At The Texan's Pleasure. Mary Lynn BaxterЧитать онлайн книгу.
over.
Three
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.
Heat pooled between her thighs as their eyes remained locked.
She saw him swallow with effort, causing his Adam’s apple to bob up and down as he slowly, but surely pushed away from the post and made his way toward her, his fingers busily unzipping his jeans.
All of that seemed to take place in slow motion as she lay unmoving, her heart pumping so loudly she could hear it in her ears. By the time he reached her, Molly’s eyes were no longer on his face but rather on the juncture at his thighs where his erection was thick and hard.
She couldn’t speak; her mouth was too dry. She could only watch him lift his arms and pull off his T-shirt, then toss it aside. A gasp slipped past her lips as her eyes covered every inch of his big, beautiful body, settling on his erection that seemed to be increasing by the moment.
Blood pounded from her heart into her head at such a rapid rate that it made her dizzy. Yet she couldn’t have removed her eyes from him if someone had threatened her life with a gun. It wasn’t as if that had been the first time she’d seen him in the buff, either.
It hadn’t. Far from it, actually.
Since her arrival that summer at his ranch, she and Worth had become an instant item. It had been lust at first sight.
When that lust had turned to love, Molly couldn’t say. Maybe it had been after he’d taken her that first time. From then on, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her and vice versa. With summer coming to an end, nothing had changed. Every time Worth looked at her, or came near her, her bones melted.
That day was no