The Pirate & The Adventurer & The Cowboy

stared for a long while at the far wall before he yanked open the bottom desk drawer and pulled out a glass and a bottle of Scotch.

    Very carefully he poured the liquor into the glass and then he propped his feet on the desktop and leaned back in the chair. He took a long swallow of the potent Scotch and forced his mind to go blank for a full minute.

    When he felt the icy calm close in on him he knew he had himself back under control.

    "Rafe?"

    He didn't turn his head. "Come in, Maggie."

    "I heard Doug leave." She walked into the room and sat down on the other side of the desk. Her beautiful, clear eyes met his. "I want to have that discussion now, Rafe. I want to know what's going on and what you're planning to do to Moorcroft. Because if you're bent on getting vengeance on him for what happened last year—"

    "Maggie."

    Her brows drew together sharply as he interrupted her. "What?"

    "Maggie, I have a couple of simple questions to ask you and I don't want any long, involved lectures or explanations. Just a simple yes or no."

    "Rafe, are you all right? Is something wrong?"

    "Something is wrong, but we'll get to that later. Just answer the questions."

    "Very well, what are the questions?"

    "Did you have a meeting with Jack Moorcroft in Seattle before you caught the plane to Tucson? Did he ask you to spy on me?"

    The shock in her lovely eyes was all the answer he needed. Rafe swore softly and took another long pull on the Scotch.

    "How did you know about that?" Margaret whispered in disbelief.

    "Does it matter?"

    "Yes, it bloody well matters," she shouted, slamming her fist on the desk. "I'd like to know what's going on around here and who's spying on me. I'd also like to know exactly what I stand accused of."

    "Someone's been leaking information on the Ellington deal to Moorcroft. You, me and Doug Hatcher are the only ones who've had access to the file in the past few days. Just how badly did you hate my guts after what happened last year, Maggie, love? Bad enough to come back so that you could get a little revenge?"

    "How dare you?" Margaret was on her feet. "
How dare you
?"

    "Sit down, Maggie."

    "I will not sit down, you deceitful, distrusting, son of a…" She gulped air. "I will not go through this a second time. Do you hear me? I won't let you tear me apart into little pieces again the way you did last time. You don't have to throw me out, Rafe. Not this time. I'm already gone."

    She whirled and ran from the room.

    Rafe finished the last swallow of Scotch and threw the glass against the wall. It shattered into a hundred glittering pieces and cascaded to the floor.

10

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    R age, a fierce, burning rage that was an agony to endure drove Margaret from the study. Behind her she thought she heard the crash of breaking glass but she paid no attention. She fled down the hall to her bedroom, dashed inside and slammed the door.

    She was gasping for breath, the hot tears burning behind her eyes as she sank down onto the bed. An instant later she leaped up again, hugging herself in despair as she paced the room.

    How could he do this to her a second time? she asked herself wildly. How could he doubt her now?

    She had to get out of here. She could not bear to stay here under Rafe's roof another minute. Margaret ran to the mirrored chest and threw open the doors. She found her suitcase, dragged it out and tossed it onto the bed. Spinning around, she grabbed her clothes and began throwing them into the open suitcase.

    He didn't trust her. That was what it came down to. After all they'd each been through separated this past year and after finally rediscovering their love for each other, Rafe still didn't trust her. He was prepared to believe she'd come here as a spy.

    Damn Moorcroft, anyway. If only he hadn't looked her up that day in Seattle. If only she hadn't agreed to have coffee with him.

    But if it hadn't been that unfortunate incident, it probably would have been something else sooner or later. Rafe was obviously ready to believe the worst.

    And apparently he had a reason to worry about a Moorcroft spy, Margaret thought vengefully. He was plotting some form of revenge against his old rival. She just knew it. She was caught in the middle again between the two men and she was furious. They had no right to do this to her.

    She would take the Mercedes, Margaret told herself. The keys were on the hall table. Rafe could damn well make arrangements to get his car out of the airport