretty brunette, Stacy was one of the social directors at the resort. She was lithe and friendly and always seemed to have a smile. But then Erika supposed Stacy didn't have a reputation to repair or something to prove.

Dillon's face lit up when he saw the social director. "Hi, Stacy. I haven't seen you around since I arrived. I was hoping we'd connect." He gave Stacy a huge hug and a light kiss.

That kiss and his familiarity with the social director bothered Erika and she knew it shouldn't.

Turning to Erika, Dillon said, "I met Stacy in Thunder Canyon when I was a kid."

Stacy was beaming, too, as if seeing Dillon was the highlight in her day, maybe her month or year. The social director nodded to Erika, acknowledging her. The women had that kind of nodding acquaintance. Erika didn't have many friends on staff because of the gossip that had followed her...because she didn't want to invite more or confide anything that could be used against her. The one friend she'd made recently at the resort was Erin Castro, a newcomer to Thunder Canyon. For that reason, Erika felt comfortable with her.

Stacy addressed Dillon. "I thought I'd drop by and if you were still here, see if you wanted to go to dinner."

"I have a commitment tonight," he said, without glancing at Erika, even though she hadn't given him a final answer yet. "How about tomorrow?"

"That sounds great," Stacy agreed. She gave his arm a playful jab. "Then you can catch me up on what the great doctor's been doing in Midland...besides working. I won't keep you. See you tomorrow," she said, then with a wave and with another flashing smile, she was gone.

Dillon's gaze returned to Erika's. "I do have a commitment tonight, don't I?"

Were he and Stacy simply childhood friends? Or did he date more than one woman at a time?

One meal. She could see if he really was a regular guy. Or if he was a player like Scott had turned out to be.
"Yes," she answered, rolling her chair away from her desk. "I'll gather my things and meet you at the Hitching Post."

Straightening, he nodded. "See you there."

Erika hoped to high heaven she wasn't accepting an invitation she'd regret.

#

Erika opened the door to the Hitching Post and stepped inside, troubled by her phone conversation with her mother. Her mom didn't mind watching Emilia a little longer. She loved spending time with her granddaughter. But when Erika had told her she was having a bite to eat with Dr. Traub, the cold silence had been obvious.

Erika had assured her, "It's just a bite to eat," and explained about the emergency with Collin. Still, her mom's attitude had been more than a little concerned and Erika knew why. After all, her romance with Scott had put them both through the wringer.

At twenty-three, she'd been working as a receptionist in a real estate office in town. Scott had bought one of the condos at Thunder Canyon Resort and intended to spend his spare time there. She'd spent spare time there with him, believing she was totally in love. He'd been polished, flattering, and she'd fallen for him hook, line and sinker. She should have had a clue when he didn't particularly want to be seen in public with her. But red flags hadn't been on her mind. She'd never forget the expression on his face when she'd told him she was pregnant. Total disdain. He'd sublet his condo the next week, left, and given her the very absolute message that he wanted no part of her...or her baby. He'd used her and discarded her, and her mother had helped pick up the pieces. Erika would never forget any of it and the whispers that she'd been looking for a way up in life...that Scott was her ticket and she was a gold-digger.

Since then, she'd made sure her behavior had been impeccable.

But now here she was, having dinner with Dr. Traub. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she should only think about Emilia and no one else.

The Hitching Post's flavor hit Erika as soon as she stepped inside. There was a beautiful walnut bar to her right, full-up now as diners jockeyed for tables or finished conversations from Happy Hour. When she'd invited Dillon to come here, she'd forgotten about that painting of Lily Devine above the bar. She'd been painted almost-nude, except for a bit of diaphanous cloth. What had Erika been thinking?

She'd been thinking that maybe Dillon wouldn't fit in with beer, peanuts and honky-tonk music and she could dismiss the chemistry she felt between them.

When she spotted him, her heartbeats tripped over each other. He'd gotten to his feet. In his suit, he stood out. Most everyone here was dressed casually. But something about his appearance was different and she suddenly realized what it was. He'd discarded his tie and opened the collar of his shirt. Hot enough in his fine suit, that open collar made him look worldly and, oh, so sexy. Hello. She'd already known she was attracted to him, but now attraction took on a whole new meaning.

She'd have something to eat and be gone.

When she reached the table, he smiled and she couldn't help but smile back. Although formality was left at the door at the Hitching Post, Dillon pulled out her chair for her.

Don't fall for good manners, she chided herself. Though searching her memory bank, she realized Scott had never pulled out a chair for her.

After they were both seated, Dillon said, "The waitress came around but I didn't want to order for you." He raised his hand and caught a server's attention.

A redhead with a long ponytail hurried over. "Ready now?" she asked enthusiastically, eyeing Dillon.

Dillon motioned for Erika to go first and she ordered cola with a twist of lime. She needed caffeine tonight. She had work to do after Emilia went to bed. Dillon ordered soda, too, instead of something with liquor. Then she remembered that he was on-call. So much for the see-if-he-likes-beer test.

Country music blared from the jukebox and a few of the patrons had started a line dance. Dillon smiled again. "I never could get the hang of that. I think I have two left feet."

"But you've tried it?"

"Oh, sure. Country's big in Texas, too."

She blushed. She should have realized that. "Do you like country?"

"Some. I like jazz, Nickelback and Paul McCartney, too."

And so the conversation went as they ordered, waited a short time, and then enjoyed their meals. Knowing a big meal would make her sleepy and that was the last thing she needed, she ordered a taco salad. But Dillon dug into his ribs and cole slaw like an enthusiast. His plate was empty before she'd finished.

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it down beside his plate. "I've got to admit, the ribs here are good, but D.J.'s are better."

She should have made the connection right away. D.J. Traub owned the Rib Shack, located near the lodge. Actually, he not only owned the Rib Shack at the resort, but other Rib Shacks across the U.S. From what she knew of D.J. and his brother Dax, they hadn't come from wealth. They'd both found their niche and made the most of it. She wasn't going to hide the fact that she knew Dillon was indeed more than a doctor.

"Tell me why you went into medicine," she requested. "From the rumors I've heard, you could have been CEO of the company your father started."

He arched a brow, but didn't look upset or annoyed at her question. "There are a ton of reasons why I wasn't the one to manage Traub Oil Industries. My mother took over the business after dad died. My brother Ethan is the CFO now and he fits the part."

There was obviously a story there, but Dillon didn't seem about to confide in her. Of course not. They didn't know each other.

However, he surprised her when he added, "My father died on an oil rig when I was twelve. He took a fall and his injuries were serious. Somehow as that twelve-year-old, I wondered if I had been a doctor, could I have saved him? That's the reason I went into medicine—to save patients from their family histories, from falls, from something insidious lurking around the corner."

She was remembering background details she'd heard about Dax and D.J. Traub and didn't know if she was stepping into territory where she shouldn't go or not. But Dillon had opened the door.

"Your cousins— Didn't their mom die when they were kids?"

"How I forget the gossip mill in Thunder Canyon," Dillon remarked with a rueful smile. "No one's history is private. To answer your question—Yes. I think losing a parent was one of the reasons we were close, even though I only saw them summers when we were growing up."

A country ballad began playing on the juke box. Dillon nodded to the familiar melody. "I think this conversation's gotten a little serious. Would you like to dance?"

She knew she should say no. But the urge to feel like a desirable woman again was strong. "Yes, I would," she replied.

Before she could rise to her feet, he was behind her chair, helping her up. He definitely was a gentleman...or a good pretender.

The dance floor was crowded and that made her feel more comfortable for some reason, probably because she didn't feel like a spectacle. No one she knew was in sight so she hoped the gossip club wouldn't be sharing a tidbit about her this week.

She had to admit, in her dreams she'd envisioned Dillon holding her. But the real deal was something else entirely. As soon as his arm went around her and his large hand took hers, she knew she was indeed in trouble. He was at least six inches taller than she was—the top of her head just came to his nose. In his arms she could feel the strength of his muscles. Did he work out? Dillon's thighs against her legs told her he might not only work out, but he was good at outdoor activities. At dinner he'd told her he tried to go riding many mornings. To top it all off, at this time of day, his jawline was becoming slightly stubbly. A scruffier look suited him.

When she looked up and her eyes collided into his interested brown ones, nerves in her body tingled that she didn't even know she had.

Too much...too soon...too fast.

After taking a deep breath, she eased away from him slightly to start another conversation. It was the only way she could distract herself from what was going on in her body, let alone the fantasies in her mind. He didn't try to hold her close, but kept his eyes on hers as she moved away. Those few inches mattered a lot. She could breathe a little easier. And think. What was wrong with her tonight? She'd been so calm and cool-headed ever since Scott.

"You said your mom took over your dad's business," she began. "I think that's wonderful."

"Lots of men in the company didn't share your opinion, but she made it clear they either had to come aboard with the program or they'd be gone."

"How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

"I have four brothers and one sister."

"Wow! Your mom handled all of you and a career, too?"

His silence told her this wasn't a question he was comfortable with, yet he didn't duck it. "Two years after my dad died, my mom remarried. Peter was working on the rig when my dad fell. He helped her through all of it and they got close."

His hand ruffled through the waves on her shoulders and she wondered if he did it to distract her. If he did, he was succeeding. "Today's the first you've worn your hair down," he noticed.

When she kept it tied back or in a chignon, she felt more professional.

But this morning, Emilia had spilled her cereal all over her clean outfit and had to be changed, so Erika had run out of time. "I was a bit rushed this morning so I let nature take its course."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to recall them. Nature. Attraction between a man and a woman was exactly what was going on here. They both knew it.

Dillon's thumb played teasingly against hers. The sensual sensation raised her temperature a couple of notches.

So she tried again with conversation. "Are you planning to spend much time with your cousins, now that you're here again?"

"Back to that, are we?" he asked teasingly.

"I'm just curious. There are so many stories floating around about Dax and D.J., their feud, their fist fight, the women they married. Were you part of all that?"

"No, I wasn't. I was involved in my practice."

Again something passed over his expression she couldn't decipher.

But he continued, "Vacations didn't fit in. But we did have a family reunion in June and we had a great time."

"Do they have children?" She shouldn't have asked, but she might as well know where he stood on that subject.

A shadow crossed Dillon's face. "Dax has a six-year-old and a two year-old. D.J.'s little boy is two, also. I haven't been around them much. But I'm looking forward to some time with them while I'm here."

Dillon's tone didn't match his words. He was being polite about it.

Erika's blood felt like ice water. All she could think was that he was another man who didn't like responsibility. He was another man who thought fatherhood would be a burden. He was another man who would be a mistake if she saw him again.

What was she doing here with Dillon Traub?

For the rest of the dance, she didn't look him in the eye. She pretended he could be any one of the men on the dance floor—no one special, no one sexy, no one who made her heart beat much too fast.
When the song ended, Erika was relieved, but Dillon didn't let her pull away. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just remembered—" No, she wasn't going to make an excuse. She wasn't going to lie to him. "I have to go, Dillon. Thanks for dinner but I do have to go."

Then she left him standing there, looking puzzled as she walked away. When she pushed open the door into the cooler September night air, she didn't look back.

Chapter Two

Dillon pulled money from his wallet and flicked it onto the table with his bill. What had gone wrong with Erika?

Just as he asked himself the question, he felt the vibration of his cell phone on his belt. Did someone at the resort need him?

When he pulled the phone from its holder, he checked the screen and smiled. "Hold on a sec, Corey, until I leave the restaurant."

Outside the door, Dillon took a deep breath, wondering why Erika's leaving had disappointed him so deeply. He didn't even know her. He shouldn't even think about knowing her. He was here for a month, then he'd be gone. Besides that, she had to be twelve or thirteen years younger than he was. Maybe that was the whole problem. She decided she'd rather be out with someone her own age.

Now, however, his mind went to his brother, holding the line from Midland, Texas. "Okay, now I can hear," Dillon said. "I was at the Hitching Post. You know how noisy that can get."

Corey laughed, a good old Texas chuckle. At thirty-three and six feet tall, light brown hair and brown eyes, his brother was the epitome of a Texas male. As a management consultant, he dressed stylishly when he chose to, but he was most at home in his boots and jeans. He'd spent some time with Dillon, their cousins and friends at the Hitching Post in June.

"What were you doing at the Hitching Post?" Corey asked. "Don't tell me you were trying to pick up somebody at Happy Hour? Not you."

Corey enjoyed women's company and didn't understand why Dillon still didn't date.

He and his brother had always been honest with each other. Although Ethan was between them in age, Corey and Dillon thought more alike on subjects other than women and had gotten to be better friends the older they'd grown.

So now when Corey asked, Dillon was honest. "I was here with someone."

There was a pause as if Corey was thinking about that. "With someone? Like the receptionist you met at the resort this summer?"

"You guessed that how?"

"I saw the way you looked at her when she led us to Marshall's office. But more than that, I saw the way she looked back."
"Yeah, well, she's not looking back now. We were having an enjoyable evening, then all of a sudden she froze up and left. I would have appreciated a hint as to what I did wrong."

"You'll probably never know," Corey empathized. "I don't understand women any more than you do. They're a species unto their own. They have a language I don't get—a language they want us to learn, yet they don't want to teach it to us. Some of them have a sisterhood so tight a man can't get a foot in. And then there are the independent ones. They're the worst."

This time Dillon laughed. "I think I'm talking with a man who wants complete control."

"I don't want control." Corey's silence meant he was thinking about what Dillon had said. "Well, maybe I do. But don't women like rich, powerful men?"

"Some women do." After another pause, Dillon asked, "Did you call just to see how things are going here?"

"Partly. Actually I might be in Montana again in November. I'm thinking about staying at the resort. How do you like it there?"

"It's luxurious. Anything you might need is at your fingertips."

"But?" Corey asked perceptively.

"But if you're going to stay any length of time, you might want to rent one of the condos. Many of them are empty."

"So how do you like Marshall's practice?"

"A medical practice like this one could be any doctor's lifelong dream. I can even glimpse elk from the wall of windows in my office."

"Yet it's not your dream?"

"I can't dream any more, Corey."

The silence between them was telling and Dillon asked a clipped, "What?"

"You have to let go of the guilt. You'll never be happy again if you don't. For the millionth time, you had no control over Toby's leukemia."

"I don't want to talk about it." Thoughts of Dillon's four-and-a-half-year-old son who'd died were so bittersweet, he usually closed the door on them.

"All right. So let's talk about what you're going to do when your stint for Marshall is up. Are you going to accept that concierge practice in Odessa?"

The doctor who had offered Dillon the position in his concierge practice had put a sweet deal on the table. "I don't know. Taking care of the guests at the resort is a somewhat similar experience. I'm going to see how I like it before I make up my mind."

"Good idea. Don't jump in before you look at all the angles first. The truth is—I don't know if I can see you being at the beck and call of patients because they're paying you well for the opportunity to have you as their doctor. It just doesn't sound like you."

"I never thought I'd be here at the resort, taking over for Marshall, either."

Corey waited a beat before asking, "So you just ran into this Erika again?"

"Not exactly. She's my receptionist."

"Ah-hah! The plot thickens. Just how did she come to be your receptionist?"

"Grant assigned her. I'm not taking up all her time. It's pretty slow for her most days, but she's the one planning Frontier Days. That keeps her busy. Still she's working right outside my office all day, so we interact."

"I see. And tonight you decided to interact on a personal rather than business level?"

His brother's words brought back the image of him holding Erika in his arms, his hand under her hair, his other hand clasping hers. At first, as they'd danced, she'd been close enough to arouse him. But then she'd needed some space. He got that. They didn't know each other very well. But leaving as she had—

"Ask her," Corey suggested.

"Ask her what?"

"Ask her why she left. That's what you want to know, right? Maybe she's one of those rare women who will actually tell you the truth."
His silence was answer enough for Corey.

His brother offered, "Yeah, the Texas Traubs inherited as much pride as oil money. You know what Mom's always preached—pride comes before the fall. I think that means if you don't give up the pride, you're going to trip over something."

Purposely changing the subject again, Dillon asked, "Did you attend the family dinner on Sunday?"

"Oh, yeah. Peter was in great form, filling us all in on the latest board meeting. I swear he repeats every word verbatim."

"After all these years, we should realize Peter's not going to change," Dillon reminded his brother.

"Do you still think he's after Mom's money?" Corey asked.

The subject hadn't come up for a long while. When their mother had married Peter Wexler, Dillon hadn't known what to think. At fourteen, he was still grieving over his dad and couldn't imagine another man moving into his father's place. His mother had told them she needed help with six kids and running a business. Peter knew the business from the ground up and she'd teach him what he didn't know.

Dillon had heard the gossip at school as she'd dated Peter, then married him. The grapevine had debated over whether or not he was a gold digger. It chewed on the fact that Peter might have his own interests in mind, instead of Claudia's. It decided the oil rig foreman would take her money and leave her high and dry...but first he'd share the good life with her. Since Dillon hadn't been about to accept anyone sitting in his father's chair at the table, he'd rebelled big time. He'd stayed away from Peter as much as he could, making sure he participated in after-school sports, studied someplace other than home, and spent summers in Montana. He'd told himself constantly he only had to live through four years because then he'd be in college and on his own. And that's what had happened. He and Peter had settled into a kind of truce, but they'd never become close, never become a father and son.

Away from all of it now, Dillon finally answered Corey's question. "He has stuck around for twenty-five years and put up with our attitude, so I'm not sure any more."

"Well, whether he married her for her money or not, he can never fill Dad's shoes."

Their father had been tall and lean and strong. Dillon could remember being lifted in those arms, taught how to ride a horse, taught how to sail, taught how to swim, taught how to be respectful and honest. Peter hadn't had a chance, being compared with their dad.

"We all have our own lives now. He's always seemed to make Mom happy and that's what important, right?" Dillon asked, still trying to convince himself.

"I guess," Corey agreed. After a pensive pause, he asked, "So what are you going to do about Erika?"

"Maybe I'll just do what you said and ask her why she left."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I'll talk to you soon," Dillon said.
After Corey echoed the same sentiments, he hung up.

Dillon attached his phone to his belt and strode to his SUV. Did he really want to find out why Erika had left? Why even bother when by the end of September, he'd be gone?

#

Early the next morning, Erika exited the women's locker room at the resort's gym. As always when she worked out, she dressed in a tank top, shorts, and sneakers. Today, red and black. With the schedule she was keeping, she had to allow herself at least a half hour three or four mornings to keep her body strong. For some reason, today it had been difficult to drop off Emilia at daycare. Her dinner with Dillon last night had stirred up pre-Scott Spencerman dreams—dreams of vows, shared goals, and most of all children who brought such joy to everyday life. Yet Dillon had squashed them with his lack of enthusiasm for children...the dark emotion in his eyes when she'd mentioned them.

Erika stopped short when she spied the object of her thoughts. Last night, Dillon had told her he liked to go horseback riding. But the weather was damp and rainy today, so he must have opted for the workout room instead. She wished she could just walk by him and forget last night had ever happened. But essentially, he was her boss and she couldn't.

He had spotted her, too.

He'd finished with one of the weight stations. Grabbing a towel from a nearby bench, he slung it around his neck.
She swallowed hard. His broad shoulders and slim waist told her he'd always been an athlete. He was wearing a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off and navy gym shorts that didn't hide his powerful thigh muscles. There was a dark patch of sweat on his chest and under his arms. His body glistened from his workout, but he didn't seem self-conscious about it, though he wasn't smiling now as they both took a few steps toward each other.

"I didn't expect to see you here this morning," he commented.

"I come in a few times each week."

"I thought I'd save my favorite horse a wet, muddy ride."

She might as well jump in to it. "I'm sorry I didn't pay my half of the bill last night. If you'd like—"

"Don't be silly. I asked you to dinner, remember?"

Oh, she remembered. Glancing at his body again, feeling heat creep through hers, she recalled exactly why she'd accepted his invitation.

"What did I say to make you run off?"

He was direct, that was for sure, and she liked that about him. She liked too many things. "It wasn't you, Dillon. Really."

"That's hard to believe."

When she didn't say more, he took another step closer, and now they were within touching distance. "You have circles under your eyes." He gently touched one of them with his thumb.

Erika trembled and she hoped he couldn't feel it. She'd never felt this kind of chemistry before. Taking a shaky breath, she decided just to give him a little bit of personal information. "I was up late last night studying. I'm taking an on-line management course. After all, I don't want to be a receptionist forever."

"So you raced home to study? I see. Would you like to do something like manage this whole resort some day?"

"Yes, I would. From everything I've seen here, I think I'd enjoy hotel management. Maybe if I do a great job with Frontier Days, I'll be promoted."

Dillon's gaze passed over her assessingly as if he was taking stock of her appearance and her intelligence, maybe even her age. Her shoulders squared and she knew she raised her chin, wondering what was coming next. Dillon had always been a gentleman, but they were alone here. Scott had taken advantage of any time they were alone to make a move on her.

But Dillon didn't engage in idle flattery. He asked, "Do you want to stay in Thunder Canyon or move on?"

"I haven't thought about leaving." After all, she had a child and a life to make. "Why do you ask?"
"Because you're young, intelligent, and beautiful. The whole world is open in front of you. Have you traveled at all?"

She shook her head.

"Do you want to?"

"Maybe some day, but now I have to make a living and I'm establishing roots. After all, this is where I was born and raised. Don't you feel that way about where you came from?"

"I think a career path can lead away from roots. If you want to become a resort manager, you could end up on a tropical island."

Maybe he felt as if he'd shared too much personal information with her last night because he hadn't answered her question. "I can't picture myself leaving Montana. I feel grounded here." She knew that mostly had to do with her mother and her daughter, but he didn't need to know that. "Have you traveled much?" she asked, curious about his life...curious about what being wealthy meant.

"I traveled before college, backpacked through Europe that summer."

"Your parents let you do that when you were so young?"

"Let's just say I was a responsible eighteen-year-old, and at eighteen my mother and stepfather couldn't really stop me. I needed to get away and that was the way I chose to do it."
Was he that rebellious, that uncaring of what his parents thought? "I bet they worried sick about you the whole time you were gone."

"My mother was busy managing my father's company. Her marriage to my stepfather was still fairly new. I didn't feel they'd miss me."

"But they did."

"I could tell my mother did by the way her face lit up and she hugged me when I got home. What about your parents? Do they live in Thunder Canyon?"

This was territory where she didn't want to go, but she took a few footsteps in. "My mother does. My father left when I was five and we never saw him again."

"I'm sorry," Dillon said sincerely. "I know how hard it is to lose a parent, no matter how that happens."

She wanted to touch him now, the same way he had touched her. She longed to slip her fingers through the wave of hair on his forehead, or touch the line of his jaw that seemed so strong and determined. But she knew she should do neither. She knew she should back away.

She actually did take a step back. "I have to start my routine so I can get to work on time."

"I won't keep you, then. I'll see you later in the office."

"Later...in the office," she agreed, then headed for the Stairmaster. She needed more than a sedate workout today. She needed to expend some real energy. That way she could forget how Dillon's thumb had felt on her cheek. She could forget the way his body turned her on. She could forget the way she'd felt when he'd held her in his arms.

#

Late that afternoon, Erika studied the firmed-up details for Frontier Days. She found she accomplished more when Dillon wasn't in his office. His presence distracted her no matter how she tried to focus. That was unusual. She was usually good at focusing.

She heard the light footsteps in the hall and looked up when Stacy strolled in.

Dillon's "friend"—that's how Erika thought of her—stopped at her desk. "Is Dillon in?"

"Not right now. He's in a meeting upstairs. Would you like me to page him?"

Stacy didn't seem perturbed. "No. I'll see him soon enough."

A dinner date tonight?

As Stacy left the reception area, Erika told herself once more she shouldn't care what Stacy and Dillon meant to each other. But she did.

Time to focus again.

Turning to the computer, she printed out the schedule of events for Frontier Days. She was lifting the last page from the machine when she heard Dillon's bootfalls. Readying herself for his return, she took a deep breath as he strode in. Right away she noticed the grim expression on his face. His gaze met hers when he stopped by her desk.

"Is something wrong?" She didn't know why her voice wobbled a little but it did.

"We have a big problem. I had a meeting with Collin's father. I can't talk him out of suing the resort. The whole situation is a mess. He's already called his lawyer and the resort is going to have to do the same. I have a meeting with Grant tomorrow morning. He's not going to be happy about this."

"Will the resort really be in trouble?" She could be out of a job in a minute if it was.

"Legal fees add up. Guest numbers are down. The resort still has its main expenses. Grant might have to think about cutting guest perks."

Erika suddenly heard noise in the hall—adult feet, the patter of little feet. Dillon turned toward the doorway just as Erika's mother and daughter entered in a burst of activity. That activity was Emilia. She was doing a combination of hopping and running in place.

As soon as she saw Erika, she pulled away from her grandmother and practically flew to Erika calling, "Mommee! Mommee!"

Erika opened her arms as her daughter launched herself at her. She felt the joy she always felt when she held Emilia close to her heart. After a few moments of mother-daughter bonding, Erika peered over her daughter's head at Dillon. His face showed surprise and then dawning understanding.

She had to say something. "Dillon, this is my mother, Constance Rodriguez and my daughter Emilia."

Dillon first shook her mother's hand. "It's good to meet you." Then he turned to Emilia. "Hi, there."

Emilia turned into Erika's shoulder shyly but peeked up at Dillon.

"Say hello, baby," Erika encouraged her daughter.

Emilia opened one eye, rubbed her nose in Erika's shoulder, then grinned at Dillon.

"I can tell you're going to be a heart-breaker," he said. "Are you around two years old?"

"Soon," Erika offered. "In a few weeks."

Constance crossed to Erika and her granddaughter protectively. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything important. But I had a half-day today and decided to pick up Emilia so we could have some quality time together. And speaking of time," she said to Erika, "when will you be home?" She addressed Dillon. "Erika puts in such long hours. I hope someone appreciates it."

"Mom!" Erika was obviously embarrassed by her mother's comment.

Dillon stepped in. "I think her hours are long because she's taken on two jobs--being my receptionist as well as the coordinator for Frontier Days. I try not to keep her past five but I've noticed she stays later many days."

"You leave at five?" Erika's mother asked.

"Usually. Unless I have a patient. But I'm on-call in the evenings although I'm not in the office."

"Do you live here?" her mother inquired and Erika wanted to crawl under the desk. She tried again in a warning tone, "MomY"

Dillon glanced from mother to daughter. "I live in a suite upstairs. That seems to be the best way to keep me available to the guests."

"I see." Her mother was obviously absorbing it all. Had she stopped in today to meet Dillon because Erika had gone to dinner with him?

Emilia squiggled to be let down.

Erika didn't want to let her daughter run free but there was little she could get into in the waiting area except magazines on the coffee table.

As Dillon watched the toddler, he commented to Constance, "Erika didn't mention she had a daughter."

"Erika likes to keep her personal life to herself," Constance answered.

Erika noticed Dillon's gaze pass over her desk where no pictures or any personal effects were displayed and she could see the questions in his eyes. But she couldn't answer them here and now and didn't even know if she wanted to. He'd probably run in the other direction if he knew her history. He was so polished, so confident, so sure of his place in life. In so many ways he reminded her of Scott. Yet when she was alone with himY

Her gaze collided with his. Everything seemed to go quiet except for the beating of her heart.

Suddenly Emilia tired of pushing magazines on the coffee table. She ran for Erika but at the last minute detoured and headed for Dillon instead. She ran into his leg and he caught her so she wouldn't fall.

The toddler looked up at him and giggled as if what she'd done was great fun.

Erika stooped and caught Emilia again, lifting her high in the air. Emilia raised her arms and waved them. "Mommee, mommee. Fwy!"

Erika explained, "She likes to pretend she's flying. Instead of giving her daughter her way, Erika shook her head. "Not here. We'll fly at home."

The phone on Dillon's belt chimed. "Excuse me," he said, watching Erika with Emilia. He glanced at the caller ID. "I have to take this." He spoke into the phone. "Just a minute, Grant." Turning to Erika's mother, he smiled. "It was good to meet you, Mrs. Rodriguez."

"It was good to meet you, too, Dr. Traub."

Then Dillon came very close to Erika and gently ran his hand over Emilia's hair. "It was a pleasure meeting you, too, little one." His gaze was so tender yet filled with a deep emotion Erika couldn't read.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said to Erika. "Go ahead and leave. You were here early and put in a long day. Ruthann can handle any calls coming in now."

With a last wave for Emilia, he disappeared down the hall and into his office.

"You like him," her mother whispered to her. "That's dangerous."

"Don't worry, Mom. I learned my lesson the last time."

"I hope so." Her mother still looked worried.

Erika knew liking Dillon Traub was not going anywhere. She had even more to lose now than she had three years ago. She would not let a man ruin her life again.

#

At D.J.'s Rib Shack that evening, Stacy tilted her head and asked Dillon, "How often can you get away from the lodge?"

They'd been catching up through a dinner of ribs and cornbread. "I'm not chained here," he joked. "But I was hired to treat the guests so I don't like to go too far. If I do want to go out for an evening, I can give Dr. Babchek a call. He's retired and can back me up if Ruthann needs him."

D.J.'s wasn't far from the main lodge. The Rib Shack was nestled in among boutiques.

Dillon glanced at the mural on the wall of the restaurant, the one D.J.'s wife Allaire had painted. For some reason, thinking about D.J. and Allaire and their two-year-old turned Dillon's thoughts to Erika and Emilia. Emilia was a miniature replica of her mother, glossy wavy hair, big dark eyes. She was a beautiful child and Erika was a beautiful woman. Dillon sensed there was a lot more to his receptionist than met the eye. She seemed mature beyond her twenty-six years, unless he was just trying to fool himself.

"Dillon?" he heard Stacy say.

"Yes."

"I asked if you've seen D.J. and Allaire since you've been back this time."

"Not yet. But soon, I hope."

"What were you thinking about?" the perceptive social director asked. "You seemed miles away."

"Not so many miles." Studying Stacy, he said, "I was thinking about my receptionist, Erika Rodriguez. Before I left the office tonight, her mother came in with her little girl. I didn't know she had a child and I wondered why she kept it a secret."

"Emilia's not a secret," Stacy murmured.

It was the way Stacy said it that made Dillon take notice. "Is there a hidden meaning there?"

Stacy hesitated and Dillon suspected why. She wasn't the type of woman who liked to gossip, but he wanted to know more about Erika and he wasn't sure she'd tell him herself. "I don't want you to reveal anything you shouldn't," he assured her.

"Can I ask why you want to know?"

What should he say? I'm interested in her, when he was trying to deny that fact himself? "We'll be working together this month. I'd feel better knowing something about her background."

Toying with a morsel of cornbread still on her plate, Stacy finally shrugged. "I suppose it won't hurt to tell you. Most of Thunder Canyon knows her story."

"Her story?"

"Oh, Dillon, you know how gossip spreads in small towns, especially here in Thunder Canyon. I'm sure tomorrow at the resort several people will ask me about my dinner with you."

"You're kidding."

She shook her head. "Think about the feud between Dax and D.J. and how that was all over town for years, especially after Dax and Allaire got a divorce and then D.J. started seeing her."

"Water under the bridge," Dillon muttered, knowing both of his cousins were extremely happy now. They'd settled their feud and actually become brothers. Not only that, but each had found the right woman to make them happy.

"Yeah, but that water has a lot of debris in it." Stacy pushed back her plate and propped her chin on her hand. "Erika was run through the gossip mill from one end of town to the other. After high school she waitressed for a while and took a couple of business classes in Bozeman. She'd settled into a job as a receptionist for a real estate agency in Thunder Canyon when the boom took off. I think she intended to get her real estate license eventually and start moving up. Then a businessman named Scott Spencerman came to town. He found a condo through Erika's agency, one here at the resort. Erika was only twenty-two. He was forty, but she caught his eye. He flattered her and charmed her, gave her presents, but didn't particularly take her out in public much, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't know what you mean. If he cared about her—"

"She cared about him. She thought she was in love with him. He was a businessman who traveled a lot and only wanted the condo here for skiing in the winter, and maybe some hiking in the summer. He didn't want a life here. He wanted entertainment while he was here."

"Stacy—"

"You asked," she drawled.

After a long pause, he asked, "So what was the gossip about?" He felt annoyed that people couldn't keep their noses where they belonged.

"The rumor was that Erika was a gold digger who took up with Spencerman for what he could give her."

"Is he still around?"

Goodness, no. When Erika found herself pregnant, he sublet his condo and disappeared. I don't know what really happened. I don't know if anyone does. But Erika was out of work after Emilia was born and I think things got pretty rough. Now she barely talks to anyone while she works and leads a very private life. No one really knows if the gold digging rumors were true or not. Many people thought she got what she deserved."

"A child and heartache?" Dillon asked. "Just what kind of people live here?" Dillon had met women who wanted to date him because of what he had rather than who he was. Erika didn't seem like that type at all. Could a whole town be wrong?

He thought about his mother and stepfather. Could a whole family be wrong?

"Are you interested in Erika?" Stacy asked, surprised. He supposed that was because she knew he hadn't dated since he and Megan divorced.

"Will you tell me she's after my money if I say I am?"

"No. But I'll tell you to watch your back and your heart." She reached across the table and clasped his hand. "I know what you've been through—losing Toby and then your divorce. We're friends, Dillon. We have been since we were kids. I don't want to see you get hurt."

He smiled and shrugged off her concern. "How can I possibly get hurt? I'm only going to be here a month and then I'll be returning to Texas."

"A lot can happen in a month," Stacy prophesied.

Part of him hoped her prediction was wrong. The other part of him hoped she was right. He felt as if he'd been living in a bunker since Toby died...since Megan had left. In his group practice with three other doctors, he'd seen patients and dealt with insurance companies until he was too tired to see straight. Each night he'd gone home and collapsed, many nights falling asleep on the couch with the television blaring so it overrode his thoughts.

Erika has a child, he reminded himself.

Maybe Corey was right and it was time for him to leave his bunker...to bury his regrets and the guilt that he couldn't save his son.

Maybe the time had also come to spend a little time around kids—to see if his heart would still feel as if it was breaking when he did.

Copyright: 2010 by Harlequin Books
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.