Rafe and Moira (Where the Heart Leads)

This is one of my favorite scenes from my second published book. Rafe invited Moira, the new director for the theater guild, to a honky tonk and has taken her out on the dance floor. 

Three dances later, Rafe was holding Moira tight against him from shoulder to knee, and it felt good.  He leaned down to nuzzle her neck.  She smelled good too, and he liked the feathery softness of her short-cropped hair brushing against his lips.  In fact, everything about her was just right.   Maybe he could take her home with him tonight—Delilah was staying with his mother and wouldn’t be back till Sunday—but it was too soon.  Besides, he was sorta her boss, and he didn’t want her to think the job came with strings.   He’d better clear that up on the way back to town.

In fact, now would be a good time to leave, while he was more glow than flames.  He made a production out of looking at his watch.

“Time to call it a day.  Your sister said y’all were plannin’ a big mornin’, and I have to get up early to take care of castrating our new calves.”  Shit—he didn’t need to say that.  But raising cattle was an earthy business, and he was feeling pretty damn earthy right about now.

Moira opened her eyes and moved out of his arms, then gave him that soft, fuzzy look women get when you’ve just awakened them.  Screw being Mr. Nice Guy—he wanted her now!

No, Rafe.  Play fair. 

He took a deep breath and caught up with Moira as she collected her purse and sweater, then picked up his hat walked her to the door.  A nighttime breeze rattled through the live oaks, and she pulled the sweater around herself like a shawl.  No need for that—he put an arm under around her shoulders and warmed her against him.  God, he was so hot, she should have felt branded.  Not that he hadn’t already branded her as his in another way—by tomorrow morning, everyone in Bosque Bend would know she’d been slow dancing with him at Good Times.   

She circled an arm around his neck and rested her sweet breasts against his chest when he lifted her up to the passenger seat.  Easy, Rafe.  Inside the cab and all belted up, she leaned back and closed her eyes.  Poor baby. She must be exhausted—within twenty-four hours, she’d moved into a new house, met her employers, been yanked out to a honky-tonk by a guy she hardly knew, and slow-danced against him like she meant it.  He tried to avoid the major bumps and jolts as he drove onto the road so as not to awaken her. 

His eyes narrowed.  It didn’t matter how tired she was—he had to set a few things straight before he got her back to the house.  Dropping his speed, he pulled off the highway into the entrance of a BUY ONE-GET-FIVE-FREE fireworks stand.  A protective steel wire with flags hanging from it blocked access to the white-painted stall itself, but left enough room in the clearing to accommodate the truck. 

Moira’s eyes snapped open as the ruck jerked to a stop and she glanced out the side window at the lonely darkness, then backed as far away from him as the seatbelt would allow.  .  “What are you doing?  Why are you parking here?”    

 He tried to sound as non-threatening as possible.  “Just wanted to talk, Moira.  Thought it was a good place to sort out a couple of things in private without Mrs. Fuller countin’ the minutes we parked in front of the house before you went in.”

Her hand moved to the door handle, and he could almost see her brain churning out possible escape routes.  “I don’t like being locked in.”

He flipped open the latch and leaned back.  

Pretty good bet she wouldn’t hop out into a cedar forest in the middle of the night. 

“First of all, I want to say thanks for going with me to Good Times, and, second, I’d sure appreciate it if you and your sister would consider coming out to the ranch Sunday afternoon.”  He gave her a lopsided smile.  “The only way I could get Delilah to stay with Sissy this mornin’ was to promise her the pretty lady would visit us this weekend so I figure two pretty ladies would make her even happier. 

Moira’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I don’t see a problem with that, but I get the feeling the other shoe is about to drop.”

He ran his hand through his hair.  How could he say what he wanted to say without her becoming one with the truck door again?  

“Okay, here goes--number three.”  He took a deep breath.  “You know I’m attracted to you—I made that pretty clear in the museum this mornin’ and while we were dancin’ at Happy Times.’  He risked a joke.  “FYI, that wasn’t a nightstick pressin’ against your belly.”     He glanced at his wedding ring, then looked at Moira.  “I’m committed to Beth in eternity, but down here on earth, I think we’d be good together.”

She was glued to the door again.  

Damn it to hell, he’d blown it.  

“For God’s sake, stop looking at me like I’m goin’ to have my wicked way with you!  Yes, I want you in my bed!  Yes, I’d like to roll you under me right now, but what I’m tryin’ to say is that whatever relationship we have is up to you!”  He ran his hand through his hair again. 

Crap, she’d grown up in Sodom and Gomorrah.  She’d probably had twice the number of lovers he had. 

“And the fourth thing I wanna make clear is that whatever you decide won’t affect your job!  You have an iron-clad contract, and I’m not in it!”

He shoved the truck into gear and floored the accelerator.