for a couple lingering over coffee and dessert at their table near the stone fireplace.
Cam just couldn’t stop herself. She strolled over to where she’d seated him a little while ago and smiled. “Did you enjoy your dinner, Doctor?”
Ben nodded. “I did. The food here is excellent.”
“Amanda will appreciate hearing that. She’s the chef.” And someone Cam had coaxed here from New York. The plan was to prove herself in six months and the two of them would get their pick of prime assignments in one of the Halliday Hospitality Corporation’s other properties. “Can I get you something from the bar?”
“No, thanks. I’m on call for the clinic.”
“Are you expecting broken bones tonight?”
“Mercy Medical Clinic docs rotate the responsibility of being available to triage emergency calls.”
“Excuse me?”
“We take information and decide if the patient on the phone needs to see a doctor and which one could best take care of them. If it’s an orthopedic problem, I’m their guy. Otherwise Adam Stone, the family practice specialist, is up.”
Cam was “up” all day and night here at the lodge. It wasn’t the same as life and death, but she had to be available to deal with any crisis situation. Her performance was being evaluated, and Dean Halliday, her father and president of Halliday Hospitality, didn’t grade on a curve.
“Maybe dessert and coffee?” she suggested. “I happen to know the chef makes the best seven-layer chocolate cake in Montana.”
“Is that a fact?” Dark brown eyes teased and taunted.
“Slight exaggeration. But if it’s not the best you’ve tasted in Blackwater Lake, this meal is on the house.”
“Can you afford to take the chance, what with losing money and all? Or,” he added, “I could lie just to get the meal comped.”
“You could.”
It wouldn’t be the first time a man had lied and taken advantage of her, but she’d been younger then. Naive. Vulnerable. All of that was a pretty way of saying she’d been stupid and her judgment about men sucked. But she was going to prove herself here in this little backwater town or die trying.
She gave him her best smile, the one that showed off her dimples. “But if you don’t tell the truth, we’ll both know.”
“You’re on.” He laughed and showed off his own considerable charms.
His teeth were very white and practically perfect. The pretty people she’d once counted as her closest friends all had cosmetic work to make their smiles perfect, but Ben’s looked like nothing more than good genes. There were streaks in his brown hair that came from the sun and not a bottle at the salon and the bump in his nose kept him from being too pretty. He had a natural ruggedness about him that had nothing to do with acting technique and everything to do with being a manly man. Again with the good genes.
Cam had promised herself after a teenage run-in with police that she’d never again do anything she’d regret. Last night she broke that pledge. She regretted not letting Dr. Ben McKnight examine her foot. Not because she needed anything more medical than an aspirin and a bag of frozen peas for swelling, but simply to feel his big, competent hands on her leg.
Focus, she told herself. Glancing around, she saw Jenny, the lone waitress tonight, and signaled her over. The server shot her a dirty look, then moved to the table and smiled warmly at the doctor.
“What can I get you, Dr. McKnight?”
“Miss Halliday has talked me into a cup of coffee and a piece of Montana’s best chocolate cake.”
“Excellent choice,” Jen said. “I’ll bring it right out.”
“I should walk back and get it myself,” he said. “It’s going to add an extra mile to my run in the morning.”
“You look fine to me.” Jenny smiled and there was definite flirtatious eyelash-batting going on.
Cam held in a sigh and made a mental note to add an item to the staff meeting agenda. Friendly, but not too friendly. It was a fine line.
She looked down at the customer and gave him her professional, but not too friendly smile. “You may have to run an extra mile, but I promise the cake will be worth it.” Then she turned away.
“You’re leaving?”
“I have work to do.”
“Is the place that busy? Can you keep me company?”
“From what I saw you had plenty of company during dinner, Doctor.”
He shrugged. “People in Blackwater Lake are friendly.”
“Is it just me or merely a coincidence that all those friendly Blackwater Lake people were of the female persuasion?”
“Are you jealous, Miss Halliday?”
“What if I were, Dr. McKnight?”
“I’d be flattered,” he said.
“And I’d have a target on my back. Enjoy your dessert,” she said, turning away.
“Whoa, not so fast, Cam. Do you mind if I call you that?” Without waiting for an answer he pointed to the chair at a right angle to his. “It’s just plain mean to make a cryptic remark like that, then walk away.”
“I have no reason to stay.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be friendly to your guests?” he asked.
“The first rule of hospitality,” she confirmed. “And I have been. But there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.”
“Isn’t the customer always right?”
“Yes, but—”
“So, sit. Take a load off that foot.” He looked down at her legs in four-inch heels. “Nice shoes. How is the foot, by the way?”
“Fine.” She didn’t take him up on the offer to sit because that wasn’t professional. But she didn’t leave, either.
“Tell me about the target on your back.”
“Obviously you were smart enough to pass medical school. Do you really not get it?” That was tough to believe. A man as good-looking as he had to have had opportunities. He’d probably left this small town for college a naive guy of eighteen, but surely he’d been around the block a time or two since then. “You’re quite a catch.”
“What am I? A fish?” The twinkle in his eyes said he knew where this was going and wasn’t the least offended.
That was fortunate because in the hospitality game one always aimed to please. “You’re a doctor and not hard on the eyes—”
“Did you just say I’m cute?”
“I said the women in this tiny little town might perceive you that way and you probably make a decent living as a doctor.”
“Are you asking?” He rested his forearms on the white-cloth-covered table.
“I’m not interested. But clearly a number of women are. A single guy—” She stopped as a thought struck her. “You aren’t married, are you?”
“Nope.”
“Divorced?”
“One would have to have been married for that to be the case.”
“So you’ve never been married.”
Before Camille could continue the line of questioning, Jenny brought over his cake and the assistant waiter delivered a saucer and cup, then filled it with coffee.
“Anything else I can do for you?” Jenny asked.