Dances of the Heart

by Andrea Downing

  “No-o-o.” She might as well give up now.

  “Well, then.”

  “Don’t tell me the Virgin Carrie is having a male guest to stay? Darling, I never knew you had it in you these days.”

  “A cowboy lover-to-be,” enlightened Paige.

  “He is not a cowboy—he’s a rancher. There’s a difference.” Carrie crossed her arms with a little nod.

  “Oh, my gosh! Why didn’t you tell me all this before? I’m going to camp at the bottom of your wing and listen. Does he ride well? Does he wear those chaps that absolutely pinpoint just how big his package is?”

  “Diana!” Carrie started marching out, then stopped in her tracks, eyes wide at Paige. “What should I wear?”

  ****

  Jake sat with his hand poised over the phone for a long time. His disgust with himself for having handed over the marijuana to Ty was so intense, he’d driven around aimlessly afterwards, unable to go home. Waves of revulsion periodically hit him after what he had done, certainly not more frightening than being in Iraq, but against every principle he held. It wasn’t drug use to which he was so vehemently opposed—plenty of his friends smoked the occasional joint—but helping a slime ball like Ty Sheldon sell the stuff, make money from others on it, was quite another matter.

  On the other hand, there was a thrill, a buzz, the excitement that had been missing since his return. He had been dragging himself from day to day, except when Paige had been around, and the trip down to Mexico had livened things up, given him an exploit. Yet, the two sides of this didn’t quite reconcile in his mind, he couldn’t explain his own feelings, and behind it all was the fact he had let down his father.

  He looked again at the note his dad had left him, an apology that he had suddenly decided to up and visit Carrie in New York, and that he was sure Jake would understand and would be able to celebrate July Fourth with friends or join the ranch party with the hunting guests, and he would be back late Monday.

  Jake held the note in his hand for a long time, partially relieved he had a break from the guilt he felt every time he faced his father, somewhat upset his own father wasn’t making a fuss of his first Fourth of July at home after several years, and moderately amazed his father had done something so serendipitous, impulsive and spontaneous.

  But it did give him a good excuse to finally phone Paige. There was no one he could talk to here, no one else who would listen without caring, give straightforward, objective advice and keep their mouth shut.

  Or would she?

  If she saw fit to tell his father what he had done, Paige darn well would. No, it was too risky.

  And then he examined again the scrap of paper on which she had scribbled her number, and picked up the phone.

  “Well, this is a surprise,” came her voice without greeting.

  “How did you know it was me?” He sat back in his armchair, wondering whether he had made the right decision.

  “I recognize the number from when I pick up my mother’s phone when Ray calls, and since Ray is now waiting at East Hampton station for my mother to collect him, and doesn’t, to my knowledge, have my cell phone number, it wasn’t too difficult to figure. How are you, Jake? Are you sorry you’re missing the party?” Her voice was prickly, a small note of sarcasm in it.

  “You having a Fourth of July party?”

  “Of course!”

  “On the mean streets of New York?” A wave of jealousy hit him, that his father was there with Carrie, that he had been left behind.

  “We’re not in New York. East Hampton, I just said.”

  There was a moment’s silence. “Isn’t that…isn’t that some way from New York?”

  “Two to three hours if you drive.”

  “Jeez,” he let out a long breath. “My dad must’ve loved that bit of news.”

  “Listen, I don’t want to be rude, and it’s lovely to hear you drawling and drooling down the phone at me, but I have a house load of visitors here I’m supposed to be taking care of while our parents have it off with each other.”

  Jake sniggered. “You think they’re at it in a car somewhere?”

  “Okay, so they’re not at it this very moment. My mother has to mentally prepare herself for it. She’s like an athlete in training, getting psyched up for the big moment. However, my take on the whole thing is she’ll see Ray at the station and drop her knickers straight away.”

  Jake guffawed.

  “Why did you phone anyway? Was it just feeling left out or to hear my dulcet tones once again?”

  “It was…” He started, but couldn’t go on. It wasn’t the right moment; she wasn’t the right person. “Yeah, I just wanted to say hello and know Dad had arrived okay. You tell him I called, will you? Tell him…tell him, it’s all right. I’ll be okay.” He was trying to keep his tone level, to keep the unsaid out of his voice.

  “Are you all right, Jake?”

  “Yeah. Sure. Look, I better go and let you get back to your shenanigans.” He hesitated again. “I’m sorry I’m not there, too.” And he was. Sorry not to see Paige once more.

  “I…It was good to hear from you, Jake. Call again, will you? I mean that.”

  He let the silence stretch before he asked, “Paige, did you decide about going—” But she’d hung up the phone.

  ****

  Carrie shot down Race Lane and made a turn to find a mess of cars on both sides of the street in front of the station. She pounded the steering wheel of her BMW in anger, blaming herself for being so late, then spotted a car just pulling out in front of Riverhead Building Supplies. Perfect. She parked and gave a cursory glance across the street to try to spot Ray.

  Stepping out of the car, she smoothed down her white sundress, patted her hair into place and waited for traffic to pass. And then she stopped.

  There, leaning back against a corner of the small station building, was Ray, his Stetson tilted slightly forward as he chatted happily away with a young man who was shaking his head in agreement. As he spoke, Ray carefully rolled up the sleeves of his check shirt before crossing his arms, displaying a good bit of muscle. And then, as the young man nodded good-bye, Ray lifted his head.

  For a moment, she stood there transfixed despite the gap in traffic. And then, starting to cross the road, her gaze locked with his. A smile spread across her face, and her whole being lit as if a match had been struck.

  “You’ve never met a stranger, have you?” she asked, coming up to him and nodding in the direction the young man had gone.

  “Nope.” He didn’t take his gaze from her. “I’ve seen loons with smaller smiles than what you have, Carrie. If I’da known my being here was gonna make you this happy—”

  “Oh, shut up,” she said leaning into him, still smiling as she tenderly kissed his lips.

  She stood back, drinking him in. Oh, shit. I’m in love.

  Chapter Seven

  Carrie concentrated on making a U-turn, then stopped at the lights by the railroad crossing. She stole a peek at Ray, hardly believing he was there in the seat beside her, and suppressed a smile as the lights changed to green. “I’m sorry there are going to be so many people here this weekend…”

  “It’s fine. I should’ve called ahead, I guess, but I thought the surprise—”

  “The surprise is wonderful. Wonderful, Ray. I can’t tell you—”

  “Yes, you can.”

  He was smiling, and a hasty glance told her it was so. Her heart bounced in her chest. “Everyone is going to love you. But they will be curious. I mean, a Texan rancher—”

  “Who they’ll no doubt call a cowboy…”

  “Whom they’ll no doubt call a cowboy, as I did—”

  “As you did.”

  “Anyway, I’m sorry.” She gripped the steering wheel as if it would fall from her hands. “And I’m sorry about the extra journey, too. You hadn’t counted on that.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

  Carrie caught the widening smile that curved his lips before
he turned away. Her heart lurched, and a small worm of nervousness began to eat its way through her body. “Though, we won’t have an awful lot of time alone,” she finally informed him.

  “We’ll have enough,” he countered.

  She ignored his implications, keeping her eyes on the road ahead. “It’ll be a very long day for you.”

  “Carrie.”

  He reached across and patted her knee, his mere touch making her want more.

  “Stop apologizing. This isn’t your fault. I should’ve called before leaving. And any time we have together is worth the trip. Really. Time with you is worth it.”

  She loved him for that, loved him for who he was, how he was. And suddenly, the other guests didn’t matter, what all those people thought didn’t matter a fig.

  He was here. Ray was here.

  And everything was going to be fine.

  ****

  Carrie’s summer home fronted on a bit of beach that lay expensively between Main Beach and Georgica Pond in East Hampton. Ray learned she had bought it, even before upgrading her New York apartment, because her former husband had once pointed it out as the most beautiful house right on the ocean. It was obvious to him that she believed it to be just that. When it had come up for sale, as she told Ray, there had been no doubt in her mind she would do anything to have it.

  He got out of the car and grabbed his bag, noting with some amusement the only vehicles in the drive were from the high end of the luxury car market. Surveying the house, a shingled, post-modern dwelling surrounded by lush plantings, he braced himself for what he would find, and the kind of people he would meet. He followed Carrie inside to a hall that spread almost the size of his entire house, then stepped down to a sunken living room that flowed out seamlessly through glass and screen doors to a pool area worthy of a Miami hotel. Two smaller hallways led either side to separate wings, and somewhere—Ray hadn’t a clue—the clatter of kitchen preparations indicated a center of operations for the evening’s celebration.

  He left his hat on top of his bag and followed Carrie out to the pool area.

  “Hi, everyone,” she announced with what, he couldn’t help noticing, was a slight touch of nervousness in her voice. “This is Ray.”

  The response, practically in unison, was a “Hello, Ray,” which immediately reminded him of an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

  He smiled, gave a non-committal wave, said, “Hey, Paige!” for which he received a crooked, knowing smile in return, and followed Carrie back into the house.

  She stopped, almost causing him to trip over her.

  “Oh, lord, what am I doing? That was ridiculous, awful. Shall I take you back out and introduce you properly? Do you want something to drink? Something to eat? Are you tired? Do you want to rest?”

  Ray put his hands on her shoulders. “What I would like more than anything right now…well, more than almost anything right now…is for you to stop frettin’ so. Carrie, you been apologizing and worrying ’bout every dang thing since I arrived. Calm down, for Pete’s sake.”

  “It’s just—”

  “I know what it’s ‘just.’ You want me to fit in and you’re worried your friends aren’t going to like me or I’m not going to like them. Look sweetheart, it’s just not worth frettin’ so. Everything will be fine. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself, and we’re not quite so socially backward in Texas as you seem to think.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘buts!’ I get a lot of real wealthy people comin’ on down to hunt on my place, and I deal with them all the time. This sort of thing doesn’t faze me. Really.” He saw Carrie beginning to open her mouth again. “Eh, eh, eh,” he said, wagging an admonishing finger in front of her. “An ice cold drink, maybe a small bite to tide me over ’til supper and someplace to lie down for a spell would be fine just now. Then you’ll see—I’ll be the life of the party.”

  Carrie appeared as if she were trying to imagine him as the life of her party. Her eyes were big with apprehension, her mouth puckered with trepidation. “All right,” she said at last. “I’ll take you…upstairs, settle you in and get you a cold drink and something to eat.”

  He grabbed his bag, plopped his Stetson on his head and followed her down one of the smaller hallways. They proceeded up a flight of steps to a furnished landing that apparently served as a study overlooking the gardens to one side of the house. A large oak desk topped with a Mac, bookcases stuffed with Carrie’s books and various dictionaries and a large inviting sofa all announced this was her hide-out.

  “So, this is where you work while out here, huh?” he asked.

  “No, not really. This is.”

  She flung open a door to a bedroom in a rhapsody of creams and blues, dominated by one of the grandest beds Ray had ever seen. And beyond, out through another set of sliding doors, lay a balconied terrace jutting out over the beach. One could almost jump from it straight into the ocean. Feeling as if he had just sauntered into the pages of a glossy magazine, Ray whistled.

  “I work out there most of the time. There’s an awning that comes down in case of rain so I can stay out, unless it’s really dreadful and blowy. Which, of course, being oceanfront it can be. But for the most part…” Her voice trailed off.

  Ray stood, hands on hips, taking in the view. “Nah, think I prefer Texas. Gets a bit monotonous—all that water just coming in and going out. I’ll take my changing colors and all.” He glanced at her to see if she knew he was joking and caught the merest hint of a smile.

  “Well, make yourself comfortable and you can rest here for now and—” She stopped as his hands went back to his hips. Embarrassed, she continued, “I’ll just pop down and get you something to eat. There’s actually a little fridge in the cloakroom on the landing, so just help yourself to a cold drink.”

  She was barely out of the room before he called after her, “You’re not one of these women who gets all coy and doesn’t like to presume the man wants to sleep with you, are you?”

  Carrie stopped and stared back at him, hesitated as if she were considering a reply, then proceeded downstairs.

  “’Course you are,” he said to himself.

  Carrie took a few minutes to collect herself as well as the food. Plate in hand, she entered her bedroom without thinking, without knocking, and gasped, stopping in her tracks as she beheld Ray there in his boxer shorts. She stifled a small laugh while her eyes no doubt deceived her. “Sorry,” she murmured, “I didn’t…”

  “It’s your bedroom.” He didn’t display the slightest bit of embarrassment as he threw the jeans he was holding over a chair.

  Carrie had a sense of being trapped, of being caught between her own desire for a relationship with this startling man and her wish not to be forced into baring herself, her need for privacy and being left to get on with her work and her world. And now, this struck her as ridiculous: a man in his boxers in her bedroom, highly unappealing with his shirt hanging down, half-shaven, his Stetson still on his head.

  “I made you a sandwich, or at least Carmen did. Are you going to nap?” she rushed on brightly, leaving the plate on a table. She went to turn down the bed for him, fluff the pillows.

  “Either that or make love to you,” he responded simply. He raised a brow, a half-smile on his face. Yet, he didn’t make a move.

  “That’s not very romantic,” she considered out loud. “You don’t just announce your intentions like that.”

  Ray sighed. “Carrie, I just come two thousand odd miles to surprise and see you. If that don’t beat romantic, I don’t know what the hell does.”

  She ran a hand through her hair. He was right; it was the most romantic damn thing to happen to her in however many years. “So, is that why you came?”

  “Carrie…for goodness sake.” He let out a deep breath and then bent to remove his socks, finally tossing his hat onto a chair. “If all I wanted was to get laid, sweetheart, I coulda saved myself a helluva lot of trouble. But you are some damn woman and…you know…you kn
ow how I feel about you. Do I have to spell it out?”

  Ray waited for a reply, but the only answer she gave him was her continued stare, wishing and waiting for the ceiling to cave in.

  “Hell, I can take a nap and you can think about it,” he went on. “But I haveta tell you, making love to you is pretty high on my list.”

  Panic rose. It started in the soles of her feet and heated her body, made her tremble inside, put ice on her spine and no doubt a flush on her face.

  She had known this was coming, but hoped it would be later. Tonight. After a few drinks at the party. No, a lot of drinks. Or maybe it wouldn’t happen. Too far gone? And then she remembered Ray was on the wagon so...perhaps he wouldn’t touch her if she had too much to drink. Perhaps. No. These were excuses running through her head. Or wishful thinking. Paige told her this was going to happen, and now it was. She was sharing her bedroom with him, and it was going to happen.

  “So, which list is that?” she finally spurted out with a hint of confusion in her voice mixed with playfulness. “Is that the to-do list, or the wish-list or the bucket list?”

  “Nope,” he said, coming over to her, gently placing his hands on her arms. “It’s the ‘what I want most of all in this world at this moment’ list.”

  Carrie stood unmoving in his embrace, suddenly wanting him and not wanting to go on, all at the same time. Yet, deep inside, it was what she, too, wanted most of all at this moment. And yet, she stood anchored to her spot, hungering for his touch to continue, yearning to get that first intimate act over with after so many years alone, yet dreading that uncovering of herself, that baring of what she saw as her inadequacies.

  “I have guests,” she said very quietly, finding an excuse, trying to postpone what was inevitable.

  “Seemed to me,” he said equally quietly, “those guests were pretty good at looking after themselves for a while. Plus, of course, Paige is there. I doubt you’ll be sorely missed for a couple of hours.”

  “A couple of hours,” she repeated.

  Ray’s hand sought the zipper at the back of her dress, and he leaned in to kiss her neck.