a bad thing. Molly’s dark hair that reminded him of soot, was short and stylish, a perfect backdrop for those smoky colored eyes. And that sultry voice—God, it had always been a turn-on and still was.
Even though he knew she was twenty-seven, seven years younger than he, she didn’t look it. With her unmarked skin that reminded him of porcelain at its finest, she could pass for less than twenty.
However, if one were to look closer, her figure bore testimony to her actual age. While remaining thin, with a to-die-for body, he noticed that it was more rounded, even slightly voluptuous in certain places, particularly her breasts and stomach.
Having borne a child was responsible for those added factors. Instead of detracting from her beauty, they merely enhanced it, making her body sexier than ever. Though he was loathe to admit it, he’d have to be dead not to notice. He might be many things, but dead wasn’t one of them.
There had been times, however, when he’d wished he were dead. All because of her.
After Molly had run off, leaving him high and dry, she’d killed something vital inside him, which had never been revived. Part of his heart and soul were dead and Molly was to blame.
He despised her for that.
At least that was what he’d always told himself. But seeing her for that few minutes had turned his perfect world upside down—socked him in the gut, actually. Only not for long, he vowed. Already he was remembering her for the liar she really was.
And with that recall, his confidence rebounded. Even though she was staying in a small suite not far from his didn’t mean one damn thing, although at first he’d questioned his placement of her and Trent.
Then he’d told himself, what the hell. Where she stayed didn’t mean a thing to him. Hence, he’d had Maxine’s part-time helper, Kathy, show them to that particular suite, mainly because it was close to Molly’s mother.
In addition, he’d reminded himself, she wouldn’t be at the ranch long enough to matter where she slept. He knew she was a nurse with some large doctors’ group in Houston. Hell, he’d heard Maxine brag about that until she’d finally gotten the message that he wasn’t interested in hearing about her daughter.
He often wondered what Molly had told her mother about their past relationship. He suspected it had been nowhere near the truth, which reinforced his anger. A good thing, he told himself. As long as he held onto that anger and hatred, he’d come out the winner.
And to hell with her.
Suddenly Worth heard a phone ring. It was only after the third ring he realized it was his cell. Without checking who was calling, he barked, “Cavanaugh.”
“My, you sound like you’re in a sour mood.”
“Hello, Olivia.”
He didn’t miss the aggravated sigh that filtered through the line. “Is that all you have to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Hello, sweetheart, would do for starters.”
He didn’t answer. First, he’d never called her sweetheart and didn’t intend to start now. Second, but most important, she’d hit the nail on the head. He was in a sour mood, but now was not the time to tell her why. He simply wasn’t up to fighting the war that would occur if he told her Molly was back in town, staying at the ranch.
More to the point, it wasn’t any of Olivia’s business.
“Okay, you win,” Olivia replied in an offhanded manner. “I’ll let you pout, or whatever the hell you’re doing.”
“Did you want anything in particular?” Worth asked in a cold tone, knowing he was being a first-class jerk. Yet he felt no need to apologize.
“What time are you picking me up?”
Worth’s mind went blank. “Picking you up?”
“Yes,” she said, not bothering to hide her growing irritation. “Remember you promised to take me to dinner tonight.”
“Oh, right.”
“You’d forgotten all about that, hadn’t you?”
He had, but again he wasn’t going to admit it. “I’ll be there around sevenish.”
Another sigh. “You know, Worth, I think you take great pride in being an ass.”
Silence.
“And while we’re on the subject of dinner,” Olivia added, “don’t forget about the party at my house tomorrow night concerning your political future.”
“I haven’t, Olivia.” His tone was weary. “I know my parents are invited along with a possible potential backer.”
“At least you remembered something.”
With that, she hung up.
That was two women he’d ruffled today. He wondered if his mother was next in line. Probably so, he told himself. On a normal day, he and Eva Cavanaugh didn’t see eye-to-eye on much of anything. If she’d stop trying to micromanage his life, that might change. His father, however, was a different matter. They got along fine, at least on the surface, though he felt he had never known what made Ted Cavanaugh tick.
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
