The Cowboy

apple, Rafe."
    "I'm not going to judge the new, sensitive, right-thinking man at all. I'm going to ignore him and so are you." He bent his head and brushed her lips with his own.
    Her mouth was still full and soft from the aftereffects of their recent lovemaking. The scent of her hung in the room and would be clinging to his sheets. Rafe felt himself getting hard all over again just thinking about what was going to happen to him when he climbed back into those sheets.
    "Rafe?"
    "You're sure you want to go?"
    "Yes."
    "As I said, I can wait. I'm one hell of a patient man, Maggie, love." He pulled on his trunks, took her hand and led her out into the starlit patio.
     
     
    M argaret rose very early the next morning after a restless night's sleep. Her thoughts, confused and chaotic, had tumbled about in her head after Rafe had left her to return to his own room. She could not regret their lovemaking or the resumption of their precarious relationship, but she knew there was trouble on the horizon.
    There were too many unresolved issues, too many things from the past that had not changed. Rafe was still Rafe. And that meant there would be problems.
    Still, this morning she could allow herself to think more positively about the possibilities of an affair with the man she loved. She would never find anyone else like him, Margaret knew.
    She chose a pair of designer jeans that were cut to show off her small waist and emphasize the flare of her hips. She added a rakish red shirt and sandals and went out into the patio to savor the short cool hours of early morning in the desert. Soon the temperature would start climbing rapidly.
    "Good morning, Margaret. Come and join me in a cup of coffee."
    Margaret glanced in surprise at Bev Cassidy who was sitting alone under the umbrella. A stout-looking woman in her fifties had just finished putting a silver pot of coffee and a tray of fresh breakfast pastries and fruit down on the table. The woman smiled at Margaret and nodded a greeting. Margaret smiled back.
    "Margaret, this is Ellen. Ellen comes in during the days to take care of the house for Rafe."
    "Ellen."
    "Nice to meet you, Miss Lark. Hope you enjoy your stay. By the way, I love your books."
    "Thank you very much."
    "Sit down," Bev urged as the housekeeper disappeared.
    "You're up bright and early, Bev." Margaret summoned up a smile and walked over to take a seat opposite her hostess. She had known when she had boarded the plane that there would be no way to avoid Rafe's mother. She braced herself for this first one-on-one confrontation.
    "I love the early hours in the desert." Bev poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Margaret. "Did you sleep well, dear?"
    Margaret took refuge in a social white lie. "Very well, thank you."
    Bev smiled gently. "I'm sorry you had to learn about your father's engagement the way you did. Rafe was very insistent on keeping the full truth from you until…" She let the words slide away into nothingness.
    "Until he was ready to close his trap?" Margaret nodded as she sipped her coffee. "That's Rafe, all right. Sneaky." She reached for a slice of melon.
    Bev let out a small sigh. "He cares very deeply about you, Margaret. I hadn't fully realized just how much until you left him last year."
    "I would like to clear up a major misconception around here, Bev. I didn't leave Rafe. He told me to get out of his life."
    "And you went."
    "Yes."
    Bev slowly shook her head. "I won't deny that at the time I thought it was for the best."
    "I can imagine your feelings on the matter. I know exactly how you felt about me as a wife for your son." Margaret smiled to cancel any bitterness that might have tinged the words. "If it makes you feel any better, I've come to agree with you."
    Bev's eyes widened with sudden shock. "What are you saying?"
    "That you were right when you told me I would make a lousy wife for Rafe."
    "I only said that because I was afraid you would try to change him—make him into something he was not. Margaret, please believe me when I tell you that I never had anything at all against you personally. The truth is, I like you very much. I admire you." Bev smiled. "I've even started reading your books. I'm enjoying
Ruthless
enormously."
    Margaret grinned. "As any author will tell you, flattery will get you anywhere. We're suckers for people who say they like our books."
    "Good. Then perhaps you'll forgive me for some of the things I said to you last year?"
    "We both know they were true, Bev. I