The Cowboy

  "No, he did not." Bev smiled briefly. "And you can be certain that one of these days he'll find a way to even the score."

  Margaret felt a frisson of uneasiness go down her spine. She thought about her conversation with Jack Moorcroft shortly before leaving Seattle. "I'm glad I'm out of it."

  "What Rafe does about Moorcroft is neither here nor there. It's your relationship with my son that concerns me. Rafe put a lot of his life on hold while he worked to save Cassidy and Company. One of the things he avoided was marriage. Now he's nearly forty years old and time is running out. I think he realizes that. I want him to be happy, Margaret. I have come to realize during the past year that you are probably the one woman who can make him happy."

  Margaret stared at her helplessly. "But that's just it, Bev. I can't make him happy. Not as his wife, at any rate. I simply can't be the kind of wife he wants or needs. So I'm going to take your advice."

  Bev looked at her with worried eyes. "What advice?"

  "I'm going to try having an affair with him."

  "You mean you're not going to marry him?" Bev looked stunned.

  Before Margaret could respond, her father's voice bellowed over the patio. "What the hell do you mean, you're not marrying him? Cassidy swore he was offering marriage. That's the only reason I agreed to get involved in this tomfool plan to get you down here. What the blazes does he think he's trying to pull around here?"

  "Dad, hang on a minute." Margaret turned in her chair to see her father bearing down on her. "Let me explain."

  "What's to explain? I'll have Cassidy's hide, by God. I'll take a horsewhip to that boy if he thinks he can lead my little girl down the garden path."

  "Sit down, Dad."

  Bev tried a pacifying smile. "Yes, Connor. Do sit down and let your daughter explain. You didn't hear the whole story."

  "I don't need to hear anything more than the fact that Cassidy isn't proposing. That's enough for me." Connor glowered at both women, but accepted the cup Bev pushed toward him. "Don't you worry, Maggie. I'll set him straight fast enough. He'll do the right thing by you if I have to tie him up and use a branding iron on him."

  Rafe came out of his bedroom at that moment, striding across the patio with his usual unconscious arrogance. Margaret watched him, memories of the night flaring again in her mind. He looked so lithe, sensual and supremely confident in a pair of jeans and a shirt that was unbuttoned at the throat. His dark hair was still damp from a shower and his eyes told her he, too, was remembering what had happened out here between them last night. When he saw he had her full attention, a slight smile edged his mouth and his left eye narrowed in a small, sexy wink.

  "Morning, everyone," he said as he came to a halt beside the table. He bent his head to kiss Margaret full on the mouth and then he reached for the coffeepot. He seemed unaware of the fact that his mother was looking uneasy and that Connor was glowering at him. "Beautiful day, isn't it? When we're finished here, Maggie, love, I'll take you out to the barns and show you some of the most spectacular horseflesh you've seen in your entire life."

  "Hold on there, Cassidy." Connor's bushy brows formed a solid line above his narrowed eyes. "You aren't going anywhere with my girl until we sort out a few details."

  Rafe lounged back in his chair, cup in hand. "What's with you this morning, Connor? Got a problem?"

  "You're the one with the problem. A big one."

  "Yeah? What would that be?"

  "You told me you intended to marry my Maggie. That's the only reason I overlooked the way you treated her last year and agreed to help you get her down here."

  Rafe shrugged, munching on a breakfast pastry. "So?"

  "So she just said you two weren't gettin' married after all."

  Rafe stopped munching. His eyes slammed into Margaret's. A great deal of the indulgent good humor he had been exhibiting a minute ago had vanished from the depths of his gaze.

  "The hell she did," Rafe said, his eyes still locked with Margaret's.

  "Heard her myself, Cassidy, and I want some answers. Now." Connor's fist struck the table to emphasize his demand.

  "You're not the only one." Rafe was still staring grimly at Margaret.

  Margaret groaned and traded glances with a sympathetic-looking Bev. "You shouldn't have eavesdropped, Dad. You got it all wrong."

  "I did?" Connor stared at her in confusion. "But I heard you tell Bev you and Cassidy weren't going to get married. You said something about settling for a damned affair."

  "Is that right?" Rafe asked darkly. "Is that what you said, Maggie?"

  Margaret got to her feet, aware of the other three watching her with unrelenting intensity. She felt cornered. "I said that I would not make a good wife for Rafe. That does not mean, however, that he and I can't enjoy an affair. I've decided to pick up where we left off last year."

  "We were engaged last year," Rafe reminded her coldly.

  "No, Rafe. You might have felt you were engaged because you had asked me to marry you several times, but the truth is I was still considering your proposal when everything blew up in my face. I had doubts about the wisdom of marrying you then and after having had a full year to think about it, I have even more doubts about it now. Therefore, I'm only willing to go as far as having an affair with you. Take it or leave it."

  "The hell I will."

  "Rafe, your mother was right. I'll make you a much better mistress than I would a wife." Without waiting for a response, Margaret turned and started toward the sanctuary of her bedroom.

  She never made it. Rafe came silently up out of his chair and swooped across the patio in a few long strides. He caught her up in his arms and tossed her over his shoulder before she knew quite what had happened.

  Rafe didn't pause. He didn't say a word. He simply carried her through one of the open glass doors, across the living room and out into the hot sunshine.

  5

  « ^ »

  "What do you think you're doing, Rafe? This is inexcusable behavior, absolutely inexcusable. I will not tolerate it."

  "It's cowboy behavior and I'm just a cowboy at heart, remember?" He strode swiftly toward one of the long, low white barns.

  "You're an arrogant, high-handed bastard at heart, that's what you are." Margaret was suddenly acutely aware of an audience. Tom and another man in work clothes and boots glanced toward Rafe and grinned broadly. "Rafe, people are watching. For heaven's sake, put me down."

  "I don't take orders from a mistress."

  "Damn it, Rafe."

  "Now, I might listen to an engaged lady or a wife, maybe, but not a mistress. No, ma'am."

  "Put me down."

  "In a minute. I want to find us some privacy first."

  "Privacy. Rafe, you're creating an embarrassing public spectacle. And you have the nerve to wonder why I never came crawling back to you on my hands and knees this past year begging you to forgive me. This sort of behavior is exactly why I considered I'd had a very lucky escape."

  "Let's not bring up past history. We're supposed to be making a fresh start, remember? If I can let bygones be bygones, so can you."

  "You are unbelievably arrogant."

  "Yeah, but even better, I usually get what I want."

  He carried her into the soft shadows of a long barn. Hanging upside-down as she was, Margaret had an excellent view of a straw-littered floor. The earthy scents of horses and hay wafted up around her. A row of equine heads with pricked ears appeared above the open stall doors.

  Margaret gasped as Rafe swung her off his shoulder and onto her feet. As she regained her balance she glared at her tormentor and fumbled to readjust the clip that held her hair at her nape.

  "Honestly, Rafe, that was an absolutely outrageous thing to do. I'd demand an apology but I know I won't get one. I doubt if you've ever apologized in your entire life."

  "Maggie, love, we'd better have a long talk. There appears to be a slight misunderstanding here."

  "Stop calling me Maggie. I've told you a hundred times I do
n't like it. That's another thing. You never really listen to me, do you? You think everything has to be done your way and the rest of us should just learn to like it that way, no matter what. Your mother tried to tell me this morning that you'd changed during the past year but I knew better and I was right, wasn't I? You just proved it. You're still a thickheaded, domineering, bossy, overbearing cowboy who rides roughshod over everyone else."

  "That's enough." Rafe stood with his booted feet braced, his hands on his hips, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

  "Good Lord, you are a real cowboy, aren't you?" Her voice was scathing. "You look right at home here in this barn with that…that stuff on your boots."

  He glanced down automatically and saw the stuff to which she referred with such disdain. There was a small pile of it near his left boot. Prudently he moved the elaborately tooled black leather boot with its red and yellow star design a few inches to the right.

  "Goes with the territory," Rafe said. He looked up again. "And you can quit playing the sophisticated city girl who's never seen the inside of a barn. I know the truth about you, lady. Connor and I have had a few long talks."

  "Is that right?" she sniffed.

  "Damned right. I know for a fact you were born on your dad's ranch in California and you were raised on it until you were thirteen. You didn't start picking up your fancy airs until Connor sold the place and your family went to live in San Francisco."

  "I prefer to forget my rustic background," she retorted. "And for your information, my standards have changed since I was thirteen. For all intents and purposes, I'm very much a city girl now and I expect a certain level of appropriate behavior from the male of the species."

  "You'll take the behavior you get. Furthermore, I think I've had all the squawking I want to hear from you, city girl. You're not the only one who expects a certain level of appropriate social behavior. You're acting like a sharp-tongued, temperamental prima donna who thinks she can play games with me."

  "That's not true."

  "Yeah? Then what was all that nonsense by the pool a few minutes ago? What do you think you're doing telling our folks you don't intend to marry me?"

  "It's the truth. I don't intend to marry you. I've never said I would marry you. Marrying you would be an extremely dumb thing for me to do."

  The glittering outrage in his eyes was unnerving. Rafe took a single step closer. Margaret took a prudent step backward. A horse in a nearby stall wickered inquiringly.

  "I didn't bring you down here to set you up as a mistress and you know it," Rafe said between his teeth.

  "Don't use that word."

  "What word? Mistress? That's what you're suggesting we call you, isn't it?"

  "No, it's not." Margaret scowled angrily. "That's your mother's word. I explained to you last night, people like her and my father come from another generation."

  "You also said that deep down you didn't think we were all that different from them," Rafe shot back. "What the hell did you think you were doing last night if you weren't agreeing to come back to me?"

  She lifted her chin. "Last night I decided that we might try resuming our affair."

  "That's real generous of you. The only problem is that we don't happen to have an affair to resume."

  She glared at him in open challenge. "Is that right? What do you call us sleeping together for nearly two months last year?"

  "Anticipating our wedding vows."

  Margaret stared at him, open-mouthed. She did not know whether to laugh or cry. Rafe looked perfectly serious, totally self-righteous. "You're joking. That's what you called our affair? How quaint. But there never was a wedding, so what does that make the whole business? Besides a big mistake, I mean?"

  "There's damn well going to be a wedding."

  "Why?" she asked bluntly.

  "Because you and I belong together, that's why. And you know it, Maggie. Or have you forgotten last night already?"

  "No, I haven't forgotten it, but just because we're good together in bed does not mean we should get married. Rafe, listen to me. I've tried to explain to everyone that I would make you a lousy wife. Why won't anyone pay any attention to what I'm saying?"

  "Because you're talking garbage, that's why."

  Margaret sighed heavily. "This is impossible. We're getting nowhere. Talk about a communication problem. I'd better leave—the sooner the better."

  Rafe reached out and caught her arm as she would have turned away. A fierce determination blazed in his eyes and his voice had a raw edge to it. "You can't leave. Not now. I spent six months in hell trying to pretend you didn't exist and another six months figuring out ways to get you back. I'm not going to let you go this time."

  "You can't stop me, Rafe. Oh, I know I let you coerce me into coming down here. But we both know you can't make me stay against my will. And the truth is, there's nothing I can do here, anyway. I've seen for myself that my father is happy with your mother. I would hurt him by trying to interfere. And if he wants to sell Lark Engineering to you, that's his business. It's clear you're not trying to cheat him out of the firm."

  "I didn't bring you down here so that you could protect your father. We both know he can take care of himself. I got you down here so that we could start over again, Maggie, and you know it. Furthermore, if you're honest with yourself for once, you'll admit that's why you used that ticket so damn fast once I'd given you a good enough excuse."

  He was right and that jolted her. She had known all along that her father could take care of himself, even against the likes of Rafe Cassidy. Everyone involved had politely let her pretend that she had rushed down here to rescue Connor but everyone knew the truth.

  "This is extremely humiliating," Margaret said.

  "If it makes you feel any better, take it from me you don't know what I was going through yesterday morning at the airport waiting to see if you were on that flight. I was afraid to even call your apartment in Seattle in case you answered the phone. How's that for proof that you have an equal ability to make me feel like an idiot?"

  The intensity of his words shook her. She bit her lip and then reached out hesitantly to touch his hand. When he glanced down she withdrew her fingers immediately. "Rafe, it won't work. We might have managed a long-distance affair. For a while. But we'll never manage a marriage. Your mother was right all along."

  "Stop saying that, damn it. She was wrong and she admits it. Why do you keep quoting something she said a year ago as if it were carved in stone?"

  "Because she was right a year ago. You're a driven man when it comes to business or anything else you decide you want. This morning she told me more about why you're driven but that doesn't change anything. It just helps explain why you are the way you are."

  Rafe swore in disgust. "She gave you some tripe about me being somewhat, uh, aggressive in business because I had to work so hard to rescue Cassidy and Company, didn't she? Julie says that's her current theory on my behavior."

  "Well, yes. And you're not somewhat aggressive, Rafe, you're a real predator. What's more, you get downright hostile when someone steals your prey the way you think I helped Moorcroft do last year."

  "Look, maybe I'd better make one thing clear here. My mother likes to think I'm the way I am— I mean, was—because of what happened after Dad was killed. But the truth is, I was like that long before I took over Cassidy and Company. Dad knew it. Hell, I was born that way, according to my father. Same as he was."

  Margaret nodded sadly. "You didn't change so that you could salvage the company, you managed to salvage the company because you were already strong enough and aggressive enough to do it."

  "But things are different now. I've changed. I keep telling you that. Give me a chance, Maggie."

  "Last night I thought I could."

  "You call having an affair with me giving me a chance?" he demanded incredulously.

  She nodded. "It was a way to try again. A way that left us both free to change our minds without breaking any promises. It would have give
n us time to observe each other and reassess the situation"

  "Hell." He ran his hand through his hair in a gesture of pure frustration. "I don't need any more time, Maggie. I've been reassessing this damned situation for months."

  "Well, I do need time."

  "This isn't just a question of my work habits, is it?" he asked shrewdly. "The truth is you aren't going to forgive me for what happened between us last year, are you?"

  "You've never asked me to forgive you, Rafe." She smiled bleakly. "You're much too proud for that, aren't you? Oh, you very generously forgave me, but you don't think you need to be forgiven. It's all black and white to you. You were right and I was clearly in the wrong."

  "You made a mistake. Conflicting sets of loyalties, as I said. You were under a lot of pressure at the time and you got confused."

  "So confused I'd do it again if I had to. I didn't like being used, Rafe."

  His jaw tightened. "I did not use you."

  "That's not the way I saw it. You knew I was working for Jack Moorcroft when you started dating me, didn't you?"

  "Yeah, but damn it…"

  "I, on the other hand, did not have the advantage of knowing you were a business rival of his. I didn't even realize you two knew each other, let alone were fierce competitors. You kept that information from me, Rafe."

  "Only because I knew you'd have a problem dating me in the beginning if you knew the whole truth. I didn't want to lose you by telling you Moorcroft and I were after the same prize. You'd have felt guilty going out with me. And if you'll recall, I never tried to pump you for inside information."

  "You let me talk about my job," she accused. "You let me tell you about the projects I was working on. You showed so much interest in me. I was so terribly flattered by that interest. It makes me sick to think how flattered I was."

  "What was I supposed to do? Tell you not to talk about your work?"

  "Yes. That's exactly what you should have told me.

  "Be reasonable, Maggie. If I had tried to explain just why you shouldn't talk to me about your job, you'd have very quickly figured out who I was. I couldn't let that happen."