The Cowboy

things are going at the main office. But that's all. I've delegated almost everything else. I'm only available for world-class emergencies. Satisfied?"
    "You don't have to worry about my feelings on the subject," Margaret said. "Not anymore. You're free to run your life any way you choose."
    "Ouch." Connor winced.
    "I know what you mean," Rafe remarked. "She's been sniping at me like that every chance she gets. But I've promised myself I'll be tolerant, patient and understanding. She can't keep it up forever."
    "Don't bet on it." Margaret got to her feet. "I believe I will have that swim now. If you'll excuse me, Bev?"
    "Of course, dear. The water is lovely."
    Bev looked relieved to see her go. But there was an unexpected trace of unhappiness in her gaze, too, Margaret noticed. She wondered about that as she turned to walk back into the house. Surely after the things Bev Cassidy had said to her last year, she couldn't be hoping for a reconciliation between her son and his errant mistress.
    Mistress. The old-fashioned word still burned in Margaret's ears whenever she remembered Bev's last words to her.
You'd make him a better mistress than you would a wife
.
    "Cocktails at six out here by the pool, dear," Bev called after her. "We'll be eating around seven-thirty. Connor and Rafe have promised to grill us some steaks."
    "Right," Connor said cheerfully. "Got us some of the biggest, juiciest, thickest steaks on the face of the planet."
    Margaret laughed for the first time since Thursday night. She looked back at the small group gathered under the umbrella. "I almost forgot to mention that I've made a few life-style changes myself during the past year."
    "Such as?" Rafe asked, lion's eyes watchful.
    "I never touch red meat." Margaret walked on into the cool house, paying no attention to her father's bellow of astonishment.
     
     
    S hortly after one o'clock in the morning, Margaret eased open the patio door of her bedroom and slipped out into the silent courtyard. She had changed into her bathing suit a few minutes earlier, finally admitting that she was not going to be able to sleep.
    The balmy desert air was still amazingly warm. It carried a myriad of soft scents from the gardens. Overhead, the star-studded sky stretched into a dark infinity. Margaret had the feeling that if she listened closely she might actually be able to hear a coyote howl from some nearby hilltop.
    The underwater lights of the swimming pool glowed invitingly. Margaret slipped off her sandals and slid into the water. She hovered weightlessly for a long moment and then began to swim the length of the pool. The tension in her muscles slowly dissolved.
    It had been a difficult evening.
    If she had any sense she would leave tomorrow, she told herself as she reached the far end of the pool and started back. It was the only thing to do. Her father was happy. It was obvious he was not being bamboozled out of Lark Engineering. He truly wanted to sell out to Rafe so there was nothing she could say or do. It was his business, after all.
    Yes, she should definitely leave tomorrow. But every time she felt Rafe's eyes on her she found herself looking for an excuse to stay. The excuse of doing battle with him was the only one she had.
    There was no sound behind her on the flagstone but something made Margaret pause in the water and look back toward the far side of the pool. Rafe stood there in the shadows clad in only a snug-fitting pair of swim trunks. Moonlight gleamed on his broad shoulders and in the darkness his eyes were watchful and mysterious.
    "Couldn't sleep?" he asked softly.
    "No." She treaded water wondering if she should flee back to the safety of her bedroom. But she seemed to lack the strength of will to get out of the pool.
    "Neither could I. I've been lying in bed wondering what kind of reception I'd get if I went to your bedroom."
    "A very cold reception."
    "You think so? I'm not so sure. That's what was keeping me awake, you know. The uncertainty." He lowered himself silently into the water and stroked quietly toward her.
    Margaret instinctively edged back until her shoulders were against the side of the pool. She gripped the tiled edge with one hand as Rafe came to a halt in front of her. "Rafe, I don't think this is a good idea. I came out here to swim alone."
    "You're not alone any longer." He put his hands on either side of her, gripping the tile and effectively caging her against the side of the pool. But he made no move to bring his