Dancing in the Moonlight

by RaeAnne Thayne

  He wouldn’t have expected it, but his tough lieutenant seemed flustered. She took several seconds to catch her breath and sent him one quick, wary look. “I…we’d better take this hay out to the pasture,” she said.

  She started the pickup, but before she could shift the transmission, he covered her fingers on the steering wheel with his hand again.

  “I’d like to take you out tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  He almost laughed at her abrupt question. How could she ask it, after the wild heat they had just shared?

  Because I’m crazy about you. Because you’re like pure adrenaline in my bloodstream and I can’t get enough.

  “Will you come with me?”

  She studied him across the width of the cab, and he saw the wheels turn in her head. When she spoke, her voice was smug, self-satisfied. “If you agree not to nag me for the rest of the day that I’m overdoing things, I’ll promise to think about it.”

  “I have to keep my mouth shut all day and you’re only going to think about it? That hardly seems fair.”

  She gave a short laugh, but it was enough for him to tumble a little deeper. She was stunning when she laughed, bright and vibrant and intoxicating.

  “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it. If you can actually zip your bossy, meddling lips while we’re working together today, I’ll go wherever you want tomorrow night.”

  “Done,” he said quickly.

  She shook her head. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t hold my breath, Dalton.”

  “Just watch me. You won’t even know I’m here all day, I swear it.”

  She had allowed herself to be boxed into a corner again and she had no one to blame but herself.

  As the sun started its long, slow slide behind the mountains, Maggie was exhausted, achy and beginning to realize she was in deep trouble.

  All day she had worked alongside Jake on the ranch. She hadn’t found it easy to ignore her awareness of him. It simmered under her skin, hot and tight, and she caught herself several times watching him work simply because she enjoyed the sight. He was a man comfortable with his body, every movement easy and fluid.

  She knew it was dangerous and self-destructive. Simply watching his muscles ripple as he unloaded hay from the pickup out in the pasture shouldn’t leave her stomach twirling, her mouth dry. And she certainly shouldn’t go breathless at the sight of him leaning down to pat one of the cow dogs, a smile on his tanned, handsome features.

  It was easier when she could stir up a good mad toward him, but he had been nothing but quietly helpful all day. Though she had spent the day right alongside him as they fed and watered and moved cattle from pasture to pasture, he had honored his promise and hadn’t uttered so much as a single chastising word.

  She had to admit, she’d even pushed the envelope, extending herself probably further than she should to see if she could goad him into breaking his vow.

  A few times she thought he would bite through his tongue with the effort it must have taken him not to say anything, especially earlier when she went into the pasture with one of their prize bulls to check the water trough pressure.

  The bull, though usually docile, had come over to investigate, head lowered, and Maggie had decided to play it safe and scramble back over the fence. Moving so fast had been painful and tough but worth it when the bull hammered against the fence a few times to show her who was boss.

  Through every risky thing she did all day, Jake refrained from nagging her about it. She wasn’t sure how he did it, but now it looked as if she was going to have to keep her end of the bargain, much to her burgeoning dismay.

  Working alongside him on the ranch was one thing. Dealing with him on the much more dangerous terrain of a social situation was something else entirely.

  She couldn’t figure a way out of it, and the idea of an actual date filled her with panic.

  Okay, the idea of a date with Jake filled her with panic.

  She didn’t know what to do about him, about the soft flutters inside her whenever he looked at her out of those blue eyes or the apparent interest she couldn’t quite understand.

  The whole idea of it made her more nervous than a dozen half-ton bulls on the warpath.

  She pushed her panic away and focused again on the sprinkler pipe that had cracked during the winter. Jake was beside her, working probably twice as fast as she could, a fact she wasn’t thrilled about.

  Apparently he hadn’t always had his head in a book growing up over at the Cold Creek. He certainly knew his ranch work.

  He worked hard, he knew what he was doing and today, at least, he kept his mouth shut. He would have been the perfect employee—if only she could keep from noticing how well he filled out those blasted Wranglers!

  She glanced at the sky, then wiped her face with the bandanna from her pocket.

  “We’re losing daylight. I can work on this Monday when Drifty comes back.”

  He settled back on his haunches, the last rays of sunlight shooting strands of gold through his dark hair.

  “You dismissing me for the day, boss?”

  She shoved her gloves in her pocket and stood, hoping he didn’t notice she had to leverage herself up using the line wheel.

  “Yeah. I think we’re both beat.” She paused. “Uh, thank you for your help today. We got a lot done.”

  He stood, looking pleased at her words. “You’re welcome.”

  He studied her intently in the fading sunlight, and she could feel herself flush under his scrutiny.

  “So would you agree I have kept our bargain all day? No nagging, no harassing, no badgering you to take it easy, right?”

  She made a face. “I suppose, though a few times there it looked like your head was going to explode with the effort it was taking to keep your mouth shut.”

  “But I did, didn’t I? I didn’t say a word, so that means you agree to let me take you somewhere tomorrow night. I believe your exact words were, I’ll go wherever you want. Am I right?”

  She clenched her jaw, wondering if this is what a field mouse felt like just before an owl swooped. “You know you are,” she muttered.

  “So we have a deal, then. You’re not going to back out on me, find some hidden loophole or something?”

  “Jeez, Dalton. Do you need me to sign a frigging contract? It’s just a date!”

  “I’m only making sure we’re clear.”

  “I said I would go and I’ll go.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty, then. Wear something comfortable.”

  She rolled her eyes, hating that he could talk so casually about something that filled her with dread.

  She opened her mouth to try answering in the same vein, but before she could get the words out, he scooped her into his arms and headed toward the house.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed. “Put me down!”

  “Forget it. I’ve kept my mouth shut all day just like you asked. And now you’re damn well going to sit down and take off the prosthesis that’s been killing you since noon.”

  “No fair. This is a deal breaker, Dalton! You promised.”

  “Too late. You already said you’d go with me. A soldier’s word is her bond, right?”

  She had two choices, as she saw it. She could throw a fit and force the issue. Or she could try to salvage a little dignity and wait until he set her down before ripping into him.

  She decided on the second choice and contented herself with fuming the rest of the way, trying hard not to focus on how warm and comforting and solid his arms felt around her.

  She was growing entirely too used to this, to him and his concern for her, and it scared her senseless. What would she do when this phase of his passed—as she had no doubt it would—and he grew tired of dealing with her assorted physical and emotional problems?

  He would break her heart into jagged shards. Didn’t she have enough broken pieces right now?

  “Okay, you’ve made your point. Put me down,” she grumbled, even
as she fought her body’s instinctive urge to snuggle into his warmth and solid strength.

  “Almost there,” he said. She couldn’t figure out how he didn’t even sound breathless.

  Just as they approached the house, she heard a car engine. Her mother’s car pulled to a stop in front of the house and an instant later Viviana rushed out, her eyes panicky and her features tight with worry.

  Too late, she realized how it must look to Viviana to find Jake carrying her.

  “What is it? What has happened to her?”

  “Nothing, Viv,” Jake answered calmly. “Everything’s just fine. I’m only making sure your daughter takes a rest.”

  His patients probably found comfort from those soothing tones, but they seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She curled her fists to keep from slugging him.

  It worked well enough for her mother, though. Viviana let out a sigh of relief. “I thought perhaps she fell again.”

  He raised an eyebrow at the last word and gave Maggie a hard look but said nothing, to her vast relief. She didn’t want to have to explain about the balance issues that still plagued her when she was tired.

  “You can put me down anytime now,” she snapped.

  “Now why would I want to do that?” he asked, sounding genuinely puzzled, though she didn’t miss the amusement in his gaze.

  “You have any idea how many ways the Army teaches you to emasculate a man?” she asked idly.

  He laughed. “A fair few, I’d guess.”

  He didn’t seem threatened in the least as he carried her up the porch steps and into the house. In the living room, he lowered her to the couch, then stepped back, leaving her oddly, irrationally bereft.

  Viviana had followed them and she stood in the doorway, watching their interaction with eyes still dark with worry.

  “I’d ask you to let me take a look at your leg,” Jake said, “but I don’t want to risk you calling me a pervert again in front of your mother.”

  She felt color soak her cheeks as Viviana’s worry changed to surprised laughter.

  “Shut up, Dalton,” Maggie snapped.

  “Lena, your manners! Jacob, will you stay for dinner? I will have it fixed in only a moment.”

  “Can’t tonight. Sorry. But Maggie and I are going out tomorrow. I told her six-thirty.”

  As she watched, a strange look passed between them, and Viviana nodded. “Good. Good. I will be sure she at least washes her face and brushes her hair before you are to come for her.”

  Feeling dusty and disheveled and about eight years old, she wanted to storm out in a huff and leave them to their jolly friendliness but she wasn’t quite certain she trusted her leg to hold her.

  She had to be content with folding her arms across her chest and glaring at both of them.

  She was further dismayed when Jake smiled at her with a strange, almost tender expression.

  “Good night, then. See you tomorrow. Six-thirty sharp.”

  Before she knew what he intended, he stepped forward and planted a hard, fierce kiss on her mouth, right there in front of her mother.

  Just when she was beginning to feel light-headed, he stepped back, shoved on his Stetson and sauntered out of the room. She could swear as he walked out of the house she could hear him whistling, the bastard.

  She shifted her gaze to her mother and found Viviana beaming at her. Damn. Just what she needed, for Viviana to take that kiss as permission to fill her mind with all kinds of unreasonable things.

  “He is taken with you.” Viviana’s eyes sparkled.

  “He’s only hanging around out of pity,” she voiced out loud what her heart had been telling her all along.

  Viviana frowned, planting hands on her petite hips. “Stop it! This is not true.”

  “Why else would he develop this sudden interest?”

  “Not sudden. You just never see it before.”

  She paused in the middle of rolling up her pant leg so she could get rid of the prosthesis. “See what?”

  “Jacob. He has always had the interest.” Her mother’s voice was brisk. “Always he asks of you. How you are, what you are doing. Every time he would see me, he would ask of you.”

  What was she supposed to think of that? She let out a breath as she worked to doff her prosthesis. Though she preferred taking it off in the privacy of her bedroom, the long day and strenuous activities she’d engaged in had lowered her pain threshold and she couldn’t wait.

  Nothing. His questions meant nothing. He was a polite person, probably only looking for some topic of conversation with her mother.

  “I’m an interesting medical case. That’s all.”

  Her expression solemn, Viviana watched her remove the prosthesis. After she set it aside with an almost painful rush of relief, Viviana sat beside her on the couch and touched her hand.

  “When your commander from the Army called to tell me about the attack and that you were very hurt, we did know not your condition or even if you would live. Marjorie came to be with me that night while we waited to hear, and Jacob came with his mother. Lena, never have I seen a man so upset. Marjorie and I cried and cried, we were so worried for you. Jacob was strong for us, but his eyes! They were shocked and sad and…and lost.”

  Viviana paused and she touched Maggie’s hand again. “Then they called again to tell me you would lose part of your leg and we cried more. But Jacob, he made us ashamed. He told us to stop being sad for you. He sat in that chair there and said, ‘A foot is only a foot. She will survive now. She will live, and that is the only thing that matters.’”

  She barely had time for that to sink in when Viviana pressed her warm, soft cheek to hers. “He was only part right, niña. You survive. But you do not live. My heart, still it worries for you.”

  “I’m fine, Mama.”

  Her mother didn’t look convinced, but she let the subject drop. “I will fix you something to eat and then you will rest.” Viviana bustled from the room before Maggie could tell her she wasn’t hungry.

  After she left, Maggie leaned her head against the high-backed sofa and tried not to think about Jake, but it proved an impossible task, like trying not to think about a tooth that ached. He filled her mind, her senses, and she couldn’t seem to think about anything else.

  Chapter Eleven

  At twenty-five minutes past six, Jake drove under the archway over the drive to Rancho de la Luna, his shoulders tight with exhaustion and his mood dark and dismal as a January storm.

  Under other circumstances he would have called things off with Maggie tonight and rescheduled for a better day when he felt more in the mood. But events were out of his hands and he knew he had no choice.

  The day had started out badly, with an early-morning call from one of his patients’ wives that her husband was having a hard time breathing. By the time he arrived at their house five minutes later, just ahead of the ambulance crew, Wilford Cranwinkle had stopped breathing altogether and his wife, Bertie, had been frantic.

  Heart attack, he’d quickly determined. A bad one, much worse than the one Wilford had suffered two years earlier that had led to behavior and diet changes.

  Jake had ridden the ambulance with Wilford to the hospital in Idaho Falls, trying everything he and the paramedics could to save the man’s life, to no avail.

  By the time Bertie arrived, the task of telling her that her husband of forty-two years had not survived fell to Jake.

  It had been a bitter day, the kind of terrible loss that made him question whether he could have done more—and even if he ever should have become a physician in the first place.

  He also couldn’t help but remember that fall day more than nineteen years earlier when he and Maggie had tried and failed to save another heart attack victim.

  Some days it seemed the ghost of Hank Dalton followed him around everywhere, whispering in his ear what a poor excuse for a doctor he was, how he was a miserable excuse for a son, how he would never amount to any kind of stockman if he couldn’t yank
his nose out of a damn book.

  As he’d been showering and changing to prepare to pick up Maggie, he also couldn’t help thinking how his efforts to pierce her hard, prickly shell reminded him painfully of his youth and adolescence spent trying so hard to win his father’s approval.

  She pushed him away at every turn, blocking his every attempt to reach through her defenses to the woman inside.

  Tonight, for instance, he half expected her to back out and refuse to go with him. The mood he was in, he almost wanted her to, just so he could vent some of the raging emotions inside him by the physical act of hauling her to his SUV.

  He turned off his engine and sat for a moment trying to let the soft beauty of the Luna seep through his turmoil to calm him. The ranch was lovely in the gathering twilight, with its breathtaking view of the Tetons’ west edge, the stately row of cottonwoods lining the creek, those unique silver-gray cattle quietly grazing in the fields.

  It was a perfect evening for what was in store, he thought as he climbed out, unseasonably mild for late April with the lush smell of growth and life in the air.

  Hoping his exhaustion didn’t show in his eyes, he climbed the stairs and rang the doorbell. He could hear her slow steps approaching the door, and a moment later it swung open.

  In an instant the breath seemed to leave his chest in a rush. She wore a loose, flowing pair of pants and a gauzy white shirt that made her dusky skin look sultry and exotic.

  Her hair was a mass of soft curls that instantly made him want to bury his face in them, and she wore several bangle bracelets and long, dangly earrings.

  It was the first time in recent memory he’d seen her dressed as a girly-girl. She looked as lovely and intoxicating as the spring evening, and with a little start of surprise, he realized all the dark memories of the day had started to recede. They were still there but they seemed suddenly as distant as the moon that gave her ranch its name.

  When he said nothing, only continued to stare, Maggie squirmed. “You said wear something comfortable. This is comfortable.”