Mary Baxter - At The Texan's Pleasure

In all fairness, his parents probably didn’t know what made him tick, either. One thing he did know was they wanted him to marry Olivia Blackburn. No. They expected him to marry her, which was the same as waving a red flag in front of a bull. He didn’t live by, or under, others’ expectations. Besides, he didn’t love Olivia. He’d made the mistake of falling in love once, and he’d never repeat it. Never.

Only problem was, he needed what Olivia could give him and that land she stood to inherit. His parents had deeded him the three hundred acres that adjoined their property, which he’d hoped would be enough to do most anything he chose in the way of ranching. But with his cattle business thriving, he needed more land.

That was where Olivia fit into his life so well. The acreage she’d inherit from her father would give him the room to expand his horse breeding business, a dream that hadn’t yet come to fruition.

Ah, to hell with women and the garbage they dished out, his thoughts targeting Molly. What he needed was a drink, he told himself savagely. Something large and strong that would cut through the constriction in his throat that had a strangle-hold on him.

He was just about to accommodate himself when his phone rang again. This time he did look at caller ID and saw that it was his mother. He was tempted not to answer it, but he did. Maybe she was canceling the dinner. A smirk crossed his lips. Not a chance that would happen.

“Yo, Mother.”

“Is that any way for a politician to answer the phone?”

“I’m not a politician. Yet.” He was irritated and it showed.

“You will be,” she said in her lofty tone. “Just as soon as you throw your hat into the ring.”

“I haven’t decided to do that, either.”

“I don’t know why you take delight in being difficult.”

“Mother, if you’re going to get on your soapbox about politics, then this conversation is over.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me.”

Not only could he hear the chagrin in his mother’s voice, but he could picture it in her face, as well. Although tall and rawboned like himself, she was nonetheless a very striking woman, with blond hair and black eyes, who commanded attention with her height and flare for fashion. But when she was out of sorts, which she was now, her usually pleasant features turned hard and unpleasant.

“I’ll see you and Dad tomorrow night at Liv’s around eight. We can talk about politics then, okay?”

“That’s not what I’m calling about.”

Something in her voice alerted him to be on guard, that the rest of the conversation would not be to his liking. Her next words confirmed that.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Worth’s tone was as innocent as hers was accusing.

“That Molly Bailey, or whatever her name is now, is at your ranch.”

God, it didn’t take long for news to travel, but then in a small town like Sky, Texas gossip was the most popular game in town.

“Because it’s no big deal.”

“No big deal.” Eva’s voice rose. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. She came to see about her mother.”

“I understand that.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The fact that she’s staying at your place is the problem.”

“Mother, I don’t want to discuss this.”

Eva went on as though he hadn’t said a word. “A motel would’ve been just fine for the likes of her.”

Although he had no intention of defending Molly—not for one second—his mother’s words set him off like a rocket. It was all he could do to keep his cool long enough to get off the phone before he said something he’d be sorry for.

“Goodbye, Mother. I’ll see you tomorrow tonight.”

“Worth Cavanaugh, you can’t hang—”

“Yes, I can. I’ve got to go now.” Without further ado, Worth punched the red button on the phone and Eva’s hostile voice was no longer assaulting his ear.

Women!

He’d had enough of them for one day. That stiff drink was looking more enticing by the second. He was about to walk back inside when he saw her strolling across the lawn. Alone.

Worth stopped in his tracks and watched. Molly was still dressed in the same jeans she’d had on earlier, jeans that fit her rear to perfection. Right now, it was her backside that held him captive—the sway of those perfect hips. Then she turned slightly, giving him privy to the way her full breasts jutted against the soft forest-green sweater.

For what seemed an eternity, his eyes consumed her. Then muttering a harsh obscenity, he felt his manhood rise to the occasion. Even though he dragged his gaze away from the provocative thrust of those breasts and back to her face, that action did nothing to release the pressure behind his zipper.

She was such an awesome picture of beauty against the gold and orange leaves falling from the trees that his breath caught in his throat.

It was in that moment she looked up and saw him. For the second time in a day, their eyes met and held.

He stared at her, breathing hard. Then cursing again for the fool that he was, Worth pivoted on a booted heel and strode back inside, only to realize that he was shaking all over.

Lucky for her it was Worth who looked away first. For some crazy reason, Molly couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him, although he was several yards from her. Yet his tall figure appeared clear to her.

And threatening.

Even so, she had been held spellbound by his presence, though she knew that if she were close enough to read those black eyes, they would be filled with animosity.

Thank heaven the moment had passed and he was gone. However, she didn’t move. Her body felt disassembled, perhaps like one of the many leaves that were falling from the trees, never to be attached again.

What an insane thought, Molly told herself brutally, storming back into her room. Besides, it was getting downright chilly despite the fact the sun was still hanging on. Once it disappeared, the temperature had a tendency to drop quickly.

By the time she closed the French doors, she was shivering all over. Not from the chill, she knew, but from her second encounter with Worth. She eased onto the chaise longue, the closest seat, and took several deep breaths to calm her racing heart, feeling lucky to be alone. Trent was with his grandmother who was happy as a lark reading to him. He had crawled into the bed with Maxine and was hanging onto every word she read out of the book.

Before she had ventured outdoors, Molly had stood in her mother’s door and watched them, feeling a peace descend over her. Coming here, despite the obstacles, had been the right thing to do. Not only did her ailing mother need her daughter, she needed to get to really know her grandson. To date, Trent and Maxine hadn’t had the opportunity to bond, to develop a close relationship that was so unique to grandparents and grandchildren.

Now, however, the doubts were once again creeping back into her mind, following that long distance encounter with Worth. Molly bit down on her lower lip to stop it from trembling while her eyes perused the room where she tried hard to concentrate on the rustic good taste that surrounded her.

She forced herself to take in, and appreciate, the cobalt blue walls and the big four-poster bed that was angled in one corner. The one thing that held her attention was the handmade quilt that adorned the bed. The coverlet picked up the blue in the wall, as well as other vivid colors, resulting in a stunning piece of art.

An armoire occupied the other side of the bedroom. The sitting area where the chaise resided held a desk and chair. No doubt, it was a place where she could be comfortable for a long period of time. But even if her job allowed that luxury, it wouldn’t work.

Because of Worth.

Suddenly Molly felt tears fill her eyes, and that made her mad. Lunging off the chaise, she curled her fists into her palms and strengthened her resolve. She wouldn’t let her emotions get the best of her again. She had indulged herself before she’d arrived, and that had to be her swan song. Otherwise, she wouldn’t get through the quagmire that was already threatening to suck her under.

Yet seeing Worth again so soon after her arrival seemed to have imprinted him on her brain, and she couldn’t let go of that image. What an image it was, too. She had never thought of him as handsome, only sexy.

Now he seemed both. He was tall and leathery thin, but not too thin, having toned his muscles to perfection riding horses and branding cattle—the two loves of his life. His short brown hair still had streaks of blond, but she could almost swear that some gray had been added to the mix. His face, with its chiseled features, was definitely more lined.

Neither change, however, was a detraction because of those incredible black eyes, surrounded by equally incredible thick lashes. They were by far the focal point of his face and his best asset.

And he knew how to use them. He had a way of looking at her like she was the only one in existence. And that was a real turn-on, or at least it always had been for her.

Until today.

When she had practically run into him upon her arrival, she’d seen none of that sexual charisma reflected in his eyes. Instead, she’d seen pure hostility and anger that bordered on hatred. Another shiver darted through Molly, and she crossed her arms over her chest as if to protect herself.

From Worth?

Possibly, because he was someone she no longer knew. More noticeable than the physical changes in him, were the changes in attitude. From the first moment she’d met him that fateful summer, she remembered him as having been rather cocky and self-assured for someone who was just twenty-nine years old. But she’d taken no offense at that attitude; actually that was one of the reasons she’d been attracted to him.

While both cocky and self-assured still applied, other adjectives now fit his personality. He appeared bitter, cynical and completely unbending. Though she didn’t know the reason for such a radical change, she didn’t like it, especially since it was directed at her.

After all, he’d been the one who had betrayed her. If anyone had an ax to grind, it was she. Admittedly she did, but she wasn’t about to show her bitterness to the entire world.

Maybe she was just the one who continually brought out the worst in him. Around others maybe he was a kinder and gentler soul. That thought almost brought a smile to Molly’s face. Worth Cavanaugh was a man unto himself, having carved an empire for himself in his early thirties. Kinder and gentler didn’t make that happen. Hard and tough-skinned did.

Suddenly a sliver of panic ran down Molly’s spine. What was she doing here? It wasn’t going to work. She hadn’t even been here one whole day, and thoughts of Worth had her by the jugular and wouldn’t let go.

Molly swallowed convulsively as she eased back onto the chaise, vivid memories of the last time they were together rising to haunt her. If her recall served her correctly, she’d been in the barn that day, looking for Worth most likely.

The why actually hadn’t been important. Once there, she’d climbed into the loft and plopped down in the middle of the hay. She remembered closing her eyes, taking a catnap during which she dreamed about Worth. When she finally opened her eyes, she was taken aback to find him leaning against a post, watching her with unsuppressed desire further darkening his eyes.

Since it had been summer and the temperature sizzling, she’d had on only the barest of clothing—a pair of blue jean shorts, a tank top without a bra and flip-flops. The way he’d stared at her, she might as well have been naked.