The Cowboy

the desert stretched out in all directions, meeting the purple mountains in the distance.
    "It's summer in the desert," Rafe pointed out. "What did you expect? You'll get used to it."
    "Never in a million years."
    "I know it's not Seattle." Rafe led the way to a silver-gray Mercedes parked in the short-term parking lot. "Gets a little warm down here in the summer. But as I said, you get used to it."
    "You might be able to get accustomed to it, but I certainly never would." It was a challenge and she knew it.
    "Try, Maggie," he advised laconically. "Try real hard. You're going to be here awhile. Might as well learn to enjoy it."
    "Threats already, Rafe?"
    "No, ma'am. Just a little good advice." He unlocked the passenger door of the Mercedes and held it open for her.
    She glared up at him as she slid into the seat. The glare turned to a wince of pain as the sun-heated leather burned through her thin silk suit.
    "I'll have the air conditioner going in a minute," Rafe promised. He tossed her bags into the trunk and then got in beside her to start the Mercedes. When the car purred to life he paused for a moment with his big, capable hands on the wheel and looked at Margaret. There was a dark hunger in his eyes but it was overlaid with a cold self-control.
    Margaret was grateful for the protection of her sunglasses. "How far is it to your ranch?"
    "It's a few miles out of town," he said carelessly, his attention clearly on other things. "You know something? It's hard to believe you're really here. It's about time, lady."
    She didn't like the way he said that. "You didn't give me much choice, did you?"
    "No."
    "I should have known I wasn't going to get an apology out of you."
    "For what?"
    "For your high-handed, arrogant, overbearing tactics," she snapped, goaded.
    "Oh, those. No, you shouldn't expect an apology. I did what I had to do." He put the Mercedes in gear and pulled smoothly out of the lot. "I had to get you down here, Maggie. There wasn't any other way to do it."
    "You're wasting your time, Rafe. And please stop calling me Maggie. You gave me your word you'd remember to call me Margaret."
    "I said I'd try to remember."
    "Try, Rafe," she murmured, mimicking his earlier words. "Try real hard."
    Rafe gave her an amused look as he stopped to hand some cash to the gate attendant. "But I've got a lot on my mind these days and the small stuff tends to slip through the cracks."
    Her hands clenched in her lap. "That's all I ever was to you, wasn't it, Rafe? Small stuff. Unimportant stuff."
    "You're small, all right." His voice had an affectionate, teasing edge to it now as he pulled away from the gate. "But no way are you going to slip through the cracks. Not this time."
    "You don't want me back, Rafe."
    "No? Why would I go to all the bother of blackmail to get you here if I didn't want you back?"
    She frowned. "I've been thinking about that. The only conclusion I can come up with is that in your mind I'm the one who got away. It's true you kicked me out of your life, but when I went without a backward glance and stayed out, your ego took a beating, didn't it?"
    "You did a number on my ego, all right," he agreed dryly. "It hasn't been the same since."
    "Is that what this is all about? Revenge?" She shivered, remembering what Jack Moorcroft had said.
Cassidy is out for blood
.
    "I would do a lot of things for revenge under certain circumstances," Rafe said, "but getting married isn't one of them. I'm not masochistic. Don't make any mistake about it, Maggie. I brought you down here to give myself some time to undue the damage that got done last year."
    "The damage is irreparable."
    "No, it's not. We're going to put that mess behind us and get on with our lives."
    "I have been getting on with my life," she pointed out. "Very nicely, thank you. I've been quite happy this past year."
    "Lucky you. I've been to hell and back."
    She sucked in her breath. "Rafe, please, don't say things like that. We both know you're not the type to pine for a woman, especially one you think betrayed you. You're far more likely to look for a way to reap some vengeance against her. And I suspect that's exactly what you're doing by going after my father's firm."
    "I'm not going after it. Your dad wants to sell to me. It's a profitable operation that will fit in well with the other businesses Cassidy and Company runs, so I'm taking a serious look at it. That's all there is to it."
    "I don't believe that."
    "I know. That's why you're here, isn't it?