out for Stacey’s arm, trying to detain him.
But Stacey simply pulled free and left by the back door.
There was a long, pulsing silence, during which both Libby and Jess seemed to be frozen. He was the first to thaw.
“I know you were hurt, Libby,” he said. “Badly hurt. But that didn’t give you the right to do something like this to Cathy.”
It infuriated Libby that this man’s good opinion was so important to her, but it was, and there was no changing that. “Jess, I didn’t do anything to Cathy. Please listen to me.”
He folded his strong arms and rested against the door jamb with an ease that Libby knew was totally feigned. “I’m listening,” he said, and the words had a flippant note.
Libby ignored fresh anger. “I am not expecting Stacey’s baby, and this wasn’t a romantic tryst. I don’t even know why he came here. I was on the phone with Aaron and he—”
A muscle in Jess’s neck corded, relaxed again. “I hope you’re not going to tell me that your former husband made you pregnant, Libby. That seems unlikely.”
Frustration pounded in Libby’s temples and tightened the already constricted muscles in her throat. “I am not pregnant!” she choked out. “And if you are going to eavesdrop, Jess Barlowe, you could at least pay attention! Aaron wanted me to come back to New York and have his baby so that he would have an heir to present to his grandmother!”
“You didn’t agree to that?”
“Of course I didn’t agree! What kind of monster do you think I am?”
Jess shrugged with a nonchalance that was belied by the leaping green fire in his eyes. “I don’t know, princess, but rest assured— I intend to find out.”
“I have a better idea!” Libby flared. “Why don’t you just leave me the hell alone?”
“In theory that’s brilliant,” he fired back, “but there is one problem— I want you.”
Involuntarily Libby remembered the kisses and caresses exchanged by the pond the day before, relived them. Hot color poured into her face. “Am I supposed to be honored?”
“No,” Jess replied flatly, “you’re supposed to be kept so busy that you won’t have time to screw up Cathy’s life any more than you already have.”
If Libby could have moved, she would have rushed across that room and slapped Jess Barlowe senseless. Since she couldn’t get her muscles to respond to the orders of her mind, she was forced to watch in stricken silence as he gave her a smoldering assessment with his eyes, executed a half salute and left the house.
Chapter 4
When the telephone rang again, immediately after Jess’s exit from the kitchen, Libby was almost afraid to answer it. It would be like Aaron to persist, to use pressure to get what he wanted.
On the other hand, the call might be from someone else, and it could be important.
“Hello?” Libby dared, with resolve.
“Ms. Kincaid?” asked a cheerful feminine voice. “This is Marion Bradshaw, and I’m calling for Mrs. Barlowe. She’d like you to meet her at the main house if you can, and she says to dress for riding.”
Libby looked down at her jeans and boots and smiled. In one way, at least, she and Cathy were still on the same wavelength. “Please tell her that I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
There was a brief pause at the other end of the line, followed by, “Mrs. Barlowe wants me to ask if you have a car down there. If not, she’ll come and pick you up in a few minutes.”
Though there was no car at her disposal, Libby declined the offer. The walk to the main ranch house would give her a chance to think, to prepare herself to face her cousin again.
As Libby started out, striding along the winding tree-lined road, she ached to think that she and Cathy had come to this. Fresh anger at Stacey quickened her step.
For a moment she was mad at Cathy, too. How could she believe such a thing, after all they’d been through together? How?
Firmly Libby brought her ire under control. You don’t get mad at a handicapped person, she scolded herself.
The sun was already high and hot in the domelike sky, and Libby smiled. It was warm for spring, and wasn’t it nice to look up and see clouds and mountaintops instead of tall buildings and smog?
Finally the main house came into view. It was a rambling structure of red brick, and its many windows glistened in the bright sunshine. A porch with marble steps led up to the double doors, and one of them swung open even as Libby reached out to ring the bell.
Mrs. Bradshaw, the housekeeper, stepped out and enfolded Libby in a delighted hug. A slender middle-aged woman with soft brown hair, Marion Bradshaw was as much a part of the Circle Bar B as Senator Barlowe himself. “Welcome home,” she said warmly.
Libby smiled and returned the hug. “Thank you, Marion,” she replied. “Is Cathy ready to go riding?”
“She’s gone ahead to the stables—she’d like you to join her there.”
Libby turned to go back down the steps but was stopped by the housekeeper. “Libby?”
She faced Marion, again, feeling wary.
“I don’t believe it of you,” said Mrs. Bradshaw firmly.
Libby was embarrassed, but there was no point in trying to pretend that she didn’t get the woman’s meaning. Probably everyone on the ranch was speculating about her supposed involvement with Stacey Barlowe. “Thank you.”
“You stay right here on this ranch, Libby Kincaid,” Marion Bradshaw rushed on, her own face flushed now. “Don’t let Stacey or anybody else run you off.”
That morning’s unfortunate scene in Ken’s kitchen was an indication of how difficult it would be to take the housekeeper’s advice. Life on the Circle Bar B could become untenable if both Stacey and Jess didn’t back off.
“I’ll try,” she said softly before stepping down off the porch and making her way around the side of that imposing but gracious house.
Prudently, the stables had been built a good distance away. During the walk, Libby wondered if she shouldn’t leave the ranch after all. True, she needed to be there, but Jonathan’s death had taught her that sometimes a person had to put her own desires aside for the good of other people.
But would leaving help, in the final analysis? Suppose Stacey did follow her, as he’d threatened to do? What would that do to Cathy?
The stables, like the house, were constructed of red brick. As Libby approached them, she saw Cathy leading two horses out into the sun—a dancing palomino gelding and the considerably less prepossessing pinto mare that had always been Libby’s to ride.
Libby hesitated; it had been a long, long time since she’d ridden a
