JAKrentz - The Pirate, The Adventurer, & The Cowboy (61 page)

"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?"

"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."

"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.

«
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"W
hat 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 don'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?"