Rafe laid his navy suitcoat over the back of a living room chair and watched Cora and Janine play a game of crazy eights as he waited for Shannon. From Janine’s side, Buster glanced up at Rafe as if he didn’t know him in the dress clothes.
Rafe was about to go out onto the porch to wait, hoping to pick up a cool breeze, when Shannon came into the living room from the hall leading to her bedroom. The sight of her hit him like an arrow finding its mark in a bull’s-eye. He knew she had curves any woman would envy, coupled with a slenderness that made her look good even in jeans and T-shirt. Tonight, though, she looked like a different woman from the one who spoke softly to horses, as well as to his daughter. She was wearing a black linen dress trimmed in white. It had short, puffed sleeves, a square neck that showed off her creamy skin, and a slim skirt trimmed with white at the hem that came just to her knees. With her patent-leather high heels, her legs looked long, and he felt his body already tightening with anticipation of feeling her against him. She’d swept her hair up into a topknot, and curls fell everywhere. They tempted and teased around her face, begging to be touched. Her earrings were black onyx trimmed in gold, and a matching oval necklace lay delicately at her throat. She was absolutely stunning.
Over her arm she carried a silky white shawl with long fringes. She lifted it slightly. “I thought I’d take this along in case the restaurant’s cool.”
Before he thought better of it he responded, “I’ll keep you warm.” He knew his hunger for her had to show in his eyes. But tonight he didn’t care. Tonight they’d live moment by moment and let the evening take them to a natural conclusion. He was hoping Shannon would want the same conclusion he did.
Cora cleared her throat loudly, and Rafe realized he and Shannon had been standing there for several long moments, just gazing at each other.
“I have Rafe’s cell phone number,” Cora reminded them. “But I don’t expect I’ll have to use it. Janine and I are going to play cards until I win a game, then watch TV and have hot-fudge sundaes. So don’t you worry about us.”
Rafe had been concerned about leaving Janine tonight, but he’d talked to her about it and she’d seemed unconcerned that he and Shannon were going out for dinner and wouldn’t be back until late. She’d just motioned to her stack of books, games, Cora and Buster, and given him a small smile and a shrug that told him she should be fine.
He was beginning to believe she might be.
Tonight he didn’t want to think about anything but Shannon—and now—and how the night could end.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes.” There was a decisiveness in Shannon’s answer, and a sense of promise. She might be a dreamer, but she knew about trade-offs, too. Capturing all they could for as long as they could might satisfy them both.
They drove through Fawn Grove, then took the highway leading to Sacramento. Shannon had been quiet since they’d left the ranch, and he wondered what she was thinking. “Have you had any more cancellations?”
When she glanced over at him, her expression was serious. “Two more. I’m hoping if clients haven’t called by now, they won’t. It’s prospective clients that I’m concerned about.”
“Having the Rocky R open to the public will solve that.”
“You seem so sure.”
“All they have to do is talk with you and see how you relate to the kids and the horses. If it takes more than that, then you probably don’t want to work with them.”
She smiled at his logic. “I hope you’re right.”
Her hands were lying in her lap, and he reached over and covered one of them with his. “I know I’m right. And now, for the rest of tonight, you can’t think about the Rocky R or your work. Got it?”
“What am I supposed to think about?” she asked flippantly.
“A man and a woman having a very good time.” He knew the huskiness of his voice conveyed exactly what he wanted to do with her. He sensed her sharp intake of breath, as if she was imagining having that very good time.
Rubbing his thumb sensually across hers, he added, “Tonight is just for us.”
Shannon didn’t respond. She didn’t protest or ask what he meant, either, because they both knew the sparks between them from the first day they’d met had been fueled by tastes and touches of desire. He suspected she couldn’t deny the need and hunger growing between them any more than he could.
The Top Hat Inn had a classy restaurant with the look of another era. The building housing the restaurant was a stately brick that looked more like a mansion than an inn. Though the parking lot was large, it was three-quarters filled. Rafe found a spot, expertly pulled in and switched off the ignition.
When he glanced over at Shannon, he could feel a terrific pull toward her. His body was already revved up because of the sweet scent of her, the creamy length of her arms so close to his, her smile that was almost shy when she glanced at him. He’d never considered Shannon shy, but maybe she felt the same anticipatory excitement that he did.
Unfastening his seat belt, he climbed out of the car and went around to her door. When he opened it, he offered her his hand and she took it. After he’d assisted her out, he didn’t let go but tugged her close to his chest.
She gazed up at him with wide, brown eyes that seemed entirely too innocent and vulnerable. Instead of kissing her on the mouth, he brushed his lips across her temple, murmuring, “This is going to be a night to remember.”
Shannon trembled when Rafe’s lips brushed her skin. She knew this could be a night to remember if she let it. She loved Rafe Pierson. Could she forget about the future and dreams and grab on to what she could have now? Wouldn’t that be more than she’d ever had?
Twining her arms around Rafe’s neck, she kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Then let’s get started.”
His emerald-green eyes now held a fire that she wanted to experience. When, where and how didn’t seem to matter much. They’d just take the night one special moment by one special moment.
Rafe tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked up the brick path to the front door where wrought-iron gas lights burned on either side, like beacons in the onset of dusk. Inside, they found a hostess dressed in a red chiffon gown reminiscent of the Big Band Era. There were pictures of Tommy Dorsey and Guy Lombardo, Cyd Charisse and Fred Astaire on the walls, along with a three-foot poster advertising Singing in the Rain.
As the hostess showed Shannon and Rafe to their table, Shannon noticed that the waiters were dressed in tails and the large room was decorated in black and silver. There were small vases on each table resembling top hats, containing white carnations and ferns. Small candles in crystal globes flickered where patrons were seated. Some of the smaller tables, with their white tablecloths, were fairly close together. There was a quietness about the room, even with the low voices, that said diners came here to spend a private evening with someone special, eating excellent cuisine and savoring the good things in life.
Before the waiter seated her, Shannon glimpsed a grand piano at one corner of the dance floor and the setup for a band. The waiter lit their candle, handed Rafe the wine list and departed.
Rafe laid the small leather folder on the table and eyed Shannon over the candle. “What do you think?”
“I think this place is wonderful.”
He tapped the wine list. “I think it’s only fitting we have champagne, don’t you?”
She felt a bit embarrassed, but wanted Rafe to know just how many new experiences he was leading her into. “I’ve never had champagne.”
His brows arched. “You’re kidding.”
Giving a little shrug, she explained, “I guess the right occasion never came up.”
“What about your engagement?”
“That was pretty cut-and-dried. Allen brought over a bottle of Chianti and we had it with pizza.”
Rafe’s brow creased, and he shook his head. “Chianti and pizza are great. But champagne and lobster are even better. You have eaten lobster?” he asked with a slow, crooked grin.
“Yes, I have. And I love it.”
They found so many subjects to talk about as they sipped champagne and waited for their orders. Every once and a while their gazes would collide, and one of them would lose their train of thought. Then she or Rafe would smile, and they’d move onto something else.
A couple who looked to be in their midtwenties was seated at the table next to them. Shannon glanced at them briefly and saw that the young brunette wasn’t smiling. The young man with her looked much more relaxed. Their tables were close enough that as she and Rafe talked, she heard the man order for both of them. The woman started to protest, but the man gave her a sharp look, and she was instantly quiet. Shannon told herself she was reading too much into the interchange and turned her attention back to the succulent lobster the waiter placed in front of her and the intense fire in Rafe’s green eyes.
The band began playing, first dinner music and then old-fashioned melodies that Shannon recognized because her mother had tuned in often to a radio station that played them. “Twilight Time” wrapped around their table as Shannon and Rafe ate their dinner with a growing sensual awareness between them. Once, he reached over and brushed a lingering spot of melted butter from the corner of her lip. He did it easily, slowly, looking into her eyes, watching her response.
She felt as if everything between them was almost magical tonight. His knee grazed hers under the table, and she didn’t move away. Her whole body tingled. Her champagne glass was empty now, but she still felt as if golden bubbles were dancing excitedly inside of her. The chocolate cheesecake they ordered for dessert was as temptingly wicked as the depths of Rafe’s green eyes. They followed it with demitasse cups of espresso.
When the band began the strains of “Fascination,” Rafe stood and held out his hand to Shannon. She took it and followed him to the dance floor. Gathering her into a ballroom position, he swept her onto the floor, expertly guiding her. He was easy to follow, easy to hold on to, easy to want in a way she’d never wanted a man. He was devastatingly handsome tonight in his navy suit, white dress shirt, and red-and-navy silk tie. She didn’t once trip or miss a step, and the music flowed smoothly, making her almost dizzy.
After the next melody began, she noticed it was much slower and she didn’t recognize it. Rafe drew her closer into his arms, brought their hands into his chest, and held her possessively. The sheer romantic thrill of the night, and the music, and being held in Rafe’s arms was intoxicating. His hand was making caressing circles on her back, and she knew he could feel her trembling.
“Shannon?” he asked. His face was so very close to hers.
“What?” she breathed.
“You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight.”
She wasn’t the type of woman men used lines on, but she could tell this was no line. Rafe meant it, and she felt herself melting deeper into him. “No one’s ever called me beautiful before.”
“Then they’re all fools.”
The heat generated by their bodies pressed together almost made Shannon feel wild…wanton…driven. The anticipation of being wrapped in Rafe’s arms, being one with him, thrilled her in ways she never expected, making her insides feel like hot lava, urging her to think in the moment, feel in the moment and forget about the future.
Slowly he lowered his head. His lips sealed to hers, and she thought about nothing but now. Although there were couples dancing around them, Shannon was unmindful of anything except Rafe—the hot wetness of his tongue, the lingering taste of chocolate and expresso, the excitement and arousal that were so new to her. Allen’s kisses and lovemaking had been competent, but never fiery, never all-consuming, never possessively demanding. She’d thought that was what she’d wanted. She’d been wrong.
When Rafe broke the kiss and raised his head, his breathing was ragged and she understood why.
“We’d better slow this down.” His voice was husky as he put a little space between them. “Let’s go back to the table.”
He kept his arm around Shannon as they made their way through the dancers. After he pulled out a chair and seated her, he took his chair across from her.
The music stopped, and Shannon was aware that the couple at the table closest to them seemed to be having a heated conversation. She tried to block it out, and as Rafe’s gaze settled on her face, she did.
Reaching across the table, he took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “How would you feel about getting a room so we can go some place private?”
She knew exactly what he was asking her, and she knew she wanted the intimacy Rafe was offering. When she opened her mouth to tell him she liked his idea, the words never came out.
At the table next to them, the man jumped to his feet and angrily grabbed the woman’s arm. “I said we’re going to dance.”
“Not when you’ve been drinking,” the brunette pleaded. “And you can’t drive home like this, either.”
Angrily he yanked her to her feet. “Don’t you tell me what I am and am not going to do. You take orders from me.”
The woman’s voice shook when she spoke, and she looked scared. “Not this time.” She turned and walked out.
The man’s furious words, the expression on his face, seemed to toss Shannon back in time. She could hear another man’s voice—her father’s. She could see her mother’s face. She could hear her mother moan…
“What’s wrong, Shannon?”
Although she realized she was still holding Rafe’s hand, her fingertips felt numb. “I…nothing’s wrong.”
“The hell it isn’t. You’re white.”
She felt hot and cold and needed fresh air to take deep breaths to clear her body and her mind of memories that had been buried for a very long time.
Standing, Rafe came around to her and pulled her out of her chair. Then he picked up her purse, handed it to her and draped her shawl around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go outside for a few minutes.”
Shannon let Rafe guide her through the restaurant, through the foyer and outside. A car sped past them, and Shannon spotted the driver—the brunette from the table next to theirs. Maybe tonight she was leaving her husband. Maybe she wouldn’t wait to sneak away in the dead of night.
Rafe’s arm was protective around Shannon. Ever since he’d come into her life, feelings she’d forgotten had bubbled up. Her emotions seemed more intense. Had she been frozen all these years to protect herself from falling in love? Why was her love for Rafe and for his daughter reopening her old wounds?
Because maybe they never healed, a small voice whispered. You willed it behind you but maybe it never really was behind you.
Instead of guiding her toward the parking lot, Rafe turned in the other direction toward a walk of flagstones that wound through a grove of pines. He stopped just beyond the pool of lights beaming from the front of the restaurant. “Tell me what happened in there,” he demanded gently.
Old habits took over. “It was nothing, Rafe. Really. I just…” Her voice wavered, and she realized if she wanted him to know her—really know her—she had to tell him what had upset her. “That scene inside triggered a flash from the past.”
“Did your fiancé abuse you?” he asked gruffly.
“No. But my father abused my mother. It went on until I was nine. He didn’t need alcohol to make him mean. There was no logic to it. My mother tried to give him everything he wanted, please him in every way, make their life perfect. She couldn’t. He’d never tell her exactly when he’d be home for supper, but if dinner wasn’t ready when he came home, he’d slap her. Or worse.”
“And you saw all of this?”
“I spent a lot of time in my room when my father was there, where I’d be out of his way. I wondered if the fighting was my fault…if somehow I was the one who was doing something wrong.”
“But you learned differently, I hope.”
“Eventually. After we got out.”
“Your mother finally left him?”
This was the hard part, the part she’d once confided in a mentor but never to anyone else. “One night he was particularly angry about something that happened at work. Mom served something he didn’t like or want. He threw it on the floor and then he went after her. I’d always stayed out of it before, like mom wanted. But I couldn’t stand to watch him hit her again. So I got between them.”
She shivered thinking about it. “He grabbed me instead of Mom…so hard that he dislocated my shoulder. Then he backhanded me. Somehow my mother grabbed me and rushed me into her bedroom, locking the door. He pounded on it. I thought the wood would break and he’d come in, anyway. But after he kicked it, he left the apartment. My mother threw a few things into a suitcase, grabbed the money she’d saved and took me to the emergency room. A nurse there helped find a shelter for us. We were living in San Francisco then, but Aunt Cora was in Sacramento. After a few nights in the shelter my mother phoned Aunt Cora and we went to live with her until we got our own apartment and my mom found a job. Neither of us really felt safe until a year later when we learned my father had been killed in a brawl.”
Rafe wrapped his arms around her. “You’re trembling.”
She was. And she couldn’t understand it. She’d forgotten about all of it. She’d put it all in the past. But now it was there—in her heart and in her head, as if she were a child again.
Rafe held her for long, silent moments. Then his voice was raspy when he spoke. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Resting his chin on top of her hair, he stroked her back, soothing her, calming her.
Finally she looked up at him. “I don’t know why all of this is coming back now.” She felt so very vulnerable. Is that what love did?
Inside, a few minutes ago, she’d been about to accept Rafe’s invitation to take a room for the night…to make love with him. If she made love with Rafe Pierson, she’d lose her heart completely. She’d be giving him unequivocal power over her. The risk might be worth it…if she knew she had the same kind of power over him. But she didn’t. Rafe desired her, but she didn’t know how much he cared about her. Just as she’d guarded her heart all these years, he was guarding his now. He was determined not to get involved. He wanted physical pleasure, not commitment and promises, and a future together. It hit Shannon hard that she could see so clearly that she yearned for commitment and promises and a life together with Rafe.
He’d said his wife had needed him too much and he never wanted anyone to need him that way again. Shannon didn’t want to need him, but she did. It was a need she’d have to deny if she wanted to remain whole, if she wanted to remain in control of her own life, if she wanted to not fall apart when Rafe left.
Leaning away from him, she murmured, “I think we’d better go back to the ranch.”
His expression was sober when he looked down at her. “All right. If that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want.”
Rafe dropped his arms to his sides, and she felt bereft without them around her. All evening they had seemed so close, and now there was distance again between them.
But she knew distance was safer for both of them.
After church service on Sunday, Shannon turned the horses into the pasture, thinking about her silent ride home from Sacramento with Rafe the night before. After they’d returned to the Rocky R, they’d said good-night. Rafe hadn’t kissed her or touched her. She’d asked to come home instead of staying in a room at the inn with him. He wasn’t the type of man to push…or to ask twice.
Shannon closed the gate to the pasture and walked around Marigold’s shed. When she heard a soft mumbling, she stopped and carefully peeked around the smaller structure. Janine was feeding the pony an apple, whispering to her. Shannon couldn’t hear what the little girl was saying, but the point was—she was talking.
If she told Rafe…
He might try to force Janine to talk sooner than she was ready to.
The crunch of tires on gravel alerted Shannon to a car coming down the lane. Janine’s whispering stopped. Shannon kicked gravel coming around the corner of the shed so Janine would know she was there. “It looks like we have visitors, honey. Let’s go up to the house.”
Janine tucked her hand into Shannon’s and walked beside her as they rounded the grassy side of the barn and crossed to the porch. Cora was standing there talking to a man who was about five-eight with medium-brown hair. He wore a white polo shirt with casual trousers, and Shannon wondered who he was.
But when Rafe came outside, it was obvious he knew the man. “Sam. What are you doing here?”
Sam looked Rafe up and down, from his faded T-shirt and jeans to his black boots. “Don’t you look like you’re on vacation!”
“I guess you know this fellow?” Cora asked with a smile.
Shannon and Janine had come up onto the porch by then, and Rafe introduced their guest. “Sam Patterson, this is Shannon Collins, the owner of the Rocky R. You know Janine. And this is Shannon’s Aunt Cora. Sam’s a deputy D.A. and works with me back in Salinas.”
After Sam nodded to Shannon, he addressed Rafe again. “Duncan sent me to find out when you’d be back. He never expected you to be gone this long.”
“I took a leave for two months.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m supposed to convince you to come back sooner. Duncan says he’s invested too much time and effort into you to let you stray for any length of time.”
The two men stared at each other in silent communication until Rafe repeated, “I took two months, and I’ll be away for two months.”
Cora broke the tension. “Would you like to stay for lunch, Mr. Patterson? We were just about to sit down.”
With a conciliatory smile, Sam nodded. “I’d like that. Maybe I can talk some sense into the man who’s supposed to be the next D.A. of Monterey County.”
Rafe’s gaze connected with Shannon’s, and her heart gave a lurch. Rafe might be rethinking his career, but he wouldn’t give up the opportunity to move into a position as prestigious as district attorney. Any hopes she had about him staying, any dreams she might have nurtured, were as intangible as wisps of smoke in a breeze.
Rafe Pierson had a life in Salinas, and he would be returning to it.