Dancing in the Moonlight excerpt

Dancing in the Moonlight

SSE #1757

On nights like this, Jake wondered what it would be like to have someone to welcome him home, someone sweet and soft and loving. It was a tantalizing thought, a bittersweet one, but he refused to dwell on it for long.

He had no right to complain. How many men had the chance to live their dreams? Being a family physician in his hometown had been his aspiration forever, from those days he worked the ranch beside his father and brothers when he was a kid.

Besides, after helping Jenny Cochran through sixteen hours of back labor, even if he had a woman in his life, right now he wouldn't be good for anything but a PB&J sandwich and the few hours of sleep he could snatch before he would have to climb out of his bed before daybreak and make this drive to Idaho Falls again.

He was only a quarter mile from that elusive warm bed when he spotted emergency flashers from a disabled vehicle lighting up the night ahead. He swore under his breath, tempted for half a second to drive on past.

Even as the completely selfish urge whispered through his brain, he hit the brakes of his Durango and pulled off the road, his tires spitting mud and gravel on the narrow shoulder.

He had to stop. This was Pine Gulch and people just didn't look the other way when someone was in trouble. Besides, this was a quiet ranch road in a box canyon that dead-ended six miles further on -- at the gates of the Cold Creek Land & Cattle Company, his family's ranch.

The only reason for someone to be on this road was if they'd taken a wrong turn somewhere or they were heading to one of the eight or nine houses and ranchettes between his place at the mouth of the canyon and the Cold Creek.

Since he knew every single person who lived in those houses, he couldn't drive on past one of his neighbors who might be having trouble.

The little silver Subaru didn't look familiar. Arizona plates, he noted as he pulled in behind it.

His headlights illuminated why the car was pulled over on the side of the road, at any rate. The rear passenger-side tire was flat as pancake and he could make out someone -- a woman, he thought -- trying to work a jack in the damp night while holding a flashlight in her mouth.

He bid a fond farewell to the dream he had so briefly entertained of sinking into his warm bed any time soon. No way could he leave a woman in distress alone on a quiet ranch road.

Anyway, it was only a flat tire. He could have it changed and send the lost tourist on her way in ten, fifteen minutes and be in that elusive bed ten minutes after that.

He climbed out and was grateful for his jacket when the wind whistled down the canyon, rattling his car door. April here on the backside of the Tetons could still sink through the skin like a thousand needles.

''Hey there,” he called as he approached. ''Need a hand?”

The woman shaded her eyes, probably unable to see who was approaching in the glare from his headlights.

''I'm almost done,” she responded. ''Thanks for stopping, though. Your headlights will be a big help.”

At her first words, his heart gave a sharp little kick and he froze, unable to work his mind around his shock. He instantly forgot all about how tired he was.

He knew that voice. Knew her.

Suddenly he understood the reason for the Arizona plates and why the Subaru wagon was heading up this quiet road very few had any reason to travel.

Magdalena Cruz had come home.

She was the last person he would have expected to encounter on one of his regular hospital runs, especially not at two a.m. on a rainy April Tuesday night, but that didn't make the sight of her any less welcome.

A hundred questions jostled through his mind and he drank in her features -- what he could see in only the glow from his vehicle's headlights anyway.

The thick hair he knew was dark and glossy was pulled back in a ponytail, yanked through the back of the baseball-style cap she wore. Beneath the cap, he knew her features would be fragile and delicate, as hauntingly beautiful as always, except for the stubborn set of her chin.

Though he didn't want to, he couldn't prevent his gaze from drifting down.

She wore a pair of jeans and scarred boots -- for all appearances everything looked completely normal. But he knew it wasn't and he wanted more than anything to fold her into his arms and hold on tight.

He couldn't, of course. She'd probably whack him with that tire iron if he tried.

Even before she had come to hate him and the rest of his family, they'd never had the kind of relationship that would have been conducive to that sort of thing.

The cold reality of all those years of impossible dreams -- and the ache in his chest they sparked -- sharpened his tone. ''Your mama know you're driving in so late?”

She sent him a quick, searching look and he saw her hands tremble a little on the tool she suddenly held as a weapon as she tried to figure out his identity.

She aimed the flashlight at him and with an inward sigh, he obliged by giving her a straight-on look at him, even though he knew full well what her reaction would be.

Sure enough, he saw the moment she recognized him. She stiffened and her fingers tightened on the tire iron. He could only be grateful he was out of range.

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