In a Moon Smile (40 page)

Chesney’s face popped into his mind and Dalton grinned. She was, by far, one of the most intelligent, focused and hardworking women he had ever met. He even accepted her moodiness and those thirty-second temper flares. She was a perfect mix of tomboy and woman. He loved how her hair was always tied back in that messy ponytail. Most of the time, she wore an old ball cap. She was simple and real, all the way down to the paint splatters on her pretty legs.

As silly as it might sound to other guys, Dalton knew exactly when his heart attached itself to Chesney Blake. It was the rainy day she waded into the middle of the pond, trying to get to the dead deer. She was shivering and mad, spluttering curse words under her breath as she stomped up the hill. On that day, Dalton used up all of his self-discipline. All he wanted in the whole world was to pull her onto his arms, right there in the downpour. He wanted to tell Chesney that he was absolutely crazy about her. And he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to reassure her about the renovations. He wanted her to know he would work himself to death to get everything exactly how she wanted it to be. He wanted to tell her he would never hurt or disappoint her.

But as Chesney stomped up the hill that day, humiliated and angry, she glared over her shoulder like he was the enemy and Dalton said nothing. A few minutes later, he heard her crying while she was in the shower. That woman’s pride, well, it was something to be admired but also feared sometimes too.

When Becca insisted a few nights ago that he and Chesney take a walk down the lane, Dalton’s chest was on fire. He wanted to slip his hand into hers. He wanted to linger under the trees and kiss her. In fact, he almost did kiss her. Right there by the porch. He had stared long and hard into her eyes but he had no way of knowing if Chesney felt anything for him past friendship. He thought often about the situation.

If he did approach Chesney and she rejected him, she might fire him. She might feel there was no other choice. She might believe that allowing Dalton to continue to work would result in both of them feeling uncomfortable. If that scenario came true, Dalton would never see her again. So maybe it was best to be patient. Keep waiting and looking for a sign of interest. Maybe Chesney wasn’t ready for a new relationship, anyway. Sometimes that pain in her eyes seemed to fade. Other days, it seemed to overtake her. He decided to leave things as they were for now, quietly loving her and hoping her heart would warm enough for him to move into her life.

Every morning, he rushed to get chores done at home. He hadn’t stocked his pantry since the day he started working at Chesney Ridge. He hadn’t ridden any of his horses, hadn’t invited his niece to bring a friend and stop by the stable to ride. Every free moment he had, Dalton was in this big old dilapidated house, secretly spying on its owner, the woman who made his heart actually dance in his chest.

For at least a month, Dalton made up projects and required way too much time to complete them once they were started. He did it so he could watch Chesney strip wallpaper or fuss over where to place furniture. Silly, he knew, and certainly not good for business. He was doing side jobs at night because he wanted to be with Chesney during the day.

He imagined her curves, just as he imagined her kiss and the scent of her hair. He imagined how her body would feel against his own. And he wanted that experience more than he had ever wanted anything else in his life. This morning when she floated down the stairs wearing that tight skirt, he went crazy inside. Her hair was all over the place, like Godiva. It reached past her shoulders and a few strands hung in her eyes. He wanted Chesney Blake more than he had ever wanted any other woman.

Ten years ago at Grace's funeral, Dalton recalled how breathtaking Chesney was, her auburn hair blew in the soft breeze as the family gathered around the grave. Her grandmother's hankie was clutched in her fist. She was beautiful then, barely a woman. Now she was mature. And Dalton found her even more incredible.

Dalton glanced at his beat-up old watch. He wondered again what Chesney might be doing right at the same moment and decided to go home and get some work done around the farm. “Blossom, do you want to go home with me?” Dalton smiled, picked up the high-energy, wiggling puppy and got in the truck. By the time he fed and watered the horses and took some extra time to visit with Rose and her colt, the sun was going down. With Blossom close at his heels, Dalton walked across the road to open his mailbox. Smiling, he removed a small brown package. Inside the box was a collection of novels authored by Chesney Grace Blake.

Chesney hurried through the crowded airport, feeling tired and preoccupied. As she stepped outside LaGuardia to hail a cab, she wondered how to shake off this terrible mood. Standing in the bright sun, surrounded by a rush of hurrying, stomping New Yorkers, she realized she was no longer enamored with the constant buzz of this city. All she really wanted was to return to the silence of Chesney Ridge. Strange feelings mulled around in her chest. Maybe she just didn’t yet feel ready to leave the house. Maybe all the months of seclusion and long hours of labor had simply thrown her off balance. But she didn’t feel comfortable here. She hated to admit it, but this feeling might also be connected to the handyman. That possibility pissed her off.

“My current emotional state has absolutely nothing to do with Dalton Moore and his stupid mixed messages,” she whispered as she climbed into the backseat of a taxi and leaned over the seat to splutter Gloria’s office address to the driver. “No, I certainly do not miss this city mess,” Chesney muttered as she stared out the dirty cab window. She yearned to go home and curl up on the window seat at Chesney Ridge with a great read. “Stop here, please,” she tapped the cabbie's shoulder. “I will walk the rest of the way.”

She stuffed some bills into the driver's hand and stepped out in the sunshine. With her bag over her shoulder, Chesney walked along the crowded sidewalk, one foot in front of the other, with Dalton Moore tugging at her mind with every step. She wondered why Dalton made such an impression on her. What was it about this particular man that seemed to settle on her skin? And what was Dalton's connection to Ben? There had to be some type of connection. Ben's eyes and Dalton's eyes were the same shade of blue. And what about Becca? Something was definitely going on with her. What if she fell in love with Deke? What if Becca actually gave up her fancy life in Chicago to live a yawn in Bean Blossom? Well, that would make Chesney the happiest woman in the world.

She walked into the Price Winthrop building near Times Square and pressed the elevator button. During the ride to the twenty-third floor, she fluffed her hair and smoothed her skirt.

“Well hello, Country Bumpkin,” called John, the art director, as he rushed to meet Chesney as she stepped out of the elevator. He hugged her hard and smiled. “So tell me, sweets. How are things in the country?”

“Peaceful, quiet, serene,” Chesney smiled and kissed John’s pink cheek. “But then there are horribly long hours involved with painting, wallpapering,...”

“Sounds dreadful,” John shuddered. “But you’re looking gorgeous, love. I can’t wait until tomorrow morning’s photo shoot. By the way, Chez, is sevenish too early for you? I know you detest early-morning appointments, but we’ve had to squeeze in the time with the photographer.”

Even though she laughed, tears burned her eyes when Chesney thought about how much her life had changed. When she resided in Chicago and traveled to New York, she rarely saw the world before ten o’ clock in the morning. In her new life, she shared many early-morning coffee chats with Dalton. These days, she watched the sunrise. These days, she completed a whole day’s work by noon.

“Seven in the morning is nearly afternoon for me these days, John,” she laughed. “I’ll be here.”

“Perfect,” he smiled. “I’m sorry Gloria’s out right now, darling, but she can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s not a problem,” Chesney felt relieved but struggled not to show it. “I’ll go ahead to my hotel.” She hugged him a last time, waved good-bye and nearly sprinted to the elevator.

Once she was settled at the Parker Meridian, Chesney enjoyed a long, hot shower. She ordered room service, including a bottle of wine, then dialed Becca’s number.

“Have I told you that Deke calls every evening? And that we never run out of things to say?” Becca sighed happily. “Chez, I really like him. Every time we talk, I like him more. And I, well, sometimes I’m just so afraid of this.”

“Don’t be afraid, sweetie,” Chesney said softly. “Deke is a good man.”

Even in college, Becca rarely dated. She was quick to cut a guy off at the knees. Her reputation as a ball buster never seemed to offend her, either. But Becca wasn’t the type to sit down and confess her bad habits then explain all the reasons why those habits were there. She seemed to enjoy being bitchy. But now, she was warm and receptive. Hearing that smile in Becca’s voice made Chesney happy. She had never known Becca to react this way to a man.

“How are things going with Dalton?” Bec asked. “Have you moved past employer-employee mode?”

“Stop it, Bec,” Chesney offered a fake laugh. “There’s nothing going on between Dalton and me, I told you that.”

“If that’s so, Chez, it’s only because you’re so damn stubborn,” Becca said.

No, Bec, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m scared to death.
I’m terrified. I have failed every single time I tried to have a relationship. I’m beginning to think I don’t possess the skills to make my life a happy one with a man. I always choose wrong. I always end up giving way too much of myself. I always fall in love with the bad guys.

Becca rambled on a bit about Deke. But she always brought the conversation back to Chesney and Dalton. Chesney didn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t want to miss him, either, so she decided to end the call. “Tomorrow will be a long day. So I’d better hang up.”

Her intentions were good, but the moment Chesney’s head hit the pillow, she was wide awake. The damn traffic noises, horns and police sirens magnified in her ears. She had stopped loving the lively, around-the-clock world of New York. She much preferred the birds, crickets and tree frogs of Chesney Ridge. But the noise wasn’t the only problem. For some reason, her prior romances paraded through her head. Her list of failures lined up like runway moments. She saw every man who lied. She took a long look at each cheater and she listed every single one who disappointed her by being too lazy, too busy, too selfish and too stupid. There it was in vivid color.

Just because every man I happen to date turns out to be a nightmare, I guess I should  not assume that every single man on the planet is a reptile. It only means that I’ve made lots of lousy decisions
.

Long before the sun rose over the skyscrapers, Chesney was freshly showered. She fussed with her hair in front of the hotel room mirror, mindlessly swatted at her face with powder and traded the comfortable hotel room robe for the black, form-fitting dress.

“Get your act together,” she snapped at a blood-shot-eyed reflection. “You have a lot riding on this photo shoot. You can’t afford to lose your mind today.”

Another cab ride later, she was at Gloria's office door. Her eyes felt puffy. Her legs were weak. Lack of sleep and too much wine had definitely caught up with her somewhere between the latte at the motel and the cab ride across the city at rush hour.

“Too bad you feel like warmed hell,” Chesney muttered. “You have a job to do. You’ve got to get out of this funk.” She took a deep breath, willing that terrible homesick feeling to disappear, at least for a two-hour window of time.

“Chesney,” Gloria hurried from behind her desk, shoving her too-big glasses into her brassy bleached hair. “You look absolutely stunning!”

That's odd. I haven't slept. I feel like I am still inebriated from my evening alone with wine at the hotel. And I'm completely enamored with my handyman. Hmmm,  tragedy must look especially good on me.

Gloria offered a seat on a comfortable leather chair next to her messy desk. She barked at Marcus, her adorable secretary, to deliver coffee. Then she smiled her way across the room to show Chesney her excitement about several different book jacket ideas.

Though she smiled and nodded, pretending to be interested, at this moment, Chesney didn’t care if Gloria graced the cover with giant color photos of asses. She only wanted to go home. Now that she actually had a true home, she discovered that it was the only place she wanted to be. While Gloria gushed, Chesney glanced at the time, hoping she could rush the photo shoot, catch an earlier flight and get the hell away from here.

“John is waiting in the studio,” Gloria beamed as she stood up from behind her desk, which was a massive slab of black granite. “Darling, do you need a couple of cups of coffee before you face the make-up artist and the camera?”

“No,” Chesney lied. “I'm fine, Gloria. Actually I'm in a bit of a hurry. I want to get back to Indiana.”

“How do you feel about the idea of a series?” Gloria completely ignored Chesney’s request to leave. “Readers will adore the characters in this book,” Gloria said as she scanned the draft. “You’re absolutely brilliant, darling. I can’t tell you how surprised I was when this manuscript was finished! I suspected that you weren’t writing at all. But now I see the reason for the delay. It’s just wonderful. Each character is so detailed. We’ll be loving the opportunities to...”

“Okay, well, I’ll get moving. John is waiting for me. So, if you’ll excuse me…” Chesney offered Gloria an air kiss and a fake smile and tried to escape, but Gloria motioned for her to remain seated. A vision of herself, passionately kissing Dalton popped into Chesney’s head. Nervously, she crossed and uncrossed her legs trying to avoid the thought.