The Cowboy

bedroom."
    "Sure thing, Rafe. Afternoon, Miss Lark. We've been expecting you. Have a good trip?"
    "Fine, thank you, Tom." Margaret smiled coolly at him. "Where is the pool?"
    Tom looked surprised. "The pool? Out in the patio. Straight through the house. But don't you want to settle into your room first? Maybe change your clothes?" He eyed her silk suit dubiously.
    "I want to see my father first. This is a business trip as far as I'm concerned."
    "Oh, yeah. Sure. Business." Tom was obviously baffled by that statement. "Like I said, right through the middle of the house."
    Margaret did not wait for Rafe to do the honors. She felt his sardonic gaze on her as she turned and strode straight toward the wide, dark wooden door of the Spanish-style home. She opened it and found herself in a cool, tiled hall. The air-conditioning felt wonderful. She took off her sunglasses and glanced around with unwilling curiosity.
    This was Rafe's hideaway, she knew, the Cassidy family ranch. He had mentioned it once or twice during the brief time she had been dating him. It was the place he came to when the pressure of his fast-track life-style occasionally caught up with him. That wasn't often. Rafe's stamina was legendary.
    The Southwestern style of the outside of Rafe's home had been carried on inside. Soft earthtones, terra cotta, peach and pale turquoise dominated. Here and there was a shot of black in the form of a vase or a lamp. Heavily beamed ceilings and rugs with geometric Indian designs woven into them gave a rustic effect that was also surprisingly gracious.
    Through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one entire wall of the long living room Margaret could see the pool. It occupied the center of a beautifully landscaped courtyard that was enclosed by the four wings of the house. Two figures were seated under an umbrella, a pitcher of tea on the table between them. Connor Lark and Beverly Cassidy were laughing in delight over some private joke.
    Margaret watched the couple for a moment, uncertainty seizing her insides. Her father looked happy—happier than she had ever seen him since her mother died several years ago. She sensed suddenly that her mission to rescue him was going to be difficult to carry out.
    "What's the matter, Maggie? Afraid it's not going to be so simple after all?" Rafe asked as he walked into the hall behind her. "I told you they were made for each other."
    She glanced back at him, her eyes narrowing. "Hard to imagine you as a matchmaker, Rafe."
    "You think I arranged for them to fall for each other just to make it easier to get my hands on Lark Engineering?" He sounded amused. "I'm good, Maggie, but I'm not that good. I take full responsibility for introducing them. After that, they did it all by themselves."
    "You think you're very clever, don't you?"
    "If I were really clever, we wouldn't have wasted a year of our lives apart. Look, Maggie, do everyone a favor and don't take your father's relationship with my mother as a personal threat, okay? The fact that he fell in love with her doesn't translate directly into a betrayal of you. It's not like your father has gone over to the enemy camp."
    Her fingers tightened on the strap of her purse as the shot went home. A part of her had been viewing the situation in exactly that light, she acknowledged privately. It was irrational but the feeling was there on some level. "My father was already halfway into the enemy camp before he met your mother. He took to you right from the start, didn't he?"
    "He thought I'd make you a good husband. He was right."
    "Oh, yes, he thought you were the ideal husband for me. A genuine cowboy. The son he'd never had, or something along those lines I imagine. I swear, if he'd had the power to arrange the marriage, I think he would have done it. Lark Engineering would have been my dowry."
    "There is something to be said for arranged marriages, isn't there?"
    "This is not a joke, Rafe."
    "So Connor and I get along." Rafe leaned against the wall and folded his arms. "So what?"
    Margaret smiled grimly. "Well, at least I've got one person on my side."
    "Who?" His eyes were taunting.
    "Your mother. She must have been enormously relieved when you threw me out of your life last year."
    The lines of his face hardened. "Don't count on it. And stop saying I threw you out."
    "That's what happened."
    "It was your damn pride that screwed everything up, and you know it. If you'd had the grace to admit you were wrong a year ago, we could have