Rachel Goddard 01 - The Heat of the Moon

he retired?”
    “He called me last week, actually. He wanted to know how you were working out.”
    Luke laughed. “I hope you gave me a good report.”
    “Glowing.”
    “Right answer.”
    This time we both laughed. Then we fell silent, and the silence stretched out long enough to be uncomfortable. I didn’t want to keep up the chat, though. I wanted to know what was really on his mind.
    “Look,” he said. That disarming awkwardness reappeared, and once he started his words tumbled out in a rush. “This is my clumsy way of trying to get to know you better. Personally, not professionally. Now, if you think this is politically incorrect, or you’re involved with somebody, or you just think I’m a creep and you want me to buzz off, say so now and that’ll be the end of it, no hard feelings.”
    I stared at him. Then I burst out laughing.
    His embarrassment was too naked to miss, but he hid it quickly behind a self-deprecatory grin. “I guess that’s better than a slap in the face.”
    “Oh, God, I’m sorry. It’s not you—” I tried to suppress it, but laughter kept bubbling out. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Outside the window, a young couple in business clothes held hands across a sidewalk table.
    “Don’t tell me you had no idea I was interested,” Luke said.
    Now I looked at him, and sobered. My relief at what he hadn’t said gave way to astonishment at what he had said. “No. My gosh, no. I never expected—” I shook my head. “Why don’t you try your coffee before it gets cold?”
    He seemed glad to have something to do. He grabbed his cup, took a gulp, and coughed. “Strong,” he choked out.
    I resisted the urge to smile. “It’s loaded with caffeine. You’ll be wired all afternoon if you drink too much.”
    “No danger of that.” He set down the cup and pushed it aside. Then he leaned on his arms, studying me. “So, have I just made a total fool of myself, or is there some remote chance we could get to know each other away from work? I feel like I have to come right out with it like this because of our professional situation. I can’t exactly—” He searched for a word and came up with one I found charmingly old-fashioned. “—court you at the clinic. And the last thing I want to do is pressure you. This doesn’t have any bearing on your job, now or ever.”
    I sipped my coffee, giving myself time to think. His whole body seemed to be straining toward me, and the intensity of his gaze weighed on me like a demand.
    Why me? A useless question. Who could explain the spark between two people? Why not me?
    And why not him? The truth was I’d been fighting a sneaking attraction to him since the day we met. Intellect and skill plus rangy, boyish good looks—an irresistible combination.
    I yanked myself back to reality. Why not him? One very good reason: he was my boss. I was used to casual relationships that were fun for a while and ended with no bothersome consequences. A relationship with my boss could never end cleanly.
    Setting down my cup, I said, “This is flattering, but—”
    When I broke off, he waited a second, then prompted, “But?”
    “It’s not that I don’t—It’s just—It can get messy, seeing somebody you work with. Not that I know firsthand. I just imagine it could be. Don’t you?” Good grief. I was babbling. “I mean, after they break up they still have to work together—”
    He threw up his hands with a laugh. “You haven’t gone out with me yet, and you’re already planning the breakup.”
    “Well—” I shrugged. “You have to look ahead.”
    He leaned toward me again. “I am looking ahead, Rachel.”
    For a moment he did nothing but smile at me, and everything he imagined for us was clear in his eyes. All trace of the awkward boy was gone. I held his gaze. His eyes were deep blue. Heat bloomed inside me and rose to warm my skin. He slid a hand across the small table, next to mine, an inch away. I wanted him to touch me, and was afraid he would.
    I drew back.
    “Let me think about it,” I said, and I heard the huskiness in my voice. I’d think about it, all right. I’d go wild thinking about it.
    He sat back too. “Good enough.”
    He sipped his coffee again, winced, and we both laughed too much.
    A moment passed in silence, then he said, “Will I be pushing my luck if I invite myself over to see your hawk? How’s the wing doing, by the way?”
    “The bird seems to think it’s ready to go.” Did I dare let Luke come to the