Free The Dakota Man by Joan Hohl

reminded herself. She had settled into the apartment, determined to stand firm, to face and deal with whatever life threw at her.
    But… Mitch Grainger? Could she deal with him? Or, more important, her wildly sensual reaction to him?
    Worrying the questions, Maggie gnawed at her lip, only then noticing she had eaten off her lipstick along with her lunch. She could use some color in her cheeks, as well.
    Pull it together, she advised herself, turning on the cold water tap to bathe the still-racing pulse in her wrists. Turning off the tap, she dried her hands with a paper towel, then dabbed at the moist line of perspiration on her brow and at the back of her neck.
    Cooler, calmer, feeling more composed, Maggie removed the small makeup pouch from her handbag and set to repairing her appearance.
    Minutes later, Maggie critically studied her renewed reflection. She allowed herself a faint smile of satisfaction for the effort at camouflage. The shine on her forehead, nose and chin had been concealed by a few pats of translucent pressed-powder foundation. Her cheeks glowed with healthy-looking, if artificial, color, the muted red applied to her full lips was outlined with a darker hue.
    Warpaint on, Maggie squared her shoulders. She would not run. She was done with running. She would stay and face not only Mitch Grainger, but her own overwhelming attraction to him.
    Curving her lips into a pleasant smile, Maggie turned and marched back to the office.

Six
    M oving back into the office quietly so as not to disturb Karla, Maggie slipped into a chair in front of the desk. Taking her checkbook from her bag, she wrote out the rental payment on the apartment. She was tearing the check from the book when Karla turned away from the screen to smile at her.
    “Oh, I’m glad you’re back,” she said, pushing her chair back and easing out of it. “Now I have to go…urgently.” She grinned. “You can man the phone.”
    “Mitch told me to give the rent payment to you,” Maggie said, holding up the check.
    Already at the door, Karla said, “Lay it on the desk, I’ll take care of it when I get back.”
    Man the phones. Great, what’ll I do if the darn thing rings? What’ll I say? Sorry, but I’m new and don’t know diddly about the business yet? Now, that would make a sterling impression, Maggie thought, grimacing as she moved around the desk and settled into Karla’s chair. She had just decided that her best bet was to pray the phone didn’t ring, when the darn thing did.
    Maggie warily eyed the phone through the second ring, then recalling Karla saying that if it wasn’t answered by the third ring Mitch would pick it up, she grabbed the receiver.
    “This is Maggie,” she said, in the same manner as Karla always answered.
    “Maggie? What happened to Karla?” the caller, a woman, asked in an ultracool, rather haughty tone.
    An old hand at dealing with all types of calls, from all types of people, Maggie was less than impressed, but scrupulously professional. “Karla is out of the office at the moment,” she responded pleasantly. “May I help you?”
    “Yes,” Ms. Haughty snapped back. “Youmay put me through to Mitch.” Not a request; an order.
    As if, Maggie thought, raising her eyebrows. “I’ll see if Mr. Grainger can take your call,” she said, ever so sweetly. “Whom shall I say is calling?”
    “Natalie Crane.” The woman’s superior tones suggested her name alone opened all doors.
    “Please hold.” Witch, Maggie added to herself, immediately hitting the hold button. She waited with calm deliberation for a full thirty seconds before buzzing Mitch.
    “Yes, Karla?”
    The sound of his voice reactivated the quiver inside Maggie. For an instant, her mind went blank, her throat went dry. Idiot, she chastised herself, clearing her throat.
    “Karla?”
    “It’s Maggie,” she quickly responded. “Karla’s out of the office.”
    He chuckled. “Ladies’ room, huh?”
    “Yes.” She had to smile.
    “What