Rebecca on Good Intentions

Don’t you just hate it when your intentions and your follow-through fail to match up? When what you meant to achieve just somehow goes….wrong? Like me today for example, I had every intention of writing an absolutely riveting blog….then my hubby got home from a week away, and I…well…I forgot about the blog!

I also hate it when people proclaim their good intentions, tell everyone how they meant well…and yet manage to constantly let other people down. This, I believe, is a reflection of their true intentions. On this point I have to concur with a certain Mr Thanissaro Bikkhu, whose quote I use at the beginning of my new book Good Intentions…

There's an old saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but that's not really the case. The road to hell is paved with intentions that are careless, lustful, or mean. Good intentions -- in proportion to their true goodness -- tend toward heavens of pleasure.

The concept behind this statement fascinated me. ‘Heavens of pleasure’ huh? I like the sound of that! In fact…just to give you an idea of where this kernel of an idea led, I thought I’d include a little excerpt.

“Mmm, my favorite.” The words rolled blissfully across her newly reawakened taste buds. “So, you haven’t told me what you do.”
His chuckle accompanied a mischievous half-smile as he offered his hand again. This time there was less of a businesslike shake and more of an exploratory caress about the way their palms met. “Twain Morgan ... maker of Jarrah Donaldson’s favorite cheeses.”
“Really?” Somehow the words she’d meant to sound like a pleased exclamation came out sounding like an invitation.
“Really,” he affirmed, gorgeous, sandpapery voice washing goose bumps all across her skin. Obviously he’d heard the tone in her words, the tone that said, ‘You’re really rather stunning, and I think you should take me to bed,’ because he responded in kind.
Cool evening air was heavy between them. His eyes roamed over her face and body like a big cat appraising a meal. Wanting to be eaten, but not knowing how to initiate the next move, Jarrah felt adrenaline begin its rushing course. Suddenly she was aware of everything about him, from the size and shape of his body to the rhythm of his breath. She’d never dealt with anyone as overwhelming as Twain before, so just the thought of how they might proceed left her warm and quivering with anticipation.
He didn’t leave her to wonder for long. She smiled when his hand came to cup her neck. His thumb gently rubbed the skin just below the angle of her jaw.
“You really do look like a wood nymph, you know.” His mouth moved closer with each word.
“Is that a good thing?” she asked, trying to keep the mood light, despite the drowning sensation slowing her thoughts.
“Yeah, that’s a very good thing.” His lips whispered across hers.
She lifted her hands to his shoulders, murmured wordless encouragement and felt him respond. He deepened the kiss, angled his lips across hers. Jarrah felt a snap of recognition crack across every nerve in her body. She felt him all the way to her toes. The sensation was one of plunging into a warm bath. Something in the core of her rippled into life, drawn deep and low and in need of him.
The blond curls of his hair were soft beneath her fingers as she held him close. The recesses of his mouth were warm with the lightly fruity flavor of her chardonnay. He groaned, dragging her closer as though she might melt into him and they could be one. The last clinging tendrils of light disappeared from the sky, leaving Jarrah in the dark, but feeling right at home. Her body belonged right here in his arms. Thrilling tingles sang along her taut nerves. She whimpered with the need to be closer, feel nothing between them.
Twain stiffened. She felt the change in him just a moment before he disentangled her fingers from his hair. Removing his hand from where his fist had grasped the waistband of her jeans, he cupped the nape of his own neck and looked everywhere but at her.
“I ... I’d better go.” His words were ragged. Obviously he was as affected as she by what had passed between them, no matter what his distant gaze might otherwise have led her to believe.
“If you like.” She tilted just one corner of her mouth at him, hoping to appear calm and cool in the middle of the heat still flowing like lava in her blood. If he thought she was going to beg for the pleasure of his company, he had another think coming.
“Yeah, I really should.” She barely caught his quiet words. Cicadas, crickets and geckos had begun their nighttime calls. Amid nature’s racket, she watched him turn, slap his thigh and bring Abel to heel. Of all the times for the damned dog to learn manners! In three steps, Twain Morgan disappeared into the black sheet of night that fell just outside the perimeter of her porch.
Shit! Jarrah collected her plate and the wine glasses. Inside she kicked the back door shut and leaned her full weight against it. She flexed her jaw to release some of the tension building there. Who had ever known a straight male to knock back a roll in the hay? What was wrong with her? She never behaved this way, never threw herself at men. Especially not pensive, quiet men she’d only just met. Tapping her foot back against the door, she waited for her pulse to settle and the disappointed tears to clear. Sighing, she eased away from the door to dump the plate and glasses on the bench. A little seduction wouldn’t have hurt her new life. In fact, that had been part of her vows to herself when she’d decided on this new life. No more forcing issues or relationships. No more trying to fit into social norms. In her new life she would take her pleasures where she found them and not fret over tomorrows. She flicked off her kitchen light as she made for the lounge room and her mattress on the floor. From now on, she was making hay while the sun shone. Sprawled across her low and mournfully empty bed, she listened to the night noises of her new home. From somewhere in the darkness, came a deep, sonorous, owl-like cry.
Jarrah knew just how it felt.
What about YOU? Where have your good intentions led? Best answer wins a copy of Good Intentions!