The Pirate & The Adventurer & The Cowboy

always a bad career move for a woman to sleep with her boss. Sooner or later, she finds herself looking for another job."

    "And second?"

    "Let's just say you're not exactly the man of my dreams," she said dryly.

    R afe was waiting at the airport gate. Margaret didn't see him at first. She was struggling with her carry-on luggage and scanning the crowd for her father. She was annoyed when she couldn't spot him. The least Connor Lark could do after causing all this commotion in her life was meet her at the airport, she told herself. When someone moved up behind her and took the travel bag from her arm, she spun around in shock.

    "I'll take that for you, Maggie, love. Car's out front."

    She glared up at Rafe, who was smiling down at her, a look of pure satisfaction in his gaze. He was dressed in jeans and boots and a white shirt that had the sleeves rolled up on his forearms. His hat was pulled down low over his eyes. The boots were truly spectacular—maroon leather with a beautiful turquoise and black design worked into them.

    "I thought my father would have had the courtesy to meet me," she muttered.

    "Don't blame Connor. I told him I'd take care of it." Rafe wrapped his hand around the nape of her neck, bent his head briefly and kissed her soundly. He did it hard and fast and allowed her no time in which to resist.

    Margaret had barely registered his intentions before the whole thing was over. Scowling more furiously than ever, she stepped back quickly. She longed to slap the expression of triumph off his hard face. But at the last instant she reminded herself it would be dangerous to show any sign of a loss of self-control.

    "I would appreciate it if you would not do that again," she bit out in a tight voice.

    "Have a good flight?" Rafe smiled his thin, faint smile as he started down the corridor.

    Margaret recalled belatedly that Rafe was very good at ignoring things he didn't care to deal with at the moment. He was already several feet away, moving in a long, rangy, ground-eating stride. She swore silently as she hurried to catch up with him. Following him was not an easy task dressed as she was in high heels and a turquoise silk suit that had an extremely narrow skirt.

    "Good Lord, it's like an oven out here." Margaret gasped as she stepped through the doors of the Tucson airport terminal and into the full, humid warmth of a July day. She pulled a pair of sunglasses from her purse and glanced around at her surroundings.

    The unrelenting blue of a vast desert sky arched overhead. There wasn't a cloud in sight to offer any relief from the blazing sun. Heat welled up off the pavement and poured down from above. Around her 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,