Dancing in the Moonlight

by RaeAnne Thayne

  The thought that she and Jake might find themselves caught in the matchmaking crosshairs of two such formidable adversaries as their respective mothers was enough to strike cold fear in her heart.

  “I’m not sure Jake would agree that he needs a wife.”

  Her mother made a dismissive gesture, as if what Jake had to say on the subject was of little importance. “Men. They do not know what they want. Have you not learned that lesson? We have to show them what will be best for them.”

  She had to smile, amused despite her sudden foreboding. “Good luck with that, then, but I’m going up to bed.”

  She pulled the blanket away and she saw Viviana’s gaze sharpen on her empty pant leg. Concern flicked in her mother’s dark eyes, probably because she had rarely seen Maggie without the prosthesis.

  “Sleep here tonight, Lena. You don’t need to climb the stairs tonight if you are tired. I will bring you a nightgown and your own pillow.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied and pulled herself up from the couch onto the crutches. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  She moved to her mother and kissed her on the cheek, then headed for the personal Armageddon she faced every night.

  The next half hour was focused on the physical challenge of climbing the stairs, her nightly med regimen and preparing herself for bed, all on the despised crutches.

  At last she slid under the cool and welcoming lavender quilt in her bedroom, everything aching.

  Despite her physical exhaustion, sleep seemed far away as she lay in her narrow childhood bed gazing at the soft-pastel walls and listening to the rain outside the window.

  She couldn’t seem to force her mind away from Jake and the afternoon and evening in his company.

  How would she ever face him again? Bad enough she’d responded to his kiss again with an eagerness that mortified her. She then compounded the humiliation by blubbering all over him.

  And as if all that wasn’t enough, she’d fallen asleep on the man. Literally. She must have fallen asleep in his arms. She could remember him holding her during her storm of tears, and then everything seemed a vast blank until she woke and found her mother there.

  Well, it had taken the most embarrassing evening of her life, but maybe she’d finally accomplished her goal of keeping him away from her. She couldn’t imagine he would want anything more to do with her after tonight’s turbulent mood swings.

  What sane man would?

  She was relieved, she told herself. If he left on his own, she wouldn’t have to keep trying to bolster her sagging determination to push him away. Heaven knows, she certainly wasn’t succeeding very well in that department on her own. When she was with him, she couldn’t seem to remember all the reasons she should stay away.

  She had wanted him to kiss her again. She pressed a hand to her stomach, remembering the slow heat churning through her veins when he had looked at her out of those hot and hungry blue eyes. She had wanted his kiss, and as the kiss deepened, she had wanted far more.

  How could she be foolish enough to let herself crave the impossible?

  She reached for the bedside light again, then pulled the blankets away and tugged her nightgown up to her thighs. For a long moment she actually looked at her legs, something she tried to avoid as much as possible.

  Her aversion was ridiculous, she knew. She was a nurse practitioner and had served in hospitals in a war zone, for heaven’s sake. She had seen far worse than a stump of a limb that ended just below the knee. It was only skin and bone and nerve endings, not the essence of her entire psyche.

  So why did it feel like she was nothing more than this now?

  Intellectually, she knew losing part of her leg wasn’t really the end of the world.

  Just the end of the world as she knew it.

  She sighed, despising herself for the melodramatic thought. If she’d been her own patient, she would have told herself to grow up, to put on her big-girl panties and just deal with what had been handed her.

  She wanted to. At times she thought she did a pretty damn good job of coping.

  At others, like now, she couldn’t seem to move past this deep feeling of sorrow at what she had lost, at all the things she wouldn’t be able to do in the future—or at least the things she would no longer be able to do easily.

  As she looked at her stump, she tried to picture a man—okay, Jake—in a romantic situation, undressing her and encountering this lump of flesh instead of a whole, healthy woman. The idea was so painful she couldn’t even stand imagining it.

  She closed her eyes tightly. But while she could shut out the sight of her residual limb, she couldn’t block from her mind the image of his handsome features looking at her with disgust and revulsion.

  Perhaps she wasn’t being being fair to Jake. He had looked at her stump several times now and she had never witnessed the kind of reaction from him that she’d seen in her fiancé’s eyes.

  He wasn’t Clay. She had to remind herself of that. But Clay had supposedly loved her and still he couldn’t bear to look at her. Why should Jake respond any differently?

  She blew out a breath and drew the quilt back over her legs. Torturing herself like this was silly, anyway. She wouldn’t ever be in a situation where Jake Dalton would see her in a state of undress. After her hysterical behavior tonight, she was certain the man wouldn’t be at all eager to spend anymore time with a nutcase like her.

  Not that she wanted to jump into that kind of relationship with him. Did she?

  Enough doubt flickered through her to make her wonder. She wasn’t sure how it happened, but suddenly the idea of a relationship with him didn’t seem as completely irrational as it would have a week ago. Somehow her feelings for him were changing, helped along significantly by watching him with his patients that day.

  She stared out the window at the shifting patterns of moonlight through the rain.

  How could she actually be thinking of sex and Jake Dalton in the same moment? How could she even contemplate making love to the son of the man who had destroyed her father’s dreams and ultimately cost him his life?

  Somehow the old hatred seemed far away tonight as she thought of the heat of his kiss and his strong, tender arms around her while she wept.

  As she expected, she saw and heard nothing of Jake for several days. By the time Saturday rolled around, she convinced herself she’d been right, that he wanted nothing more to do with her after her irrational outburst.

  She was relieved, she told herself, though neither her body nor her subconscious were a hundred percent convinced. She had dreamed of him every night, more of those soft, erotic kisses, and had awakened trembling and achy.

  At least she wasn’t dreaming of explosions and screams and fear. She supposed she should be grateful to Jake for distracting her from her usual nightmares for a while.

  Not that she intended to track him down to thank him for it, even if she’d had the time.

  The Pine Gulch Founder’s Day celebration was just a few weeks ago, and Viviana, always heavily involved in community activities, was suddenly up to her ears planning the Cattlewoman’s Association hamburger fry.

  Every time Maggie walked into the kitchen, she would find her mother on the phone, and Viviana had been gone every evening on committee business.

  As a result Maggie had more than enough work to do on the ranch, though, to her dismay, Wade Dalton sent over a ranch hand from the Cold Creek to help with the spring planting. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t talk her mother out of accepting their help.

  Saturday morning found her loading alfalfa bales onto a pickup truck to take out to some of the cow-calf pairs in one of the far pastures. She was about halfway loaded and went inside the barn for another bale when she heard a vehicle pull up outside.

  “In here,” she called out, assuming it was Drifty Halloran, the Cold Creek cowboy. She hadn’t been expecting him today, as she knew they were branding over at the Cold Creek, but maybe Wade had been feeling magnanimous and s
ent him anyway.

  The barn was dim and dusty, and all she could make out at first was the hazy outline of someone standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the bright sunshine outside.

  Not Drifty.

  Jake.

  She recognized him after only a few seconds, and to her dismay, her heart gave a sharp little leap of joy.

  She hadn’t seen him since that night and she had missed him, she realized suddenly, but the embarrassment that followed doused her initial reaction.

  Heat soaked her cheeks, and she was grateful for the dim barn. She had a sudden vivid memory of bursting into tears, and for one panicked moment she wanted to dive behind the hay bales and hide until he left again.

  Too late. He’d seen her. He gave a heavy, frustrated sigh and stepped into the barn. “What are you doing, Maggie?”

  Stuffing her embarrassment back down inside her, she hefted the bale into her arms and headed out past him. “Embroidering pillows. What does it look like?”

  He followed her into the sunshine. “I thought I signed on to do the heavy lifting. I’d say this certainly qualifies. Why didn’t you wait for me to take care of this?”

  She didn’t answer as she lifted the bale onto the truck, but when she turned around to head back into the barn, he planted himself in front of her so she couldn’t move around him without looking foolish.

  “You didn’t think I was coming today, did you? It’s Saturday and we had a deal. A day for a day, remember? Did you think I was backing out?”

  She had hoped. She wasn’t ready to face him again; she wasn’t completely sure she ever would be.

  “It was a stupid deal and neither of us should be held to it. You don’t have to give up your Saturday, Jake. I’ve got things under control here.”

  She stepped around him and walked into the barn.

  Just as she expected, he followed her.

  Chapter Ten

  The woman was making him crazy.

  He wanted to shake her, to yell at her. To kiss her. He settled for yanking the alfalfa bale out of her arms. “I’m not going anywhere, Maggie, except out to the truck to load this.”

  She glared at him and reached for another one. With a sigh he took that bale from her with his other hand.

  “Hey! I was carrying that.”

  “You think I’m going to stand here and watch you torture yourself?”

  “So go home!” she snapped, reaching for another bale.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Now put that down, go take the weight of your leg and let me finish this.”

  She gave him one of the more colorful phrases she probably learned in the Army but he only grinned.

  “Nice try, Lieutenant. You can either put it down on your own and go wait for me in the truck or I’ll haul you in there and tie you to the steering wheel.”

  She lifted her chin, and he braced himself for the blast of her temper. Instead after a moment she gave him a look as cold as a dead snake, turned on her heel and walked stiffly outside.

  He followed with the alfalfa bales and watched her climb awkwardly into the cab. She didn’t look very happy about it, but she went, which was, he supposed, all he could ask.

  In only a few moments he stacked the truck bed as high as he could with hay bales, then joined her in the cab, wondering as he took off his leather gloves whether he might need them to defend himself from the jagged emotion he could feel rippling off her.

  Again he braced himself for anger, but she only gazed at him, an unreadable expression in those dark, lovely eyes.

  “I’m not a child, Jake,” she finally said, her voice low. “I’m a grown woman with a mind of my own. I’ve survived a war and having two of my closest friends blown to pieces beside me while I could do nothing to help them. I’ve seen horrible things. For that matter, I’ve done horrible things. I’m not fragile or weak or stupid and I’m not some infant who needs to be pampered and coddled.”

  He heard her words through a haze of great shame. She was exactly right—that’s how he had treated her, like a child who couldn’t be trusted to know her own limits. She deserved better.

  “I know everyone worries about me overdoing it,” she went on before he could respond. “And while I do appreciate that concern and know it’s well meant, I’m suffocating here. Staying busy—doing as much as I can for myself—is the only thing keeping me sane right now. It’s important to me. Even if it means a little pain in the short term, it’s far better than the alternative, drowning myself in self-pity like I did the other night. Can you understand that?”

  What had it cost her to say all this? She was not a woman who shared pieces of herself easily. She could have ranted and raved and put more of those barriers up between them, but she had trusted him enough to let him catch this rare glimpse into her psyche, and he found he was unbelievably touched.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  His arms ached to hold her but he sensed she wouldn’t welcome his touch right now, for a variety of reasons.

  “You’re absolutely right. I’ve built my life around healing and comfort, around trying to ease my patients’ pain whenever I can. It’s impossible for me to watch you hurt and not want to do everything possible to ease your way when I can. I tend to forget that you might have your reasons for taking the rougher road.”

  “You have to trust me to recognize my own limits, Jake. Please.”

  “Do you mind if I still worry about you?”

  A small, wry smile tilted the corner of her mouth. “Any chance I could stop you?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted.

  Her smile widened, became full-blown. “Go ahead, then. Just keep it to yourself.”

  They lapsed into a silence he didn’t find at all uncomfortable. She didn’t seem in a hurry to put the truck in gear and head to wherever she intended on taking the alfalfa. Instead she seemed as if she had something else on her mind, almost as if she were gathering her courage.

  The impression was confirmed when she spoke. “While I’m getting everything out into the open here, I believe I owe you an apology.”

  He frowned, trying to figure out where she was headed with this. “For?”

  “The other night.” She cleared her throat, suddenly focused on something out the windshield. “I’m afraid I was having one of those pity parties and forced you to be an unwilling guest. I’m sorry I reacted that way and bawled all over you. I don’t know what happened. I just…once I started, I couldn’t stop.”

  She looked miserable, her features tight and embarrassed, and he hated being the source of it.

  “Don’t. You have nothing to apologize about.”

  “I suppose your patients are always unloading on you.”

  “You’re not my patient, as you continually remind me.”

  He meant his words as a joke, something to lighten the mood a little, but somehow she looked even more embarrassed by them.

  “Right. You’re right.”

  He had to touch her. It had been four days and he had restrained himself as long as he possibly could. He covered her fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “Maggie. You’re more than a medical case to me. I hope you understand that.”

  She blinked at him, her dark eyes wide and confused and still so miserable he couldn’t help himself. He leaned across the cab of the pickup and found her mouth with his.

  He tried his best to keep it light, casual. But her lush mouth tasted of coffee and cinnamon, and her fingers trembled under his on the steering wheel and she made a soft sound in her throat.

  After only a tiny moment later, she pulled her hand from the steering wheel and shifted to face him on the bench seat, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close as her mouth softened and welcomed him.

  He had thought of nothing else these last few days but having her in his arms. Somehow the fantasies didn’t come close to comparing to the reality of her small, compact frame snuggled against him, of her arms holding him and her mouth responding eagerly to his kiss. />
  He was hot and aroused in an instant, consumed by the fiery need to touch her, to taste her. His hand slid under the cotton edge of her T-shirt just above the waistband of her jeans, and her abdominal muscles contracted sharply as he touched skin.

  He paused. “Sorry. Are my fingers cold?”

  Her laugh was throaty and low. “Are you kidding?”

  What else could he do but take that as permission to explore further? He curved a hand over her hip bone and leaned closer, until their bodies were tangled together.

  For long moments he was lost, aware only that he was holding the woman he loved and that by some miracle she seemed caught up in the heat and wonder, too.

  His hands slid from her waist higher, across the warm skin of her abdomen. He might have stopped there but her stomach muscles contracted and she made one of those soft, sexy little sounds and he explored further, stopping just below the curve of her breast.

  She moaned and arched against him as if inviting more, then she suddenly seemed to freeze, making a sound more of pain than arousal.

  He jerked back, feeling as if one of those alfalfa bales had just fallen on his head as awareness flooded through him.

  What the hell was he doing, making out with her in the cab of a pickup in broad daylight, in cramped quarters that couldn’t be comfortable for her, where anyone could come across them? Her mother, Wade’s ranch hand. Wade himself, for crying out loud.

  He let out a breath, disgusted with himself for losing control so completely. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. See what you do to me?”

  Her breathing was ragged and her eyes looked huge, the pupils so dark and wide they seemed to take over the irises. “What…what I do?”

  He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you. I should know better than to start something I know we can’t finish right now, no matter how badly I might want it.”