The Cowboy

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  "Thanks."

  He held out his hand for the glass as he sat down beside Margaret on one of the loungers. His powerfully muscled thigh brushed her leg and Margaret promptly shifted to put a few more inches between them. He ignored the small retreat.

  Margaret took a long, fortifying sip of iced tea and studied the three people who surrounded her. Her father and Bev appeared to be waiting for her to make the next move. Rafe didn't look particularly concerned one way or the other. To look at him one would have thought this was a perfectly normal family gathering. Margaret frowned over her glass.

  "Why don't we all stop playing games," she suggested in a voice that she hoped hid her own inner tension. "We all know this isn't a happy little poolside party."

  "Speak for yourself," Connor suggested easily. "I'm happy." He reached across the table and caught Bev's hand, smiling at the older woman. "And I think Bev is, too. Did Rafe tell you the good news?"

  "That you and Bev are involved? Yes, he did."

  Connor scowled slightly. "I don't know about involved. I'm not up on all the new terminology. Is that what they call plannin' to get married nowadays?"

  Margaret swallowed. Rafe had been right. This was serious. "You're planning marriage?"

  "Yes, we are." Bev looked at Margaret with a faint air of challenge. "I hope you approve."

  "I wish you both the best," Margaret made herself say politely. "You'll understand that the news has come as something of a shock. I had no idea you two had even met until Rafe mentioned it."

  "Take it easy, Maggie, girl," Connor said gently. "There were reasons I didn't want to talk about it until now."

  "Reasons?" She pinned him with her gaze.

  "Now, Maggie, lass, you know what I'm talkin' about. The situation 'tween you and Rafe here has been a mite tense for some time."

  Margaret arched her brows and slid a long, assessing glance at Rafe. "Tense? I wouldn't say that. I wasn't particularly tense at all during the past year. Were you tense, Rafe?"

  "I had my moments," he muttered.

  She nodded. "Well, I did try to warn you about stress, didn't I? As I recall, I gave you several pithy little lectures about your long hours, nonexistent vacations and general tendency to put your work first."

  "I believe you did mention the subject. Several times, in fact."

  Margaret smiled coldly. "Come now, Rafe, you can be honest in front of Dad and your mother. Admit the full truth. Toward the end there I was starting to turn into a full-blown nag when it came to the matter of your total devotion to work, wasn't I? I think I was even beginning to threaten you that if our relationship didn't get equal time there wouldn't be a relationship."

  Bev shifted uneasily in her chair, her eyes swinging to Connor.

  Margaret's father whistled soundlessly. "Oh, ho. So that's the way of it, is it?"

  Rafe gave Margaret a repressive stare. "I had my hands full last year when we met, if you'll recall. I was juggling a couple of companies that were valued in the millions. Things are different now. I'm making some changes in my life."

  "Such as?"

  "I've cut way back on the juggling, for one thing." He flashed her a quick grin.

  Margaret was not amused. "I find that hard to believe."

  "Hey, I'm down here in Arizona with you, aren't I?" He smiled again. "Two full weeks, maybe three if I get lucky. You have my full attention, Maggie, love."

  "Not quite. You're in the middle of negotiating a deal with my father, remember?"

  Connor chuckled. "She's got you there, Rafe. We are supposed to be talking business off and on, aren't we?"

  "Speaking of this little matter of selling the company you built with the sweat of your brow, Dad, just what is going on?" Margaret pinned her father with a quelling glare.

  "What can I tell you?" Connor shrugged massively. "It's the truth. If I can get a decent offer out of Cassidy, here, Lark Engineering is his."

  "But, Dad, you never told me you were thinking of selling."

  "The time has come to enjoy some of the money I made with all that brow sweat. Bev and I plan to do a lot of traveling and a fair amount of just plain fooling around. I'm even looking at a nifty little yacht. Can't you just see me in that fancy yachting getup?"

  "But the company has always been so important to you, Dad."

  "It's still important. Maggie, girl, I'll be perfectly truthful with you. If you'd stayed in the business world, shown a real interest in it, I'd probably have turned it over to you one of these days. But let's face it, girl, you aren't cut out for that world. And now you've got yourself a fine new career, one you've taken to like a duck to water. I'm glad for you, but it leaves me with a problem. I've got to do something with the firm."

  "So you're just going to hand it over to Rafe?"

  "He's not exactly handing it over," Rafe muttered. "Your father is holding me at gunpoint. You ought to hear what he's asking for Lark."

  "I see." Margaret felt some of the righteous determination seep out of her. Everything was already beyond her control. Rafe was in command, as usual. Things would go his way. A curious sense of inevitability began to come over her. Determinedly she fought back. "Where's the ubiquitous Hatcher?" Margaret asked, glancing meaningfully around the pool. "Surely you haven't dismissed your faithful, loyal, ever-present assistant for two solid weeks?"

  Rafe took a swallow of tea. "Hatcher is going to drop by occasionally to brief me on how things are going at the main office. But that's all. I've delegated almost everything else. I'm only available for world-class emergencies. Satisfied?"

  "You don't have to worry about my feelings on the subject," Margaret said. "Not anymore. You're free to run your life any way you choose."

  "Ouch." Connor winced.

  "I know what you mean," Rafe remarked. "She's been sniping at me like that every chance she gets. But I've promised myself I'll be tolerant, patient and understanding. She can't keep it up forever."

  "Don't bet on it." Margaret got to her feet. "I believe I will have that swim now. If you'll excuse me, Bev?"

  "Of course, dear. The water is lovely."

  Bev looked relieved to see her go. But there was an unexpected trace of unhappiness in her gaze, too, Margaret noticed. She wondered about that as she turned to walk back into the house. Surely after the things Bev Cassidy had said to her last year, she couldn't be hoping for a reconciliation between her son and his errant mistress.

  Mistress. The old-fashioned word still burned in Margaret's ears whenever she remembered Bev's last words to her. You'd make him a better mistress than you would a wife.

  "Cocktails at six out here by the pool, dear," Bev called after her. "We'll be eating around seven-thirty. Connor and Rafe have promised to grill us some steaks."

  "Right," Connor said cheerfully. "Got us some of the biggest, juiciest, thickest steaks on the face of the planet."

  Margaret laughed for the first time since Thursday night. She looked back at the small group gathered under the umbrella. "I almost forgot to mention that I've made a few life-style changes myself during the past year."

  "Such as?" Rafe asked, lion's eyes watchful.

  "I never touch red meat." Margaret walked on into the cool house, paying no attention to her father's bellow of astonishment.

  Shortly after one o'clock in the morning, Margaret eased open the patio door of her bedroom and slipped out into the silent courtyard. She had changed into her bathing suit a few minutes earlier, finally admitting that she was not going to be able to sleep.

  The balmy desert air was still amazingly warm. It carried a myriad of soft scents from the gardens. Overhead, the star-studded sky stretched into a dark infinity. Margaret had the feeling that if she listened closely she might actually be able to hear a coyote howl from some nearby hilltop.

  The underwater lights of the swimming pool glowed invitingly. Margaret slipped off her sandals and slid into the water. She hovered weightlessly for a long moment and then began to swim the length of the pool. The te
nsion in her muscles slowly dissolved.

  It had been a difficult evening.

  If she had any sense she would leave tomorrow, she told herself as she reached the far end of the pool and started back. It was the only thing to do. Her father was happy. It was obvious he was not being bamboozled out of Lark Engineering. He truly wanted to sell out to Rafe so there was nothing she could say or do. It was his business, after all.

  Yes, she should definitely leave tomorrow. But every time she felt Rafe's eyes on her she found herself looking for an excuse to stay. The excuse of doing battle with him was the only one she had.

  There was no sound behind her on the flagstone but something made Margaret pause in the water and look back toward the far side of the pool. Rafe stood there in the shadows clad in only a snug-fitting pair of swim trunks. Moonlight gleamed on his broad shoulders and in the darkness his eyes were watchful and mysterious.

  "Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly.

  "No." She treaded water wondering if she should flee back to the safety of her bedroom. But she seemed to lack the strength of will to get out of the pool.

  "Neither could I. I've been lying in bed wondering what kind of reception I'd get if I went to your bedroom."

  "A very cold reception."

  "You think so? I'm not so sure. That's what was keeping me awake, you know. The uncertainty." He lowered himself silently into the water and stroked quietly toward her.

  Margaret instinctively edged back until her shoulders were against the side of the pool. She gripped the tiled edge with one hand as Rafe came to a halt in front of her. "Rafe, I don't think this is a good idea. I came out here to swim alone."

  "You're not alone any longer." He put his hands on either side of her, gripping the tile and effectively caging her against the side of the pool. But he made no move to bring his body against hers.

  "Are you trying to intimidate me?" Margaret asked, shockingly aware of the brush of his leg against hers under water. Old memories, never far from the surface, welled up swiftly, bringing with them the jolt of desire.

  "My goal isn't to intimidate you, honey, it's to remind you of a few things," Rafe said gently. "A few very good things." He came closer, causing the water to lap softly at her throat and shoulders. "Maggie, I've wanted you back in my bed every night since you left. Every damned night. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

  She shivered, although the water was warm. "Did you mean what you said last Thursday? There hasn't been anyone else since you and I… since we've been apart?"

  "I meant it. The only thing that kept me sane was knowing you weren't sleeping with anyone else, either."

  She scowled. "How did you know that, anyway?"

  His mouth thinned. "It's not important."

  "You aren't just guessing about my lovelife during the past year, are you? You know for a fact I haven't been serious about anyone else. Damn it, Rafe, there's only one way you could be so certain. You hired someone to spy on me, didn't you?"

  "Maggie, honey, I told you, it's not important."

  "Well, it's very important to me. Rafe, how could you?"

  "Hush, love." His hand wrapped around her nape and he kissed her lightly. "I said it's not important. Not any longer."

  "You should be ashamed of yourself."

  "Have pity on me, love. I was a desperate man."

  "Rafe, the last thing I will ever have for you is pity. Just what did you think you were going to do if I got involved with someone else?" she demanded.

  "Could we discuss something else? Your voice is rising. If you're not careful, you'll wake Mom and Connor. Their bedrooms open onto this courtyard, too."

  The last thing she wanted was for anyone to overhear this particular conversation. Margaret reluctantly lowered her tone to a fierce whisper. "What did you think you were going to do, Rafe?"

  "Move our thrilling reconciliation up a few months," he told her wryly.

  "You're impossible." She didn't believe for a moment that was all he would have done. It was becoming very clear that Rafe had never stopped thinking of her as belonging to him during the past year. Only the knowledge that he'd been celibate during that entire time himself kept her from going up in flames over the matter.

  "Tell me you missed me, Maggie. Just a little?"

  She shook her head mutely.

  "Admit it," Rafe urged, moving a little closer in the water. "Give me that much, honey."

  "No." The single word was a soft gasp of dismay. He was only inches from her now. His hands were on either side of her, trapping her.

  "You remember how good it was, don't you, love?" He kissed her fleetingly again, closing the distance between them until there wasn't any at all. "I didn't go looking for anyone else because I knew it would be useless. You knew there wasn't anyone else for you, either, didn't you?"

  "Oh, Rafe." She muttered his name in a soft cry that was part protest, part acceptance of a truth that could not be denied.

  "Yeah, Maggie, love. You do remember, don't you? A whole year, sweetheart. A year of pure hell."

  Margaret felt his leg slide between hers as his mouth came down to claim her lips. She felt her breasts being softly crushed against his chest. The hot, sweet rain of passion too long denied swept through her, pooling just below her stomach. Rafe was the only man who had ever been able to do this to her, the only one who could bring her to such shockingly intense arousal with only a look and a kiss and a touch.

  Nothing had changed.

  "Maggie, love, this time we'll make things work between us." Rafe's mouth moved on hers, gliding along the line of her jaw up to the lobe of her ear. He bit gently, tantalizing her with a pleasure that was not quite pain. "Just give me a chance, sweetheart. I'm going to prove it Everything is going to be different this time around. Except for this part. No need to fix this, is there?"

  He was right about one thing, Margaret thought. This part was still very, very good. Slowly, with a growing sense of inevitability, she felt herself sliding back into the magic world of sensuality that she had shared all too briefly with Rafe.

  "Let me love you, Maggie. Let me hold you the way I used to hold you."

  "Back when I was your mistress?"

  He shook his head, his gaze suddenly fierce. "I never thought of you as a mistress. You were the woman I was going to marry. I knew that from the first day I met you."

  "Your mother said I would make a better mistress for you than I would a wife and I think she may have been right."

  Rafe's head came up abruptly. "What the devil are you talking about?"

  "Never mind. As you said a minute ago, it's not important."

  "Maggie, stop talking in riddles."

  "I've got a better idea," she suggested softly. "Let's not talk at all." She put her arms around his neck as she made her decision. Heaven help her, she did not have the power to deny herself a night in Rafe's arms. "You were right, Rafe. This part was always very good." She brushed her lips lightly across his and felt his shudder of response.

  "Maggie, love." Rafe's voice was a husky groan. "Are you telling me the waiting is over?"

  "I want you, Rafe. I never stopped wanting you."

  Rafe's mouth closed over hers once more, hard and passionate and filled with a year's worth of pent-up need. Margaret felt his hands moving on her under the water, relearning the shape and feel of her.

  His tongue surged between her lips as his fingers slipped under the edge of her swimming suit bra. She gasped as she felt his thumbs slide over her nipples.

  "Rafe?"

  "Not here," he muttered. "Too much chance of an audience. I'm taking you back to my room."

  He hauled himself up onto the tiled edge of the pool with easy strength, then reached down and lifted her up beside him. Margaret looked up into his dark eyes and saw the undiluted hunger there. She felt the answering ache of desire within herself and knew she was still in love with Rafe Cassidy.

  You'd make him a better mistress than a wife.

  Bev Cassi
dy's words rang in Margaret's ears once more as Rafe swept her up into his arms and started toward the open door of his bedroom.

  4

  « ^ »

  The bedroom was filled with the inviting mysteries of the night. The woman in Rafe's arms was intoxicating and seemed a part of that glittering darkness.

  He was only half conscious of the dark, cool shadows and the pooling white sheets on the wide bed. All Rafe could think of now was the warm, sensual weight of the woman he held. His woman. She was finally back where she belonged.

  "It's been so long," he muttered thickly as he set her down beside the bed and reached for a towel. "Too damn long."

  He used the towel carefully, tenderly, lovingly. He squeezed the moisture out of her hair and then combed the damp strands back from her forehead with his fingers. She had a misty look on her face. She smiled at him and kissed him gently.

  He stroked the water droplets off her arms and knelt to sleek it from her long, curving legs. As he worked he touched her, aware of a surging sense of pure delight as he trailed his fingers along her smooth skin.

  When he was finished he quickly dried himself and tossed the towel aside. Then he reached for her.

  "Maggie, love. My sweet, sexy Maggie." He pulled her against his chest until her head was resting on his shoulder and then he undid the fastening of her swimsuit bra. Carefully he pulled it free, sliding the straps off her shoulders. He looked down and saw the hardened tips of her breasts and for an instant he thought the desire would overcome him then and there.

  It took all his self-control not to rush. He stroked her the way he would one of his beautiful, sensitive mares—gently and slowly. She responded at once, vividly, the way she always had to his touch. Her reaction only served to enhance his own. When her lips moved against his bare skin and her arms went around his waist, he shuddered.

  "I missed you so, Rafe."

  The soft admission nearly sent him over the edge. "Oh, babe." His fingers trembled as he slid them under the edge of her bikini and pushed the scrap of material down over her hips. It fell to the floor and she stepped daintily away from the damp fabric.