Dances Under the Harvest Moon (Heartache, TN 3)

by Joanne Rock

  And still? He’d have to pray for restraint.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “THANKS FOR THE RIDE, Zach,” Heather said, unlocking the front door to her house. Her home was an old potting shed that her father had expanded into an office, complete with plumbing, a loft and a front porch. Later, Heather had reworked it into a tiny home so she could stick close to her mom while giving them both some privacy. The bungalow was hidden from view of the main house—no doubt why her father had chosen it for his work space—and the “driveway” was scarcely more than a car’s length, and yet Zach had walked her to the door.

  A gentleman.

  Albeit one who’d cooled off toward her sometime this afternoon. She should be glad he’d reined in the flirting and the touches since she’d be leaving town soon. Besides, she was pretty sure Zach wasn’t being completely forthright with her about his reason for spending time with her. But honestly, the man had lit her up inside hotter than some former boyfriends had managed to do with a full range of physical intimacy. To have him withdraw that electric spark now, before they’d even kissed, left her feeling a bit hollow. And more than a little confused.

  “I should be thanking you.” His amber eyes were serious, the teasing light muted. “Being with you made a ribbon-cutting event fun. Something I would have once said was impossible.”

  “Glad I could help.” She slid the key to her house back in her purse, the front door open, but she didn’t move to enter. “And if you want, I can take the fish off your hands and sort out dinner. I didn’t really mean to suggest you should cook, when you must be exhausted from not sleeping last night.”

  She was curious about the work that had kept him awake. He’d been cagey on that point.

  He shook his head, sunlight picking up blond strands among the brown. “I’m looking forward to cooking for you.”

  That intense gaze of his made her feel as if he’d just said something a whole lot more intimate.

  I’m looking forward to kissing you, is what her ears heard.

  No need to be ridiculous. But her cheeks warmed.

  “I might need a ride.” The words caught in her dry throat.

  “Can I pick you up at seven?”

  “Sure.” She was ten kinds of idiot to feel as breathless as a teenager on her first date.

  Move away from this secretive, handsome man. But did her feet listen? No. She gazed at him and thought about how she never took chances. About how she’d promised herself she would start living in the moment.

  Stop being so damn practical.

  “Heather.” If he meant to warn her away, the deep timbre of his voice didn’t exactly get the message across.

  If anything, she drew closer. Zach didn’t step back. Her heart pounded so hard it made her light-headed. She had zero experience making moves on a man. But Zach had touched her. Flirted with her. Insinuated he wanted more from her...

  Her lips parted, her eyes never leaving his. She knew the exact moment he got on board with the plan. Something shifted in his expression, a subtle softening that served as her only warning before his hands slid around her shoulders and his mouth met hers.

  His kiss was warm and soft, the gentleness at odds with all that hard male strength banded around her where he held her against him. She closed her eyes and fell into the sensations, letting the whisper-brush of his lips tantalize her as she melted into his chest.

  No thinking. Only feeling. Surely she deserved that after the hellish few weeks she’d had. She could afford to savor the sweep of Zach’s tongue along her lower lip, the increasing pressure of the kiss ramping up and reminding her she was a woman and not just a frustrated daughter, wannabe singer and victim of an exhausting disease. Right now, with Zach’s hands skimming down her shoulders to land inches above her hips, she was hot. Wild.

  Desired.

  “Come inside,” she whispered against his lips, tugging him forward.

  He stopped. Stared down at her, his breathing hard and uneven.

  Which mirrored how she felt, too. Until she realized what she’d just said.

  “I mean.” Her temperature climbed a few more degrees. She bit her lip. “Er. The house. I meant, come inside the house.”

  She nodded at the open door and Zach followed the motion. Then smiled for the first time since they’d left the riverside.

  “Yeah. I knew what you meant.” His smile broadened. “And that’s tempting on every level.” He eased his hands from her waist to trail up her arms. To rest on her shoulders underneath the blanket of her hair. “You don’t know how much.”

  Yes, well. That was the point. She wanted to see for herself how tempted he might be once she got him behind a closed door. Her skin felt too tight, as if she just might crawl out of it. Her breasts ached for his touch after only a few moments being pressed up against him. She’d forgotten how needy sexual hunger could make her feel.

  Oh, wait. She’d never experienced this sensation before. No wonder she practically hyperventilated all over the man.

  “That doesn’t sound like a yes to me.” She forced herself to step back, away from the temptation of his hands. His lips.

  “We’ll talk over dinner.” He stroked a thumb down her cheek. “If you still feel the same way then you’ll hear the yes loud and clear.”

  Her cheek tingled from his scant caress, but she couldn’t deny it. She’d been rejected. She backed up another step, out of his reach, so that she stood on the threshold of the open doorway.

  “See you then.” She didn’t wait for his goodbye.

  Clutching her pride tight, she forced a smile and closed the door.

  When she heard a soft rap a few minutes later, she wondered if Zach had changed his mind. She cursed herself for how fast that thought made her hormones cook all over again. Hoping to get control over herself, she took her time opening the door. She breathed deeply.

  Only to find Megan on her front porch.

  “Hi!” She checked her watch as she opened the door wider. “Come on in. I wasn’t expecting you until after school.”

  “I didn’t go today.” Dressed in dark sweats and a pink sweatshirt, she had the hoodie pulled up over her head. “I got behind on some schoolwork so I faked a cough, but I’m not sick. I promise. Or I wouldn’t have come over.”

  Megan set her guitar case on the floor by an antique umbrella stand.

  Heather noted the girl’s puffy eyes. “Everyone needs an occasional personal day,” she said carefully.

  Shuffling aside her own frustrated feelings, Heather pulled herself together and morphed into professional mode.

  Something must be wrong in Megan’s life. Heather would bet her savings on it. But drawing out a troubled teen was a task rife with potential land mines. She remembered all too well how she’d tried to talk to her sister Amy before she’d left Heartache for good. All she’d done was push her further away.

  “Exactly.” Megan looked around Heather’s house. “You’re all packed up for your trip?”

  “Pretty much.” She’d forgotten that the place would have looked different since the last time her student had visited. “I used the trip as an excuse to clean out old things I didn’t need and get organized.”

  “You must be so excited to get out of this town.” Megan ran a finger along the edge of a postcard on Heather’s bulletin board. It was from Sylvia, and one of the few homey details remaining on the walls.

  “It will be fun to test my skills against other performers.” She watched as Megan moved her attention from the Nashville postcard to one from Memphis. Graceland.

  Megan nodded. “Plus, you get to be anonymous in a big city. No one knows you. No one tracks your every move.” She spun around to face her. “I mean, it can get sort of claustrophobic in a small town.”

  “Definitely.” Heather frowned. W
as Megan’s overprotective father riding her too hard about grades or college plans? Who else would track her every move? “But I don’t mind Heartache most days. My younger sister hated it. She hasn’t been back since she quit high school.”

  “She quit school?” Megan’s eyes widened.

  Crap. Was that the wrong direction to take this conversation? She wondered what mild-mannered Professor Bryer’s reaction would be if he found out Megan’s music teacher was filling her head with stories about discontented teenagers who emancipated themselves at seventeen and never looked back.

  “There were a lot of factors at work there, but yes. She never liked it here.” Heather had been thinking about Amy a lot recently. During the past two years, her sister’s absence had felt like more than simply a chance to find herself.

  Lately, it had seemed more permanent. As if Amy had no love for any of her family. And that hurt. Worse, it made Heather realize how deeply they’d hurt her, and that stung a whole lot more.

  “I passed the mayor’s car on my way here,” Megan announced as she flicked open the latches on her guitar case.

  Heather blinked, surprised at the conversational turn, though she was glad to move away from the topic of her younger sister.

  “He dropped me off after the fishing tournament, since my car is in the shop.” Heather picked up her own guitar, a Taylor Dreadnought with a gorgeous rosewood body. Her father had bought it for her twenty-first birthday. Until that gift, her parents hadn’t done much to encourage her passion for music. It had moved Heather that her father had not only noticed and understood how much her playing and singing meant to her, but that he’d gone to the trouble to hunt down a truly special six-string for her.

  Making herself comfortable on the couch, she sat across from Megan, who’d pulled up a hard-backed dining room chair, which she preferred for playing. Heather’s fingers ran over the chords, and they felt much better than they had that morning. She knew that with RA, she could experience morning stiffness that would ease as the day wore on, but the pain she’d had earlier had been much worse than the phrase morning stiffness suggested. Was that really what she had to look forward to every day?

  “I wondered about trying to interview him for a school project.” Megan picked along the strings faster than normal, tightening and tuning while Heather warmed up.

  “The mayor?” she clarified. She knew she was distracted—because of the kiss with Zach and because of her hands—but today’s conversation with Megan tread strange water. Normally, they discussed tremolos and legatos, grace notes and slides.

  Something was definitely off today with her student.

  “Yeah.” The girl huffed a breath sideways to blow a strand of blond hair from her cheek while she twisted a tuning post hard. “I’m doing a paper on internet safety for teens, and I saw online that he manages a website that will help with that.”

  “Really?” How little she knew about Zach, yet she’d been quick to kiss him senseless.

  Although, if her goal was truly to be less practical, she must be knocking it out of the ballpark.

  “You didn’t know, either?” Megan stopped messing with her strings and met Heather’s gaze.

  “No. I do know that he owns a digital-security company and works on special digital forensics cases as a consultant. But I’ve never heard him talk about the website. How does it work?”

  Megan’s eyes darted away. “Oh, I don’t really know much about it. Just that it’s supposed to help people collect data or something if someone is bugging them online.” She focused on the tuning post again, twisting hard and fast on the string she’d already tightened. “The beta version is supposed to launch soon.”

  The string broke at first strum, the discordant note overly loud.

  “Megan?” Heather quit strumming while the girl stared at her broken string. “Is everything okay?”

  Megan dragged her guitar case closer, clunking and thunking as she dug around the accessories box. She didn’t meet Heather’s eyes.

  “Totally fine. Sorry, I’m just a little late on that research project. I guess I didn’t realize I was stressing about it.”

  “I’m sure it’s not easy juggling a job and school.” She wondered how much to say. How much to press. “Is there anything I can do to help? I will see Zach later today for a...meeting. Would you like me to ask him about the interview?”

  “You’d do that?” Megan straightened, the guitar string forgotten, her eyes bright with emotion that seemed more intense than gratitude.

  “Of course. I don’t know what his schedule is like, but I can certainly encourage him to get in touch with you as soon as possible. When is your project due?”

  Megan shook her head. “Don’t worry about that. It’s my fault I’m late. As long as it’s good when I turn it in, I’ll get some credit for it.”

  Yet another red flag on a day full of them—why did Megan, who’d always been an A student, seem content with a poor grade?

  Heather wanted to offer more help than putting her in touch with Zach, but she didn’t want to add to Megan’s stress. Besides, one of the benefits of music was that it could take a person away from everything else.

  Maybe for today that escape would be the best thing she could offer.

  “Good. Then let’s get you restrung so we can start practicing. I have some pointers for you on getting creative with solos and developing personal style.” Megan was a good player. She could handle this level of play. She’d gone beyond intermediate to advanced over the summer. “I know it helps me as I’m writing to play around with chords and motifs to get some new sounds.”

  While Megan restrung her instrument, Heather talked through the day’s lesson, hoping to find creative inspiration for herself, even as she showed Megan ways to tighten her focus on their craft. Soon, they were busy playing with slides and slurring notes, racing each other through progressions and seeing who could play one slowest for the longest sustains. Heather had fun, and she was pretty sure that Megan—for at least a little while—had forgotten what was bothering her.

  Maybe that wasn’t a good approach to problems. Heather had tried the “bury her head in the sand” method for years, and that hadn’t helped her move forward. But for one day? It sure worked like a charm.

  She hoped Zach would help Megan with her research. Heather was thankful to have another topic of conversation over dinner to divert them from discussing their kiss. Because no matter how much music she played this afternoon, she couldn’t forget the way Zach’s kiss had made her feel. Heady. Sexy. Out of control.

  And she’d be lying through her teeth to say she didn’t want to experience that again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ZACH KNEW THE sooner he dealt with the rumors brewing on the town council, the better. That’s why, as he drove through the small Heartache downtown to Heather’s place, he talked through the approach in his head ten different ways.

  It’s probably just gossip, but I need to look into some missing money during your father’s term as mayor.

  He winced. Sounded accusatory.

  Funds from Harvest Fest disappeared two years in a row, and council members are concerned your father was involved.

  He snorted in disgust. Sounded as if he sucked at his job for not looking into the matter when he first took office.

  Your dad may have stolen money from the town coffers, but don’t worry, it’s only a small fraction of how much my dad stole from stock investors.

  He pounded a fist against the steering wheel. He knew damn well there was no gentle way to absorb the news your father might be a crook. Truth be told, he was having a tough time contending with the whole idea of Ted Finley as a thief. Zach had always looked up to the guy—the whole family, really. He’d seen the Finleys as having the kind of home he wanted. The type of bonds his family lacked. The kids st
uck up for each other and the parents were civic-minded members of the community who ran a thriving business that helped keep the town strong—first Finley Building Supply and later, the construction company.

  He was having a hard time wrapping his head around a new view of Mayor Finley.

  When he pulled into Heather’s driveway, he hadn’t found a good way to break the news. She sat on the porch swing, her silhouette made visible by the glow of light emanating through the bungalow’s front window. She didn’t move as he shut off the SUV, her attention focused on whatever she held in her hand. Her phone, he realized, noting the pale white light shining on her face from the device.

  He took a moment to stare. She attracted him in a way no one else had, her sense of honor and loyalty to her family strong even though her own dreams pulled her in other directions. She’d sacrificed her own wants to help her mother, embodying all the things he’d admired in the close-knit families who made Heartache their home.

  Zach shook his head. He’d been spending too much time in his office basement if he hadn’t tried getting to know her better before now. What the hell was the matter with him? Why had he waited until he knew she was leaving town?

  The kiss they’d shared had been in the back of his mind all day. Every minute they’d been apart.

  “Nice night for a swing,” he called as he opened the door of the SUV and stepped out.

  She looked up. She wore a pink denim jacket with a cream-colored silk scarf around her neck.

  “Sorry I didn’t see you. I got distracted.” She pointed to her phone. “I heard a rumor about you this afternoon, Mayor, and had to check it out for myself.”

  He knew which of his family skeletons were public knowledge and which ones were buried deep, so he didn’t worry. He stepped onto the cobblestone landscaping outside the front door. Pumpkins flanked the door, perched on hay bales. He could now see she wore a sundress under the pink denim, and a worn pair of brown leather cowboy boots, which she scuffled on the stones to stop the swing.