Date with a Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  “Hello, Worth.” Somehow Molly managed to get those words through cotton-dry lips.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded in a curt tone, choosing to ignore her greeting.

  “I would think that’s obvious.”

  “Maxine failed to tell me you were coming.” Instead of curt, his tone was now in the freezer, showing no chance of thawing.

  “That’s also obvious.”

  Another silence.

  “Again, who’s Trent?”

  “My son.”

  Worth’s black eyes flickered and his mouth stretched into a pencil-thin line. “Lucky you,” he finally said in a caustic tone, his eyes filled with scorn as they traveled up and down her body.

  The word bastard was about to fly out of her mouth when Trent rounded the corner, racing to her side. “Mommy, I went to see the moo cows.”

  Molly pulled him against her, clamping her hand on his shoulder. When he started to squirm, her hold tightened. As if sensing he was in trouble, Trent stopped wiggling and stared up at Worth with open curiosity.

  “Trent,” Molly said in a tight voice, “this is Mr. Cavanaugh.”

  Worth merely nodded at the boy, then looking up at Molly said, “I’d like to talk to you alone.”

  Biting back another choice word, Molly peered down at Trent. “Go back to Granna’s room, honey. And don’t leave. I’ll be there shortly.”

  “Okay,” Trent said, whirling and running back down the hall.

  Don’t run, Molly wanted to shout, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Trent was already out of hearing range.

  “So how old is he?”

  Molly shook her head as though to clear it, Worth’s question taking her by surprise. “Almost four,” she said, lying with such ease that it shocked her.

  “Good-looking kid.”

  “Thanks.”

  Instead of receding, the tension between them continued to rise until Molly felt either she or the room would explode. Or maybe both. She sensed Worth felt the same way, as his features seemed to darken by the second.

  “How long are you planning to stay?” he asked, the muscle in one jaw moving up and down, something that always happened when he was angry or disturbed.

  “I’m not sure.” She paused. “Maybe a week. Maybe longer. I’m not sure. Do you have a problem with my being here?”

  “Not in the least,” he countered in a harsh tone.

  “Is there an addendum to that?”

  “Yeah,” he said in a parting shot, “just stay out of my way.”

  Two

  He’d been blindsided and he hated it.

  This was his domain, dammit, and he had control over what went on here. Or at least he thought he did. Worth muttered a curse, rubbing the five o’clock shadow that covered a good portion of his face as he continued to stand on the porch outside his room. In the distance, he could see the last remnants of a sun fast sinking into oblivion.

  Worth peered at his watch and noted that it was not quite five. He loved the fall of the year, especially October because the leaves changed colors. There was one exception, however. The time change. He didn’t like anything about falling backward, robbing him of an hour of light at the end of day. As a hands-on rancher, light was a precious commodity.

  At this particular moment, whether it was daylight or not wasn’t what his frustration was all about. Time had nothing to do with the gnawing deep in his gut. But he sure as hell knew what did.

  Molly.

  Back in his life.

  No way.

  Not possible.

  Not happening.

  Only it had.

  She was in his house.

  And there wasn’t one thing he could do about it short of pitching her and the kid out the door. He muttered another colorful expletive, but again that did nothing to untie the growing knot in his stomach.

  Granted, he’d known he would eventually see her again. To think not would’ve been ludicrous and unrealistic. After all, her mother worked for him. But since he hadn’t seen Molly in nearly five years, he’d begun to think that maybe fate was smiling on him.

  Heretofore, during her vacation, Maxine had always gone to visit Molly. He’d assumed that would continue to be the case.

  Of course, that was before Maxine had fallen and injured her back to the extent she’d been confined to bed. Molly returning to the ranch seemed to fit the logical order of events, which wouldn’t have been as much of a problem, if only he’d known about it.

  He didn’t like surprises, especially not surprises of this nature. Almost walking head-on into her had definitely been a blow—a blow from which he hadn’t yet recovered.

  The kid hadn’t helped, either.

  Worth rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the hard coiled muscles under his fingers. Nothing short of asking them to leave would give him any relief. That wasn’t about to happen, at least not for several days anyway.

  Meanwhile, he’d just have to put up with the situation. If Molly did like she was told and stayed out of his way, then he could manage. If not … Hell, he wasn’t about to go down that treacherous road. It would only make him madder and more frustrated.

  He just wished she still didn’t look so damn good. Lovelier than even he remembered. And his memory was excellent. Never a day went by that some little something didn’t remind him of her. While that never failed to shoot his blood pressure up, he’d learned to shove thoughts of her aside and move on.

  Now though, that wasn’t doable. He’d most likely see her every day whether he wanted to or not, regardless of what he’d told her. Having gotten over the initial shock somewhat and his head screwed back on straight had brought that reality home. As long as she was on his property, he couldn’t avoid her altogether. He couldn’t avoid the kid, either.

  No doubt about it, she couldn’t deny the kid. Looked just like her, which wasn’t a bad thing. Molly’s dark hair that reminded him of soot, was short and stylish, a perfect backdrop for those smoky colored eyes. And that sultry voice—God, it had always been a turn-on and still was.

  Even though he knew she was twenty-seven, seven years younger than he, she didn’t look it. With her unmarked skin that reminded him of porcelain at its finest, she could pass for less than twenty.

  However, if one were to look closer, her figure bore testimony to her actual age. While remaining thin, with a to-die-for body, he noticed that it was more rounded, even slightly voluptuous in certain places, particularly her breasts and stomach.

  Having borne a child was responsible for those added factors. Instead of detracting from her beauty, they merely enhanced it, making her body sexier than ever. Though he was loathe to admit it, he’d have to be dead not to notice. He might be many things, but dead wasn’t one of them.

  There had been times, however, when he’d wished he were dead. All because of her.

  After Molly had run off, leaving him high and dry, she’d killed something vital inside him, which had never been revived. Part of his heart and soul were dead and Molly was to blame.

  He despised her for that.

  At least that was what he’d always told himself. But seeing her for that few minutes had turned his perfect world upside down—socked him in the gut, actually. Only not for long, he vowed. Already he was remembering her for the liar she really was.

  And with that recall, his confidence rebounded. Even though she was staying in a small suite not far from his didn’t mean one damn thing, although at first he’d questioned his placement of her and Trent.

  Then he’d told himself, what the hell. Where she stayed didn’t mean a thing to him. Hence, he’d had Maxine’s part-time helper, Kathy, show them to that particular suite, mainly because it was close to Molly’s mother.

  In addition, he’d reminded himself, she wouldn’t be at the ranch long enough to matter where she slept. He knew she was a nurse with some large doctors’ group in Houston. Hell, he’d heard Maxine brag about that until she’d finally gotten the message that
he wasn’t interested in hearing about her daughter.

  He often wondered what Molly had told her mother about their past relationship. He suspected it had been nowhere near the truth, which reinforced his anger. A good thing, he told himself. As long as he held onto that anger and hatred, he’d come out the winner.

  And to hell with her.

  Suddenly Worth heard a phone ring. It was only after the third ring he realized it was his cell. Without checking who was calling, he barked, “Cavanaugh.”

  “My, you sound like you’re in a sour mood.”

  “Hello, Olivia.”

  He didn’t miss the aggravated sigh that filtered through the line. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “Hello, sweetheart, would do for starters.”

  He didn’t answer. First, he’d never called her sweetheart and didn’t intend to start now. Second, but most important, she’d hit the nail on the head. He was in a sour mood, but now was not the time to tell her why. He simply wasn’t up to fighting the war that would occur if he told her Molly was back in town, staying at the ranch.

  More to the point, it wasn’t any of Olivia’s business.

  “Okay, you win,” Olivia replied in an offhanded manner. “I’ll let you pout, or whatever the hell you’re doing.”

  “Did you want anything in particular?” Worth asked in a cold tone, knowing he was being a first-class jerk. Yet he felt no need to apologize.

  “What time are you picking me up?”

  Worth’s mind went blank. “Picking you up?”

  “Yes,” she said, not bothering to hide her growing irritation. “Remember you promised to take me to dinner tonight.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “You’d forgotten all about that, hadn’t you?”

  He had, but again he wasn’t going to admit it. “I’ll be there around sevenish.”

  Another sigh. “You know, Worth, I think you take great pride in being an ass.”

  Silence.

  “And while we’re on the subject of dinner,” Olivia added, “don’t forget about the party at my house tomorrow night concerning your political future.”

  “I haven’t, Olivia.” His tone was weary. “I know my parents are invited along with a possible potential backer.”

  “At least you remembered something.”

  With that, she hung up.

  That was two women he’d ruffled today. He wondered if his mother was next in line. Probably so, he told himself. On a normal day, he and Eva Cavanaugh didn’t see eye-to-eye on much of anything. If she’d stop trying to micromanage his life, that might change. His father, however, was a different matter. They got along fine, at least on the surface, though he felt he had never known what made Ted Cavanaugh tick.

  In all fairness, his parents probably didn’t know what made him tick, either. One thing he did know was they wanted him to marry Olivia Blackburn. No. They expected him to marry her, which was the same as waving a red flag in front of a bull. He didn’t live by, or under, others’ expectations. Besides, he didn’t love Olivia. He’d made the mistake of falling in love once, and he’d never repeat it. Never.

  Only problem was, he needed what Olivia could give him and that land she stood to inherit. His parents had deeded him the three hundred acres that adjoined their property, which he’d hoped would be enough to do most anything he chose in the way of ranching. But with his cattle business thriving, he needed more land.

  That was where Olivia fit into his life so well. The acreage she’d inherit from her father would give him the room to expand his horse breeding business, a dream that hadn’t yet come to fruition.

  Ah, to hell with women and the garbage they dished out, his thoughts targeting Molly. What he needed was a drink, he told himself savagely. Something large and strong that would cut through the constriction in his throat that had a stranglehold on him.

  He was just about to accommodate himself when his phone rang again. This time he did look at caller ID and saw that it was his mother. He was tempted not to answer it, but he did. Maybe she was canceling the dinner. A smirk crossed his lips. Not a chance that would happen.

  “Yo, Mother.”

  “Is that any way for a politician to answer the phone?”

  “I’m not a politician. Yet.” He was irritated and it showed.

  “You will be,” she said in her lofty tone. “Just as soon as you throw your hat into the ring.”

  “I haven’t decided to do that, either.”

  “I don’t know why you take delight in being difficult.”

  “Mother, if you’re going to get on your soapbox about politics, then this conversation is over.”

  “Don’t you dare hang up on me.”

  Not only could he hear the chagrin in his mother’s voice, but he could picture it in her face, as well. Although tall and rawboned like himself, she was nonetheless a very striking woman, with blond hair and black eyes, who commanded attention with her height and flare for fashion. But when she was out of sorts, which she was now, her usually pleasant features turned hard and unpleasant.

  “I’ll see you and Dad tomorrow night at Liv’s around eight. We can talk about politics then, okay?”

  “That’s not what I’m calling about.”

  Something in her voice alerted him to be on guard, that the rest of the conversation would not be to his liking. Her next words confirmed that.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?” Worth’s tone was as innocent as hers was accusing.

  “That Molly Bailey, or whatever her name is now, is at your ranch.”

  God, it didn’t take long for news to travel, but then in a small town like Sky, Texas gossip was the most popular game in town.

  “Because it’s no big deal.”

  “No big deal.” Eva’s voice rose. “How can you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. She came to see about her mother.”

  “I understand that.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  “The fact that she’s staying at your place is the problem.”

  “Mother, I don’t want to discuss this.”

  Eva went on as though he hadn’t said a word. “A motel would’ve been just fine for the likes of her.”

  Although he had no intention of defending Molly—not for one second—his mother’s words set him off like a rocket. It was all he could do to keep his cool long enough to get off the phone before he said something he’d be sorry for.

  “Goodbye, Mother. I’ll see you tomorrow tonight.”

  “Worth Cavanaugh, you can’t hang—”

  “Yes, I can. I’ve got to go now.” Without further ado, Worth punched the red button on the phone and Eva’s hostile voice was no longer assaulting his ear.

  Women!

  He’d had enough of them for one day. That stiff drink was looking more enticing by the second. He was about to walk back inside when he saw her strolling across the lawn. Alone.

  Worth stopped in his tracks and watched. Molly was still dressed in the same jeans she’d had on earlier, jeans that fit her rear to perfection. Right now, it was her backside that held him captive—the sway of those perfect hips. Then she turned slightly, giving him privy to the way her full breasts jutted against the soft forest-green sweater.

  For what seemed an eternity, his eyes consumed her. Then muttering a harsh obscenity, he felt his manhood rise to the occasion. Even though he dragged his gaze away from the provocative thrust of those breasts and back to her face, that action did nothing to release the pressure behind his zipper.

  She was such an awesome picture of beauty against the gold and orange leaves falling from the trees that his breath caught in his throat.

  It was in that moment she looked up and saw him. For the second time in a day, their eyes met and held.

  He stared at her, breathing hard. Then cursing again for the fool that he was, Worth pivoted on a booted heel and strode back
inside, only to realize that he was shaking all over.

  Three

  Lucky for her it was Worth who looked away first. For some crazy reason, Molly couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him, although he was several yards from her. Yet his tall figure appeared clear to her.

  And threatening.

  Even so, she had been held spellbound by his presence, though she knew that if she were close enough to read those black eyes, they would be filled with animosity.

  Thank heaven the moment had passed and he was gone. However, she didn’t move. Her body felt disassembled, perhaps like one of the many leaves that were falling from the trees, never to be attached again.

  What an insane thought, Molly told herself brutally, storming back into her room. Besides, it was getting downright chilly despite the fact the sun was still hanging on. Once it disappeared, the temperature had a tendency to drop quickly.

  By the time she closed the French doors, she was shivering all over. Not from the chill, she knew, but from her second encounter with Worth. She eased onto the chaise longue, the closest seat, and took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart, feeling lucky to be alone. Trent was with his grandmother who was happy as a lark reading to him. He had crawled into the bed with Maxine and was hanging onto every word she read out of the book.

  Before she had ventured outdoors, Molly had stood in her mother’s door and watched them, feeling a peace descend over her. Coming here, despite the obstacles, had been the right thing to do. Not only did her ailing mother need her daughter, she needed to get to really know her grandson. To date, Trent and Maxine hadn’t had the opportunity to bond, to develop a close relationship that was so unique to grandparents and grandchildren.

  Now, however, the doubts were once again creeping back into her mind, following that long distance encounter with Worth. Molly bit down on her lower lip to stop it from trembling while her eyes perused the room where she tried hard to concentrate on the rustic good taste that surrounded her.

  She forced herself to take in, and appreciate, the cobalt blue walls and the big four-poster bed that was angled in one corner. The one thing that held her attention was the handmade quilt that adorned the bed. The coverlet picked up the blue in the wall, as well as other vivid colors, resulting in a stunning piece of art.