Date with a Cowboy

by Diana Palmer

  And what could have happened, but didn’t.

  “I just don’t think—” Molly’s voice played out under that hot, probing gaze.

  “Pease, Mommy,” Trent begged.

  “Oh, all right. Just don’t keep him out long, Worth.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  The old sarcastic Worth was back, but she ignored that and added, “I mean it.” She knew she sounded unreasonably controlling, but she didn’t care. The thought of the two of them alone was like a knife turning in her heart.

  But why punish her child for her sins? She couldn’t. Besides, she would be leaving soon, and she wouldn’t have to worry about those unexpected twists and turns.

  “Yippee!” Trent cried, zipping around and running toward the door.

  Before Worth followed, a smile almost broke through his tight lips. “I’d say he’s excited.”

  Molly wanted to respond in kind, but her lips felt glued together.

  Worth cocked his head to one side. “By the way, I’m having my parents, Olivia and John Lipscomb over tonight.”

  “For dinner?” Molly asked in a business tone.

  “No. Just for snacks and drinks.”

  “Consider it taken care of.”

  Worth deliberately perused her body with that cynical curl to his lips. “I never doubted that.” He then tipped his hat. “See ya.”

  Molly attacked the next piece of silver with such vengeance, she almost broke her hand.

  He’d had a great time with the kid, which was both good and bad. The good was that Trent made him laugh, something that he rarely did anymore. It seemed like the laughter had left his body at the same time Molly had left his life.

  That kind of thinking was as crazy as it was untrue. Still, more often than not, he realized he walked around with a surly look on his face.

  The bad was that the boy made Worth yearn for a son of his own, a gift that would never be his.

  Muttering a sailor’s curse under his breath, Worth strode into his room where he shed his clothes. It was much later than he’d thought; hence his parents, et al. would soon be arriving. He prided himself on punctuality; this evening was no exception, even if he dreaded what lay ahead.

  Lately, his parents got on his nerves big time. Olivia, too. John Lipscomb, his potential campaign manager, was the only one he looked forward to seeing. Suddenly, Worth felt the need for a beer. Maybe that would put him in a better frame of mind.

  But since he was naked, he could forget that. Naked. He groaned, that word bringing back memories of that bathroom debacle. He laughed without mirth. Who was he kidding? That memory had never left him; since it had happened, it had haunted him day and night.

  Even this afternoon, when he’d seen Molly in the kitchen, polishing silver, he could barely remember what she had on, though he figured it was her usual work attire—a pair of low-cut jeans, belt and tight-fitting white shirt.

  In his mind, she was naked.

  Envisioning her perfect breasts, perfect tush, perfect legs, perfect skin and perfect lush lips had shot his libido into overdrive at the same time his control took a kamikaze dive. His body so burned to take her, he’d barely been able to contain himself.

  Worth licked his dry lips, wanting a beer more by the second. Again, he glanced at his watch and noticed he scarcely had time to get a shower and dress before the guests arrived. But this was his house, and if he was late, then so be it.

  He needed a drink.

  With that, he slipped back into his jeans and made his way into the kitchen where he pulled up short. Molly was still there—working.

  “What the hell?” he said in a rougher tone than he meant.

  “Good evening to you, too.”

  Though he heard the sting in her voice, she kept her gaze averted. He wondered if that was on purpose since she probably saw, out of her peripheral vision, he was only half-dressed.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, charging for the fridge and grabbing a beer.

  “No, you’re not.” With her head lowered, Molly never stopped arranging fruit on a tray.

  He pulled in his breath and stared at a spot where her hair didn’t quite touch her collar, thus exposing a bare place on her neck. He clenched his fists, longing to lean over and lick that soft skin, knowing it would feel like velvet under his tongue.

  Then realizing what she’d said, he made a face. “What does that mean?”

  “You might say you’re sorry, but you’re not, especially when it pertains to me.”

  He was about to open his mouth and tell her that was a damned lie. But then he slammed it back shut, knowing she was right. He wasn’t sorry he’d spoken harshly to her. Any contact with her now seemed to bring out the worst in him.

  Worth wanted what he couldn’t have, and that was her. Every time he saw Molly that fact ate a bigger hole in his gut and made him angry to boot, an anger he took out on her. What a freakin’ mess.

  “You’re right, I’m not sorry.”

  “What do you want?” she asked in a tired voice.

  “A beer, which I got.” He paused, then added, “You look ready to drop in your tracks.”

  “I’m about finished.”

  “Good Lord, Molly, we’re not feeding five thousand tonight.”

  “I haven’t fixed for five thousand, either.” Her tone was hostile.

  His gaze perused the table full of food. “Sure appears that way to me.”

  She merely looked at him.

  Worth shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, so I don’t know a damn thing when it comes to entertaining.”

  “Enough said,” Molly responded with a wry tone.

  He took another swig of beer before he asked, “Is Kathy helping you serve?”

  “No, she’s not feeling well.”

  “Dammit, Molly, you’re not superwoman.”

  Her head popped back. “Who told you that?”

  She sounded so serious that for a second, he was so taken aback, he actually laughed.

  It was then his eyes trapped hers and the room seemed to tilt. In one giant step Worth ate up the distance between them and was about to reach for her when she skirted around him and dashed for the door.

  He muttered an oath.

  At the door, she turned but couldn’t seem to say anything, which told him she was as shaken as he, especially since her chest was heaving.

  Finally, though, in a surprisingly neutral tone, she said, “Thanks for taking Trent riding. He had a great time.”

  Worth bowed, then responded in his most cynical tone, “My pleasure.”

  “Dammit, boy, you beat all.”

  “Now, Dad, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to have a heart attack.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Eva said. “He doesn’t have a bad heart. But he might, if you don’t stop playing cat and mouse with your future.”

  “Your mother’s right, Worth,” John pitched in, his features and voice filled with undisguised concern. “Push has come to shove. You have to make a decision.”

  His guests had just arrived, and he was already eager for them to go home. The moment after they were seated in the living room and ordered their drinks, they had done nothing but rap on his ears about whether he was going to run for office or not.

  The bad part about it was they were right. If he was indeed going to enter the race, he needed to make up his mind and make it up now. But there was just something inside him that kept him from saying the word yes and meaning it definitively.

  Which probably meant he didn’t have the heart of a politician.

  “I’m with them, Worth,” Olivia said, sidling up closer to him on the sofa, and grabbing his hand, then bringing it up to her lips. For some reason, his gaze went straight to Molly, who was at the bar mixing John a drink. If she saw Olivia’s intimate gesture, she chose to ignore it.

  No matter. Worth removed his hand with as much grace as possible, suddenly repulsed by Olivia’s touch. God, everything that he’d once held near and dear seemed to
have gone down the tubes.

  Once Molly had handed John his drink, she said, “Is there anything else I can get you?” She paused and smiled. “As you can see, the table is filled with hors d’oeuvres and plenty of sweets.”

  “Thank you, Molly,” Eva said in a stilted tone. “You’ve done a great job.”

  Worth knew Molly well enough to sense she was having difficulty keeping a straight face. He also knew that Molly thought his mother was a snob in the truest meaning of the word.

  It was in that moment that his and Molly’s eyes accidentally met. Later, he told himself he was nuts, but at the time he could’ve sworn she had winked at him, as though she knew he’d read her mind.

  Then Molly smiled again and said, “I’ll be back shortly to check on you.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Eva said, turning to Worth. “We won’t need her anymore, as we have private matters to discuss. Right, son?”

  Worth gave his mother a withering look as he opened his mouth to refute her words. He never got the chance to speak.

  Molly beat him to the draw. “Fine, Eva. I’m sure they can depend on you to mix and serve their drinks.”

  With a horrified look on her face, Eva opened her mouth to speak only nothing came out.

  That was when Molly smiled her sweetest smile yet and spoke in her syrupiest southern drawl, “Good night y’all. I sure hope you have a pleasant evening.”

  Sixteen

  Man, he was glad that ordeal was over.

  Then Worth felt his conscience pinch him. Those were his folks he was thinking ill of, and the woman he’d been squiring around. Even though he had no intention of marrying her, he should still treat her with respect. As for John, there was no problem. He was a good friend and seemed to want only what was best for Worth.

  The others—well, Worth wasn’t so sure. That was why his feet were heavy as he made his way toward his bedroom. He paused in his thoughts, toying with the idea of grabbing another beer. Since he’d already had more than his share, he kept going.

  His parents and Olivia had tried to pin him to the wall the entire evening, but he’d held firm in his convictions. He still hadn’t made up his mind about running for office, which was not like him. Waffling was another word that normally wasn’t in his vocabulary. Again, until he was fully committed and excited himself, he wasn’t going to sign on just to please others.

  While the political pressure hadn’t been comfortable, it hadn’t bothered him nearly as much as his mother’s put-down of Molly. When Eva had all but dismissed her as nothing more than a servant, Worth had been furious. Yet he’d kept his mouth shut, which made him despise himself. But what could he have said that wouldn’t have sent up a smoke signal? And for what purpose?

  He wanted Molly, wanted her so badly he could taste it. But his bodily needs and cravings were nobody’s business but his. Besides, nothing would ever come of his hot, scorching desires.

  He’d already suffered third-degree burns at her expense, and he didn’t have that much skin left to spare. Besides that, she was no longer a road he wanted to travel.

  He was certain Molly didn’t want to relive that pain and heartache, either. Yet if she didn’t hurry up and leave, he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands to himself. God, he ached to touch her, to taste her, to …

  “Stuff it, Cavanaugh,” he muttered, upping his pace down the hall. He was one tired mother and the sooner he got to bed, the sooner his mind would find relief.

  He almost laughed at that thought. Since Molly had entered the door of the ranch house, sleep had escaped him, except for short catnaps. Thank goodness, he was lucky he didn’t need much shut-eye to keep going.

  It was when he passed Molly’s room that he heard a sound, a sound he couldn’t identify. Not at first, anyway. He paused outside her door and listened.

  Sobs.

  Muffled.

  But gut-wrenching sobs, nonetheless.

  Worth continued to stand as though cemented to the spot, not knowing what to do. Then, as if his hand had a mind of its own, he slowly twisted the doorknob.

  She hated them all, especially Eva.

  Molly had never been vindictive and didn’t think of herself as that now. But she’d had enough of those people and could not wait to get out of their sight, determined never to see them again.

  When she’d been dismissed like a piece of garbage by that conniving, mean-spirited mother of Worth’s, she’d almost packed her bags, put her son in the car and hauled it out of there.

  By the time she returned to her room, took a hot shower, slipped on a silk nightgown and crawled into bed, she had calmed down. But not much. Now, as she lay in a fetal position, resentment and anger welled up inside her, so much that she wanted to scream. Instead she cried.

  Molly didn’t know what she’d expected after the attack in the living room. Yes, she did. She had expected Worth to defend her, to take up for her. Then she realized that was not only crazy, but it wasn’t going to happen.

  After all, he was the leader of the pack against her. From the get-go, he’d resented the hell out of her—first, for returning to the ranch and second, for staying. The only reason he tolerated her was because of her mother’s health problem.

  Another sob stuck in her throat as she curled tighter. If only she didn’t care what Worth thought or did. If only she didn’t care he hadn’t come to her rescue verbally.

  But she did care, and that was what was killing her.

  Trapped.

  She felt like a trapped animal, and that didn’t sit well with her. The Cavanaugh clan had already wreaked more havoc in her life than anyone or anything ever had. And they were continuing to do so, which made her feel badly about herself.

  Especially since she still wanted the one man she could never have. Worth, she had decided, was in her bloodstream, and she would never get rid of him. No matter where she was, if he came around, she would want him. She had decided that would never change. But that didn’t mean she had to give in to that desire, that craving of her body.

  Once she left the ranch, she would lick her wounds. Time would take care of much of her pain. Too, she had Trent. From the day he was born, he had been the main focus in her life. Once they arrived at the ranch, Worth had cluttered her mind. Once they were back in Houston, Trent would take top priority again.

  Her son and her job.

  An awesome combination. With both, she could be happy and content once again. She didn’t need a man, certainly not one who didn’t want her or he wouldn’t have let his parents send her away.

  She just had to keep Trent and the secret she bore up front in her mind, and she would prevail. Those two things gave her the courage to uncoil her body and try to get some sleep.

  Molly had just tossed the blanket back, the gas logs burning low, making cover a bit much, when she heard what sounded like the knob on her door turning. She stilled herself and held her breath.

  “Molly?”

  Worth!

  Oh, God, what should she do?

  “Are you all right?”

  She could barely hear him as he was as close to whispering as his deep voice would allow.

  Pushing the panic button, she remained silent, hoping he’d get the message she didn’t want to be disturbed, especially by him.

  Her ploy failed.

  Then the door opened more, and he walked into the shadowy room. Her heart jumped into the back of her throat making speech impossible. Once again her silence backfired, seeming to give him courage to forge forward until he reached the side of her bed.

  Molly squeezed her eyes tightly together, praying he would think she’d fallen asleep. She realized, however, that the fresh tears saturating her cheeks said otherwise. When she felt the mattress give beside her, her eyes flew open.

  “Worth,” she said in an aching tone.

  “Shh, it’s okay.” His voice literally shook with emotion as he stared down at her in the glow of the fire.

  “No, it’s not,” she whimp
ered, feeling a new set of tears cloud her vision.

  “You’re right, it’s not,” he acknowledged in that same emotional voice. “I should’ve kicked some ass tonight, mine included.”

  “I want to go home.” Her tone was so low, she wasn’t sure he had heard her. He had.

  “I don’t blame you,” he said, letting out a shuddering breath.

  Another silence.

  “You … you should go,” Molly whispered, starting to curl into that fetal position again.

  “No.”

  The edge in his voice stopped her cold.

  “I want to look at you.” His voice now shook. “You’re even lovelier than I remembered.”

  Without thinking, Molly lowered her gaze and saw that her breasts and nipples were swollen and pushing against the silk. When she raised her eyes, fire burned in his, especially when he reached out and removed one strap, exposing one full breast.

  His breathing faltered, and he closed his eyes for a moment. If only she hadn’t let Trent spend the night in Maxine’s room, she’d have a valid excuse for calling a halt to this madness.

  “Molly … please don’t send me away.”

  “Worth, you’re not playing fair.” She felt desperate not to give in to his pleading, but she felt herself weakening.

  “Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll go.”

  “I don’t want you.”

  Worth focused on her with piercing intensity. “Do you really mean that?”

  “No … I mean …” She couldn’t go on, not when his hand cupped that exposed breast and a moan of despair escaped her.

  “God, Molly,” he ground out, leaning over and tonguing that bare flesh until the nipple was ripe and pulsating. “I can’t leave you now.”

  In that moment, she was lost. It was beyond her capacity to do anything more than lay there and let him have his way with her. After all, that was what she’d been wanting since the day she’d arrived and had seen him.

  Like she’d admitted, he was in her blood and she would never cease to want him. Now was her chance to love him one last time. And she wasn’t going to pass it up—right or wrong.