Montana Standoff

Dani shrugged out of her blazer and draped it over the back of her chair. “Was this before or after the bee sting?”

“Almost simultaneously.”

“What’s the favor?”

“Could you please lend me your emerald earrings?”

Dani laughed and looked around for the waiter. “Hurry with that drink.”

“This is serious, Dani. With any luck, I’ll be spending the day with Steven tomorrow and I want to look especially nice, so any advice you have on what I should wear would be most appreciated. Fashion is definitely my failing.”

“Yes, I know that, but you’ve never taken my advice before, especially regarding fashion.”

“I always listen to what you have to say.”

Dani nodded her thanks to the waiter who delivered her drink. “No, you don’t. I advised you not to date John, remember? He was just one month divorced from his third victim when he asked you out.”

“Well, yes, you did warn me,” Molly admitted, beginning on another cocktail napkin, “but he seemed nice, and it’s not like there was anything serious between us. We went out once in a while, that’s all. It was better than eating dinner out alone, and I wasn’t looking for anything more serious than that. At least, not until yesterday.”

“Okay, so John’s history. That’s a relief. You got stung by a bee and met an incredible man at the same moment, and you’re thinking you may have just experienced love at first sight. Am I right?” Dani’s voice was as cynical as her expression.

Molly sat back in her chair, exasperated. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Are you going to tell me the whole story from the beginning?”

Molly did, speaking bluntly and not sparing herself in the least. “So you see,” she concluded, “I had no idea that Steven was the attorney representing the citizens of Moose Horn, and I made a complete idiot of myself in front of him…and in front of everyone else, too, for that matter.”

“Moose Horn?” Dani raised her drink for a taste and grimaced. “Uck. What on earth did you tell the bartender to put in this concoction?”

“Skelton will probably fire me after this.”

“It isn’t your fault that Tom gave you the wrong file. What a rotten thing for him to do! I warned you about that guy, too, remember?” As Dani spoke, she held her glass up to the light to study the contents. “He used to work with the Downing firm, but they dismissed him after several clerks complained of sexual harassment.”

“He’s asked me out a couple of times,” Molly admitted. “I think giving me the wrong file was his way of getting back at me for not saying yes.”

“Slimy creep,” Dani said, trying another sip, making another face. “He’s the one who should be fired.”

“Actually, he’s being transferred, but I really don’t want to talk about Tom.”

“No, of course not. You want to talk about the wonderful man you met last night. Steven. Continue. You made an idiot of yourself, and then what happened?” Dani looked around again and waved to the waiter. “I’ll have my usual,” she called across the small room. “The avocado, vegetable and sprouts wrap, no mayo.” The waiter waved back, acknowledging the order from across the small room.

“He rescued me from the hostile citizens after the meeting and gave me a ride to his place…”

“Hold on. Do I really need to hear how he had his way with you on your first unofficial date?”

“…because my car was stuck in a very deep ditch, which I drove into after being stung by the bee, and it was late, so he thought it would be better to pull it out in the morning, after…”

“After he seduced you,” Dani finished.

“He fixed me a drink, fed me dinner, let me sleep in his guest room, cooked me a delicious breakfast in the morning, and pulled my car out of the ditch. He wouldn’t even take gas money from me. I thought all the knights in shining armor died in King Arthur’s time, but I was so wrong.”

“Hmmmm.” Dani frowned. “This sounds serious. And you’re spending the day with him tomorrow?”

“Well, maybe. It’s not exactly a date. More like a professional courtesy. He might take me to see what an open pit mine looks like.”

“Wow, sounds romantic. When will you know if this professional courtesy is a happening thing?”

“If he hasn’t arrived at my apartment by 9:00 a.m., I guess it isn’t. But I want to look nice just in case he does, especially after how I looked yesterday.”

Dani drummed her fingers on the tabletop. “So let me get this straight. You want to wear my emerald earrings to tour an open pit mine with a man who already sounds like he’s afraid to commit?” She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Molly. ‘Nice’ doesn’t include a pair of two-thousand-dollar gems going on a ‘maybe’ date that’s more like a professional courtesy. Besides, it isn’t a woman’s jewelry that catch a man’s eye.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Molly gestured with frustration. “Look at you. The way you dress, the way you do your hair, the way you walk. Everything about you is naturally perfect. You’re the outdoorsy Julia Ormond of the estate-planning world. You’d look glamorous in a sweatshirt and blue jeans. I’m not that blessed.” She leaned forward intently. “Look, I know I’m acting a little bit out of character, but this is important. I’m twenty-six years old and I’ve never felt this way before. I may never again meet another man that makes me feel this way.”

Dani gave her a bemused look. “Okay. I’ll help you coordinate an appropriate wardrobe for possibly viewing an open pit mine, but we’ll save the emerald earrings for your first definite dinner date. Deal?”

Molly sighed with relief. “Deal.”

STEVEN SAT at the kitchen table gazing down at the open page of an environmental law handbook but he wasn’t concentrating on the text. He was thinking about the handful of people in Moose Horn who had the nerve to stand up to a multinational conglomerate and say “No!” loud and clear, knowing they’d probably be bulldozed into the next century. He was thinking about money. It took lots of money to wage a successful campaign, and money was always hard to come by. He would make a series of calls first thing Monday morning and get things going on the financial front, but it would be tough because the times themselves were tough, and purse strings were drawn pretty tight in an uncertain economy.

He was thinking that in the morning he would have to drive to Helena to pick up Molly and take her to view one of New Millennium’s mines. He turned the page of the textbook and wondered why the idea of spending the day with Molly Ferguson didn’t bother him. It should. It wasn’t as if he’d volunteered his time to further her education. It wasn’t as if he’d asked her to go on the trip. He should be thinking about ways to get out of it.

But he wasn’t. He was thinking that it would be good to see her again, though he couldn’t for the life of him fathom why. He shook his head and sighed and tried to focus on the page, but all he was seeing was Molly Ferguson, remembering the bravado that didn’t quite mask her shyness…and the glory of her beautiful red hair.

CHAPTER THREE

BY NINE MINUTES past nine o’clock the following morning, Molly’s morale had hit an all-time low. StevenYoung Bear wasn’t coming. She’d known all along that he wouldn’t. And why should he? He had no obligation whatsoever to help her out any more than he already had. She’d made a fool of herself yesterday, putting him on the spot, pressuring him that way, and now she was paying the price. Not only was she probably going to lose her job because of her poor performance at the Moose Horn town meeting, but she’d messed up any chance she might have had to further her acquaintance with StevenYoung Bear. She’d asked him to do something he obviously hadn’t wanted to do: chaperone her on a field trip to an open pit mine. If she’d asked him to dinner, he might have said yes. It would have been a far more diplomatic move, since, after all, she owed him one. She could have offered him a good, old-fashioned Irish corned-beef-and-cabbage feast.

Instead, she’d behaved just like one of those brassy, forward women her mother so disapproved of. Twenty-six-year-old Molly Ferguson, lonely and desperate, had flung herself at a man who had ever so politely tried to brush her off. She had humiliated herself by allowing her impulsive emotions to get in the way of reason and logic.

She paced the confines of her apartment, thinking about all the awful dates she’d been on since her father had reluctantly allowed her to go out with boys at sixteen. She’d said yes to every invitation to go see a movie, not because she liked the boy but because her father was so overprotective. But the truth was, most of the time she’d secretly wished she were ensconced in her room reading a good book. Then later, when she was all grown up and in college, she’d gladly spent all of her time in the dorm, studying. Studying was a good excuse not to suffer through another boring date. She’d given up on dating until John had pestered her into a routine of having dinner with him on weekends he was free… and even those dates with John sometimes had her thinking about the current book she was reading, or the files she was working on in the office.

Not John’s fault, really. She’d been totally focused on attaining her law degree ever since she could verbalize what she wanted to do with her life, and after getting her degree she’d been totally focused on becoming as competent a lawyer as she could. But moments after meeting Steven Young Bear, her law degree and her career were suddenly no longer enough to sustain her. She’d known Steven for less than a day and already she wanted more out of life than going to work every day, spending long hours at the office, and coming home to an empty apartment.

Much more.

Molly marched to the kitchen, ignoring the packed picnic basket that silently mocked her on the counter. She’d clean the apartment. Lord knows it could use it. She’d start by washing the windows, her most dreaded of all chores. She reached for a roll of paper towels, retrieved the glass cleaner from beneath the kitchen sink, and snapped on a pair of yellow latex gloves. She was halfway through the third window when a firm knock at the door startled her. She paused and smoothed her hair off her forehead with the back of her hand. “Who is it?”

“Steven Young Bear.”

Molly crossed rapidly to the door, snapping the dead bolt back and releasing the security chain. She opened the door wide, still clutching the spray bottle of window cleaner and the crumpled wad of paper towels in her yellow-gloved hands. He was here, standing right in front of her, within arm’s reach. She had to look up to meet his eyes. Handsome and rugged in blue jeans, flannel shirt, sheepskin jacket. She fought to catch her breath and steady her racing heart. Miracle of miracles, Steven Young Bear had actually come.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said in that deep, masculine voice. “I misjudged my driving time.”

“Oh, you’re not late at all.” Flushed with embarrassment, she stripped off the gloves and motioned him in. “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes, thanks. We should get on the road right away. It’s a long haul.”

“Of course. I’ll just grab my jacket….” She snatched the picnic basket off the counter, feeling awkward and shy. “Okay. I’m ready.”