The Cowboy

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  Rafe took a deep breath as he looked down at her. "You're more lovely than you were even in my dreams. And believe me I had a few that were so hot I'm amazed you didn't feel the flames all the way up there in Seattle."

  "I had a few of my own." Her eyes were luminous in the shadows as she slid her fingers through the hair on his chest. She traced the shape of his shoulders and then her palm shaped the muscles of his upper arms.

  Rafe couldn't wait any longer. He picked her up and set her down on the bed. He felt heavy, his body taut with arousal. His mind whirled with it. He stripped off his swim trunks and lowered himself down beside her. Then he flattened his palm on her stomach and moved his fingers into the triangle of curls at the junction of her thighs. Suddenly his hand was still.

  "Rafe, what's wrong?" Margaret asked softly.

  "Nothing. Nothing's wrong." He bent his head and tasted one full nipple. The sensation was exquisite. "I'm just half out of my mind with wanting you now that I've finally got you back in my bed. But I want to do this right. I intended to take it slow. I've waited this long to make it perfect for you."

  She laughed, a soft, throaty sound that made him want to hug her. "Rafe, it was always so good, no matter how we did it—fast, slow or in between. You don't have to worry about how we do it tonight."

  He groaned and kissed her throat. "Touch me, baby. Feel how much I want you."

  Her gentle fingers closed around him and Rafe sucked in his breath, his eyes slitting in reaction to the caress. "You're right. It was good any way we did it and there's no way I can take it slow tonight." He reached over and yanked open the drawer in the nightstand, groping for the small box he had optimistically put there earlier. He used one hand and his teeth to open the packet so he could keep the other hand on Maggie's thigh. He didn't want to let go of her for a second.

  A moment later he moved again, rolling on top of Maggie with the wild eagerness of a stallion. He tried to control himself but she was reaching up to clasp him to her and her willingness was his undoing. He parted her legs with his own.

  "Yes, Rafe. Please."

  He felt her silken thighs alongside his hips and a near-violent wave of desire surged through him. When he probed her carefully he met the damp, welcoming heat and that was all he could stand. He guided himself into her, driving forward into her core. She was so tight. He wondered if he should stop and give her time to adjust to him. After all, it had been a whole year.

  But he couldn't stop. Not now. He needed to bury himself within her. Rafe moaned as he slid fully into her depths. He heard her soft cry in his ear and her nails dug into his shoulders.

  "Am I hurting you?" he asked, his breathing turning ragged.

  "No. No, it feels wonderful. It's just…been a while, that's all."

  "Too damn long for both of us."

  "Yes." She lifted her hips against him, telling him she was ready now, urging him into the ancient rhythm.

  Rafe needed no additional coaxing. He held her so tightly he was half afraid of crushing her. But she clung to him just as fiercely. He sank himself again and again into her heat until he felt her tightening around him in the old, familiar way.

  "Rafe."

  "That's it, Maggie, love," he muttered against her mouth. "Come on, honey. Go wild for me."

  She shivered and cried out again. He opened his mouth over hers and swallowed the soft, sweet sound. She bucked beneath him and he groaned heavily. Nothing had ever been as shatteringly sexy to Rafe as the feel of Maggie climaxing beneath him.

  He waited until the last of the tremors were fading and then he slammed into her one more time and felt himself explode.

  Rafe rode the storm for what seemed like forever, the passion in him apparently limitless. And then it was over. He relaxed heavily on top of Maggie, squashing her into the damp sheets.

  His last coherent thought was that the waiting and planning were finally finished. He had his Maggie back. No one had ever made him feel the way Maggie did.

  It was a long time before Rafe reluctantly stirred. He only did so because he felt Maggie pushing experimentally against his shoulder.

  "What's wrong?" he mumbled, half asleep.

  "You're getting very heavy."

  "Nag, nag, nag." He levered himself slowly away from her and rolled onto his back. He cradled her close to his side and yawned. "Better?"

  "Umm-hmm." She kissed his jaw and then his shoulder, her lips incredibly soft against his skin. "I'd better get back to my own room before I fall asleep."

  "No," he muttered instantly. He opened one eye to glare at her. "You sleep here."

  She smiled. "I think it would be better if I went back to my own room."

  "Why?" He was beginning to feel belligerent.

  "Because we aren't alone in the house, remember?"

  "My mother and your father both know we've had an affair in the not so distant past and they both know why you're here now. They're not going to ask any questions about why you spent the night in my room. They've taken more than one weekend trip together, you know. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if your father is paying a late night visit to my mother even as we speak."

  "Even if he is, you can bet he'll be back in his own room by dawn. That's the way their generation does things. It's a matter of propriety."

  "Yeah? Well, our generation is different."

  She chuckled softly. "I'm not so sure about that." Her eyes sobered. "Please, Rafe. I think it would be better if I go back to my own room. It would be embarrassing for me in the morning if…" Her voice trailed off abruptly.

  Rafe grinned knowingly and ran his fingers through her hair. "You mean if everyone in the house finds out you surrendered after only one night back under my roof? Yeah, I can see where that would be a little embarrassing for you."

  She poked him in the ribs and scowled. "I did not surrender."

  Her eyes searched his face. She looked as if she was about to say something and changed her mind. "Good night, Rafe."

  He didn't like it but he didn't want to argue with her. Not now that things were finally all right again. "You always were a little shy about this kind of thing, weren't you?"

  "I prefer to think of it as circumspect."

  "Downright prudish if you ask me. You know what? You're just an old-fashioned girl at heart. But I guess I can put up with your modesty until we make things official." He dragged her head down for another slow, deep kiss and then he forced himself to his feet. He stretched broadly, flexing his muscles for the sheer physical pleasure of it. He hadn't felt this good in a long, long time. A year, to be exact.

  "You don't have to walk me back to my room. It's just across the patio. Won't take me ten seconds to get there." Margaret was already reaching for her swimsuit and a towel. He watched her fasten the bra of the suit and wrap the towel around her waist.

  "Hey, you're not the only old-fashioned one around here. I'm a little old-fashioned myself. I always walk my dates home, if I can't persuade them to stay until morning." He spoke lightly but when she gave him a strange, searching glance, he frowned. "Something wrong?"

  She shook her head quickly, her still damp hair clinging beguilingly to her throat. "No. I was just remembering something someone had said to me a couple of days ago at a book signing session. Something about cowboys being old-fashioned when it came to things like women."

  "Yeah, well, that's what I am when you come right down to it, Maggie, love. A cowboy."

  "But you're a very modern sort of cowboy," she said, as if trying to convince herself of something. "You run a large corporation and you routinely make multimillion-dollar deals."

  "I can also work cattle and break a horse."

  "You can order good wine when the occasion calls for it."

  "Yeah, but I don't drink it unless somebody's holding a gun to my head."

  "You know the best hotels to stay in when you travel."

  "I can also build a fire and skin a rabbit."

  "Rafe, I'm trying to make a point here."
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  "So? What's the fact that I can move in two different worlds got to do with anything? Once a cowboy, always a cowboy. Take a look at your father. He was born and raised on a ranch. He may have gotten an engineering degree but that doesn't change what he is deep down inside. That's one of the reasons he and I get along. We understand each other."

  "Oh, what's the use. You may be right. I have to tell you the truth, Rafe. I never wanted to get involved with a cowboy, modern or otherwise."

  "Too bad, Maggie, love, because you are involved with one. For your own sake, don't go trying to convince yourself you've gotten hooked up with one of those new, sensitive, right-thinking males you read about in ladies' magazines."

  Margaret wrinkled her nose. "What would you know about the new, sensitive, right-thinking man? You don't read women's magazines."

  "I heard all about 'em from Julie once when she was trying to convince me to approve of some damned psychologist she was dating."

  "Rafe, did you ruin that relationship for her?"

  "I didn't have to. The guy ruined it for himself. She found out he was seeing someone else on the side and when she confronted him he told her he needed a relationship in which he could be free to explore his full potential as a human being."

  Margaret eyed him curiously. "What happened?"

  "What do you think happened? Julie's a Cassidy, too. Cassidys don't believe in open relationships. She gave him a swift kick in his new, sensitive, right-thinking rear."

  "Good for her," Margaret said automatically and then frowned darkly. "Still, you shouldn't judge the new, sensitive, right-thinking man by one bad apple, Rafe."

  "I'm not going to judge the new, sensitive, right-thinking man at all. I'm going to ignore him and so are you." He bent his head and brushed her lips with his own.

  Her mouth was still full and soft from the aftereffects of their recent lovemaking. The scent of her hung in the room and would be clinging to his sheets. Rafe felt himself getting hard all over again just thinking about what was going to happen to him when he climbed back into those sheets.

  "Rafe?"

  "You're sure you want to go?"

  "Yes."

  "As I said, I can wait. I'm one hell of a patient man, Maggie, love." He pulled on his trunks, took her hand and led her out into the starlit patio.

  Margaret rose very early the next morning after a restless night's sleep. Her thoughts, confused and chaotic, had tumbled about in her head after Rafe had left her to return to his own room. She could not regret their lovemaking or the resumption of their precarious relationship, but she knew there was trouble on the horizon.

  There were too many unresolved issues, too many things from the past that had not changed. Rafe was still Rafe. And that meant there would be problems.

  Still, this morning she could allow herself to think more positively about the possibilities of an affair with the man she loved. She would never find anyone else like him, Margaret knew.

  She chose a pair of designer jeans that were cut to show off her small waist and emphasize the flare of her hips. She added a rakish red shirt and sandals and went out into the patio to savor the short cool hours of early morning in the desert. Soon the temperature would start climbing rapidly.

  "Good morning, Margaret. Come and join me in a cup of coffee."

  Margaret glanced in surprise at Bev Cassidy who was sitting alone under the umbrella. A stout-looking woman in her fifties had just finished putting a silver pot of coffee and a tray of fresh breakfast pastries and fruit down on the table. The woman smiled at Margaret and nodded a greeting. Margaret smiled back.

  "Margaret, this is Ellen. Ellen comes in during the days to take care of the house for Rafe."

  "Ellen."

  "Nice to meet you, Miss Lark. Hope you enjoy your stay. By the way, I love your books."

  "Thank you very much."

  "Sit down," Bev urged as the housekeeper disappeared.

  "You're up bright and early, Bev." Margaret summoned up a smile and walked over to take a seat opposite her hostess. She had known when she had boarded the plane that there would be no way to avoid Rafe's mother. She braced herself for this first one-on-one confrontation.

  "I love the early hours in the desert." Bev poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Margaret. "Did you sleep well, dear?"

  Margaret took refuge in a social white lie. "Very well, thank you."

  Bev smiled gently. "I'm sorry you had to learn about your father's engagement the way you did. Rafe was very insistent on keeping the full truth from you until…" She let the words slide away into nothingness.

  "Until he was ready to close his trap?" Margaret nodded as she sipped her coffee. "That's Rafe, all right. Sneaky." She reached for a slice of melon.

  Bev let out a small sigh. "He cares very deeply about you, Margaret. I hadn't fully realized just how much until you left him last year."

  "I would like to clear up a major misconception around here, Bev. I didn't leave Rafe. He told me to get out of his life."

  "And you went."

  "Yes."

  Bev slowly shook her head. "I won't deny that at the time I thought it was for the best."

  "I can imagine your feelings on the matter. I know exactly how you felt about me as a wife for your son." Margaret smiled to cancel any bitterness that might have tinged the words. "If it makes you feel any better, I've come to agree with you."

  Bev's eyes widened with sudden shock. "What are you saying?"

  "That you were right when you told me I would make a lousy wife for Rafe."

  "I only said that because I was afraid you would try to change him—make him into something he was not. Margaret, please believe me when I tell you that I never had anything at all against you personally. The truth is, I like you very much. I admire you." Bev smiled. "I've even started reading your books. I'm enjoying Ruthless enormously."

  Margaret grinned. "As any author will tell you, flattery will get you anywhere. We're suckers for people who say they like our books."

  "Good. Then perhaps you'll forgive me for some of the things I said to you last year?"

  "We both know they were true, Bev. I would probably make Rafe very unhappy, frustrated and eventually blazingly angry if I were to marry him."

  "I used to think so but I'm not so sure about that anymore, Margaret."

  "I am. For starters, I would insist on our relationship getting equal billing with his business interests. Truth be known, I'd go farther than that. If the chips were down, I'd insist that our marriage come first. I would make every effort to force him to live a more balanced life. I would make him work regular hours and take vacations. And I would not play the role of the self-sacrificing executive's wife who always puts her husband's career first."

  Bev sighed. "I sensed that when I met you. I think I reacted so strongly to you because I had played exactly that role for Rafe's father. I was certain Rafe needed a wife who would do the same."

  "I think you're right. He does need a wife like that. But I couldn't live that life, Bev. It would turn me bitter and unhappy within a very short period of time. I want a husband who loves me more than he loves his corporation. I want a man who puts me first. I want to be the most important thing in his life. And we both know that for Rafe, business is the most important thing in the world. For him, a wife will be only a convenience."

  "Margaret, listen to me. Last year I believed that every bit as much as you did. But now I no longer think that's true. Rafe has changed during the past year. Your walking out on him did that."

  "I did not walk out on him."

  "All right, all right, I didn't mean to put it that way." Bev held up one hand in a placating fashion. "Losing you did change him, though. I wouldn't have believed it possible if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Until you were gone, he was as driven to succeed as his father had been—more so because the stakes were higher after John died."

  Margaret frowned. "Rafe was trying to show that he could be as successful as his father?"<
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  "No, he was trying to rescue us from the financial disaster in which John left us." Bev's mouth tightened. "My husband was a good man in many respects, but his business was everything to him. He ate, slept and breathed Cassidy and Company. But shortly before he was killed in a plane accident, he suffered some enormous financial losses. You'll have to ask Rafe for the details. It had to do with some risky investments that went bad."

  "Was Rafe involved?"

  Bev shook her head. "No. Rafe had gone off on his own. He was too much like John in many ways and he knew it. He realized from the time he was in high school that he could never work for his father. They would have been constantly at each other's throats. They were both stubborn, both smart and both insisted on being in charge. An impossible working situation."

  "Did your husband accept that?"

  "To his credit, John did understand. He wished Rafe well when Rafe started his own business. But John always assumed that when he retired, Rafe would take over Cassidy and Company and then John was killed."

  Margaret watched Bev toy with her coffee cup. "Rafe did come back to take over Cassidy and Company, then, didn't he? Just as your husband would have wanted."

  "Oh, yes. Rafe took the reins. And that's when we discovered that John had been on the brink of bankruptcy. Rafe worked night and day to save the business and he did save it. Against all odds. You can be certain the financial community had already written off Cassidy and Company. We survived and the company is flourishing now, but the experience did something to Rafe."

  "What do you mean?"

  Bev poured more coffee. "Watching Rafe work to salvage Cassidy and Company was like watching steel being forged in fire. He went into the whole thing as a strong man or he wouldn't have survived. But he came out of it much harder, more ruthless and a lot stronger than he'd been before his experience. Too hard, too ruthless and too strong in some ways. His sister Julie calls him a gunslinger because he's made a habit of taking on all challengers."

  Margaret had never met Julie. There had been no opportunity. But it sounded as if the woman had her brother pegged. She looked down into the depths of her coffee. "He didn't like losing to Moorcroft's firm last year."