"One of these days we'll start planning another one."
His certainty always left her feeling breathless. "Will we?"
"Yeah, Maggie, love. We will."
"I thought I was going to get plenty of time to make up my mind."
"I promised you a little time to get used to the idea of marrying me, but don't expect me to give you an unlimited amount of rope. Knowing you, you'd just get yourself all tangled up in it."
She shook her head in wry wonder. "You are always so sure of yourself, aren't you?"
"I am when I know what I want." Rafe came to a halt in the middle of the dance floor. "And now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to make the big announcement. I've been assigned to do the honors."
"Doesn't it seem a little odd that you're announcing your own mother's engagement?"
"We live in interesting times." He kissed her forehead. "Be back in a few minutes."
The crowd broke into loud applause and cheers as Rafe grabbed a bottle of champagne, vaulted up onto the diving board and strode out to the far end. He held up the bottle in his hand to get the crowd's attention.
"You all know why you're here tonight, but I've been told to make it official," he began with a grin. "I would therefore like to say that it gives me great pleasure to do as my Mama tells me and announce her engagement to one smooth-talking cowboy named Connor Lark."
A roar of approval went up. Rafe gave the crowd a couple of minutes to grow quiet once more before he continued.
"I'm here to tell you folks that I've got no choice but to approve of this match. It's not just because I've had Lark checked out and decided he can take care of my Mama in the style to which she has become accustomed—"
The crowd interrupted with a burst of applause.
"And it's not just because she seems to actually like the guy or the fact that he's crazy about her. No, folks, I am giving my heartfelt approval to this match because Lark has informed me that if I do not, he will personally drag me out into the desert and stake me out over an anthill. Folks, I am a reasonable man. I want you to know I can hardly wait for Connor Lark to marry my mother."
Laughter filled the air as Rafe let the cork out of the champagne bottle with a suitable explosion. Again the crowd yelled approval. Connor, standing at the side of the pool next to Bev, grinned broadly at Rafe as he held a glass up to be filled with bubbling champagne.
Rafe filled the glass with a flourish and then a second one for his mother and everyone toasted the guests of honor. Connor finished his drink in one swallow and kissed his fiancée. Then he gave a whoop and grabbed her hand.
"Honey, let's dance," Connor crowed, sweeping Bev into a waltz. She laughed up at him with undisguised delight.
"They make a great couple, don't they?" Rafe leaped lightly down from the diving board and went to stand beside Margaret. He put an arm around her shoulder and drew her close to his side.
"Yes," Margaret said, her eyes on her father's face. "They do. I think they're going to be very happy."
"No happier than you and me, Maggie, love, you'll see." Rafe kissed her soundly and then dragged her over to the section of the patio that was being used for dancing. He smiled down into her eyes as he whirled her into the Western waltz.
A moment later the patio was filled with dancing couples and Margaret gave herself up to the joy of the music that flowed around her like champagne. Yes, she allowed herself to think for the first time in a year, yes, she could be very happy with Rafe. She could be the happiest woman in the world.
Rafe saw Hatcher hanging back as the last of the guests took their leave. He scowled at his assistant, wondering if Doug had followed orders two hours ago and laid off the booze.
"You sober enough to get behind the wheel, Hatcher?" he asked bluntly as the two men stood isolated on one side of the front drive.
"I'm fine," Hatcher muttered. "Haven't had anything but soda for the past couple of hours. Just wanted to tell you I left the Ellington file in your study. You'd better take a look at it as soon as possible."
Rafe eyed him. "Something new come up?"
Hatcher nodded, his eyes sliding away to follow the last car out of the drive. "Today. I've updated the file so you can take a look for yourself. I didn't want to say anything before the party. Seemed a shame to ruin it for you."
"Since when have I ever asked you to shield me from bad news? That's not what I pay you to do and you know it."
Hatcher's jaw tightened. "I know, but this is different, Rafe."
"What am I going to be looking at when I open the file?"
Hatcher hesitated. "The possibility that we've got a leak."
"Damn it to hell. You sure?"
"No, not entirely. Could be a coincidence that Moorcroft came up with the numbers he did today, but we've got to look at the other possibility."
"Someone gave him the information."
"Maybe."
"Yeah, maybe." Rafe watched the last set of taillights disappear down his long drive. "I thought we had this airtight, Hatcher."
"I thought we did, too."
"When I find out who's selling me out, I'll do a little bloodletting. Hope whoever it is realizes what he's risking."
"We don't know for sure yet, Rafe," Hatcher said quickly. "It really could be a genuine coincidence. But regardless of how it happened, there's no getting around the fact that we've got to counter Moorcroft's last move and fast. Thought you'd want to run the numbers yourself."
"I'll do it tonight and have an answer in the morning. Nothing gets in the way of this Ellington thing, understand? It has to go through on schedule."
"Right, well, guess I'd better be off." Hatcher nodded once more and dug his keys out of his pocket. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
Rafe stood for a while in the balmy darkness watching Hatcher's car vanish in the distance.
Vengeance was a curious thing, he acknowledged. It had the same ability to obsess a man's soul as love did.
"Rafe?"
He turned toward the sound of Maggie's soft, questioning voice. She looked so beautiful standing there in the doorway with the lights of the house behind her. His beautiful, proud Maggie. He needed her more than the desert needed the fierce storms of late summer. Without her, he was an empty man.
And if she ever realized what he was going to do to Moorcroft, she'd be furious. There was even a possibility she'd try to run from him again. He had to be careful, Rafe told himself. This was between him and Moorcroft, anyway. A little matter of vengeance and honor that had to be settled properly.
"I'm coming, Maggie, love." He started toward the doorway. "Mom and Dad still out waltzing by the pool?"
Margaret laughed. "Without a band? No, I think they gave up the waltzing in favor of getting some sleep before leaving for Sedona in the morning."
"Not a bad idea," Rafe said.
"What?"
"Sleep. I could use some myself and so could you. Good night, Maggie, love." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
Forty minutes later he watched from the other side of the patio as Margaret's light went out. For a short time he toyed with the idea of going to her room.
But the file waiting in his office was too important to ignore. He'd told Hatcher he'd have an answer by tomorrow morning.
7
« ^ »
Margaret found sleep impossible. She tossed and turned, listening to the small night sounds that drifted through her window. Her mind was not cluttered with the bright images of the successful party or thoughts of her father and his new love. She wasn't thinking about any of the many things that could have been keeping her awake.
All she could think about was Julie Cassidy's remark concerning Rafe having overcome his hawklike pride in order to find a way to get Margaret back.
The notion of Rafe Cassidy lowering his pride for a woman was literally stunning.
Margaret stared up at the ceiling and realized she had never considered the events of the past few days in those terms. She had felt
manipulated at first and there was no denying that to a great extent she had been.
But what had it cost Rafe to admit to himself and everyone else that he wanted her back?
She thought of all the times during those first few months after the disaster when she had almost picked up the phone and called him. Her own pride had stood in her way every time. She had nothing for which to apologize, she kept telling herself. She had done nothing wrong. She had tried to explain her side of the situation to Rafe and he had flatly refused to listen.
And then he had said terrible things to her, things that still had the power to make her weep if she summoned them to the surface of her consciousness.
No, she could never have made the call begging him to take her back and give her another chance. It would have meant sacrificing all of her pride and her sense of self-worth. Any man who required such an act of contrition was not worth having.
But it was a novelty to think that in some fashion Rafe's apparently high-handed actions lately bespoke a lowering of his own pride. Margaret realized she had never thought of it in that light.
It was true he had not actually admitted that he had been wrong last year. Other than to apologize grudgingly for his rough treatment of her, he had basically stuck to his belief that she was the one who was guilty of betrayal; the one who required forgiveness.
But there was also no denying that he was the one who had finally found a way to get them back together.
Of course, Margaret told herself, somewhat amused, being Rafe, he had found a way to do it that had not required an abject plea from him. Nevertheless, he had done it. They were back together, at least for now, and Rafe was talking about marriage as seriously as ever.
What's more, he really did seem to have changed. He was definitely making an effort to limit his attention to business. The Rafe she had seen so far this week was a different man than the one she had known last year in that respect. The old Rafe would never have taken the time to get so completely involved in organizing his mother's engagement party. Nor would he have spent as much time entertaining a recalcitrant lover.
Lover.
The word hovered in Margaret's mind. Whatever else he was, Rafe was indisputably the lover of her dreams.
She had missed being with him last night. She and Bev had sat up talking until very late and then retired. Margaret had toyed with the notion of waiting until the lights were out and then gliding across the patio to Rafe's room. But when she had finally glanced out into the darkness she had seen the two familiar figures splashing softly in the pool and quickly changed her mind. Her father and Bev had already commandeered the patio for a late-night tryst.
But tonight the patio was empty. Margaret pushed back the sheet and got out of bed. A glance across the patio showed that Rafe's room was dark. She smiled to herself as she imagined Rafe's reaction if she were to go to his bedroom and awaken him.
In her mind she visualized him sleeping nude in the snowy sheets. He would be on his stomach, his strong, broad shoulders beautifully contoured with moonlight. When he became aware of her presence he would roll onto his back, reach up and pull her down on top of him. He would become hard with arousal almost instantly, the way he always did when he sensed she wanted him. And she would ache with the familiar longing.
Margaret hesitated no longer. She put on the new gauzy cotton dress she had purchased while shopping with Bev and slid her feet into a pair of sandals. Then she went out into the night.
When she reached the other side of the patio it took her a few seconds to realize that Rafe was not in his room. She let herself inside and saw that the bed had never been turned down. Curious, she walked through into the hall.
The eerie glow under the study door caught her eye at once. An odd sense of guilt shafted through her. The poor man, she thought suddenly. Was this how he was accomplishing the job of proving he could love her and run a business at the same time? Had he been working nights ever since she got here?
She crossed the hall on silent feet and opened the door. The otherworldly light of the computer screen was the only illumination in the room. Rafe was bathed in it as he lounged in his chair, his booted feet propped on his desk. He had not changed since the party but his shirt was unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was tousled.
There was a file lying on the desk in front of him and a spreadsheet on the computer screen. He turned his head as he heard the door open softly. In the electronic glow the hard lines of his face seemed grimmer than usual.
Margaret lounged in the doorway and smiled. "I know you think I'm a demanding woman, but I'm not this demanding. Honest."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Rafe casually closed the file in front of him and dropped it into a drawer.
"Just that when I said I wanted our relationship to get a little more attention than your work, I didn't mean you had to resort to sneaking around in the middle of the night in order to spend some time on the job. I do understand the realities of normal business, Rafe. I worked in that world for several years, remember?"
Rafe's mouth curved faintly. "Believe me, Maggie, love, our relationship has had my full attention lately. This—" he gestured at the computer screen "—was just something Hatcher wanted me to look at. I didn't feel like sleeping yet so I thought I'd take care of it tonight." He swung his feet to the floor and punched a couple of keys on the computer. He stood up as the screen went blank. "How did you find me?"
Margaret smiled into the shadows as he walked toward her. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds that you'll think I'm fast."
His laugh was soft and sexy in the darkness. "As far as I'm concerned, you could never be too fast for me, lady, not as long as I'm the one you're chasing." He stopped in front of her and drew a finger down the side of her throat to the curve of her shoulder. He smiled knowingly as he felt her answering shiver of awareness. "You went to my bedroom, didn't you?"
"Uh-huh. You weren't there."
"So you went looking. Good. That's the way it should be." He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose and then brushed his mouth across hers. His voice deepened abruptly. "Promise me you'll always come looking for me. No matter what happens. Don't run away from me again, Maggie, love."
She touched the side of his cheek. "Not even if you send me away?"
"I was a fool. I won't make that mistake again. I learned my lesson the hard way. Promise me, Maggie. Swear it. Say you won't leave even if things get rough between us again. Fight with me, yell at me, slam a few doors, kick me in the rear, but don't leave."
She caught her breath and then, in a soft, reckless little rush she gave him the words he wanted to hear. "I won't leave."
He groaned thickly and gathered her so tightly against him that Maggie could hardly breathe. She didn't mind. She felt his lips in her hair and then his fingers were moving up her back to the nape of her neck and into her loosened hair.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and inhaled the sensual, masculine scent of him. She kissed his chest where the black shirt was open and felt him shudder.
"Maggie, love, you feel so good."
Rafe moved backward a couple of steps and sank down into his chair. He eased Maggie up against the desk in front of him until she could feel the wooden edge along the backs of her thighs. His hands went to her legs.
"Rafe, wait, we can't. Not here, like this." She stifled a tiny laugh that was part anxiety at the thought of getting caught making love in his study and part joyous arousal.
"Why not here?"
"What if someone hears us?"
"What if they do?" He pushed the gauzy cotton hem of the dress up above her knees. Then he deliberately parted her legs with his hands and kissed the sensitive skin of her upper thigh. "Anyone with half a brain who might happen to overhear us should have enough sense to ignore us."
"Yes, but." Maggie shivered delicately as she felt his mouth on the inside of her leg. His hands had lifted the skirt of the dress up to her waist. She h
eard him laugh softly as he realized she was naked under the cotton shift.
"Ah, Maggie, love, I see you dressed for the occasion."
"You're a lecherous rake, Rafe Cassidy."
"No ma'am, just a simple cowboy with simple tastes. There's nothing I like better than taking a moonlight ride with you."
"A moonlight ride? Is that what you call it?"
"Yeah. You know something? I like you best when you're stark naked." He leaned forward again in the chair and dipped his tongue into the small depression in her stomach. Then his lips worked their way downward into the tight curls below her waist.
"Rafe. Rafe." Maggie's hands clenched his shoulders. She felt unbelievably wanton and gloriously sexy as she stood there in front of him legs braced apart by his strong hands. Her head was tipped back, her hair cascading behind her. She closed her eyes as his kisses became overwhelmingly intimate.
"So good. Sweet and sexy and so hot already." Rafe eased a finger into her.
Margaret tightened instantly and cried out softly. She could hardly stand now. She leaned back against the desk, letting it support her weight. Rafe's fingers stretched her gently and she dug her nails into his shoulders.
"That's it, Maggie, love. Let me know how it feels. Tell me, sweetheart."
"You already know what you can do to me," she whispered in between gasps of pleasure.
"Yeah, but I like to hear about it." His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he looked up into her face.
"Why?"
"You know why. It makes me crazy."
She half laughed and half groaned and tangled her fingers in his hair. "You make me go crazy, Rafe. Absolutely wild. I don't even feel like myself when you touch me like this."
"Good." He stood up slowly, his hands gliding along her hips and then her waist and above her breasts. He carried the cotton dress along with the movement, lifting it up over her head. When it was free, he tossed it heedlessly onto the floor.
Margaret had one last burst of sanity. "Your room. Just across the hall. We can…"