Книга - Pregnant In Prosperino

Pregnant In Prosperino
Carla Cassidy


This marriage has strings attached, Chance…Yeah, and it's all based on my, um, performance. When Lana Ramirez came to him with an offer of marriage, Chance Reilly knew it was too good to be true. He needed a wife to claim his rightful inheritance, but what did the sweetly sensual private-duty nurse want from the marriage bed? Little did the rugged rancher guess, the Colton housekeeper's eldest daughter had been hopelessly in love with him forever…and she wanted a baby–his baby. Their torrid nights would no doubt leave her pregnant in Prosperino, but would Chance still be by her side?









JOE COLTON’S JOURNAL


There’s been a strange vibe in the air ever since I got off the phone with my son Rand. He’s on his way home with some shocking news that he has to deliver in person. I wonder what it could be…? Meanwhile, on the home front, Chance Reilly is back in Prosperino. He returned to look in on his terminally ill father, but the old coot died before they had a chance to make amends. After Chance’s mother died when he was a lad, he was left to battle his tyrannical, verbally abusive father alone—except for that rebellious teenage year when he stayed at the Hopechest Ranch and Hacienda de Alegria. Now his old man is making Chance’s life miserable, even from the grave. His airtight last testament decrees that Chance must be married in order to inherit the family ranch and estate. As luck would have it, his father’s private duty nurse, Lana Ramirez, offered to be his temporary wife—on the condition that Chance agree to father her baby! Hmm…could Old Man Reilly have had this ace up his sleeve all along?




About the Author


CARLA CASSIDY

Wealth, power, secrets and dysfunction…the Colton family has it all, and Carla was thrilled to be among the writers who got the opportunity to bring this fascinating family to life.

In Pregnant in Prosperino, she not only got the opportunity to explore elements of evil, but also enjoyed breathing life into two wonderful characters who find the goodness and joy of true love.

Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who lives in the Midwest with her husband, Frank, and their two neurotic dogs.




Pregnant in Prosperino

Carla Cassidy





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)










Meet the Coltons—a California dynasty with a legacy of privilege and power.

Chance Reilly: Rancher desperately seeking…something. A rebellious bad boy in his teens, this rancher now feels empty and rootless. Could the hasty marriage he enters into to save his family ranch be his solution?

Lana Ramirez: Pregnant in Prosperino. Though she’s carrying his baby, this nurse senses that Chance is a footloose, rambling man who’ll soon move on. But if she has her way, the only place this cowboy will be heading is…back into her ever-loving arms!

Joe Colton: The perplexed patriarch. When the police arrive to arrest his wife, Joe is shocked to discover that his real wife, Meredith, was a victim of a malicious plot. Now that Meredith’s impostor twin, Patsy, is behind bars, this reunited couple has some lost years to catch up on.















Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen




One


“Damn you, old man.”

Bitterness ripped through Chance Reilly as he stared at his father’s fresh grave. In life, Tom Reilly had cheated his son out of a happy childhood and a normal adolescence with his bullying and abuse.

And now, in death, Tom had delivered the final blow to any hope Chance might have had of ever making peace with him, or of inheriting the Reilly ranch.

Chance turned and gazed at the house in the distance. Even the shadows of approaching night couldn’t hide the neglect that clung to the place.

The house cried out for a new coat of paint and the weeds were knee-high in places. And that was just the beginning. The barn door hung askew, several railings of the corral were lying on the ground and there was no livestock grazing in the pastures.

Cars lined the drive, letting him know the place was still filled with sympathetic well-wishers and curious neighbors.

He should go back inside and play the role of grieving, dutiful son, but he couldn’t just yet. It was difficult to grieve when anger and bitterness were ripping apart your soul.

His gaze left the house and instead focused on his mother’s headstone next to his father’s final resting place. A lot of help she’d been, dying on him when he’d been eight years old and leaving him alone with “Sarge,” as his father had enjoyed being called.

Sarge—who had run his house like an army barrack, who had never been afraid to use hurtful words and flying fists to emphasize a point.

Emotion expanded in Chance’s chest and he fought against the suffocating tightness. When he’d gotten the word that his father had taken a turn for the worse, he’d left his motel room in Wichita, Kansas, and had caught the first plane he could get to reach Prosperino, California.

However, his father, perverse to the end, passed away mere hours before Chance had arrived back home, making it impossible for father and son to resolve the acrimony that had marked their relationship for years.

The funeral had been two hours before, and Walter Bishop, the family lawyer, had only a brief time before delivered the last of the bad news to Chance.

“Damn you,” he said again. “You were a miserable man who spent your whole life making me miserable.”

“Chance?”

He whirled around at the low, female voice, angry at the intrusion.

He relaxed a bit as he saw Lana Ramirez approach, her long black skirt fluttering around her ankles as the early autumn breeze played with the material.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she reached where he stood on the edge of the old family cemetery.

Although Chance and Lana had seen each other on the day he’d arrived back into town, that moment had been brief and Chance had immediately had to deal with funeral arrangements for his father.

“Sure, I’m fine.” He willed away any lingering emotion that had momentarily gripped him. There was no way he’d show anyone the feelings that had possessed him since coming back to this ranch.

She moved closer, near enough that he caught the scent of her, a wild floral fragrance that stirred old memories. She’d worn that particular perfume years ago, when he’d first met her at the Colton ranch, where Chance had lived for a year when he’d been sixteen and Lana had been thirteen.

Someplace in the back of his mind he registered that she had grown up to be a lovely woman. Her Mexican heritage was evident in the raven-black of her hair and the darkness of her eyes. It was a quiet, understated beauty she didn’t try to emphasize with an abundance of makeup.

Chance once again focused on the mound of dirt before them. “How did you put up with him?” he asked, then looked at her again.

Her full lips curved just a bit into a half smile. “I’m a nurse, Chance. I’m accustomed to dealing with difficult patients.”

“If I know my father, he was worse than difficult.”

She nodded, not denying his words. “Yes, there were days he was worse than difficult, but most of the time he was too ill to be much of a bother to anyone.” She placed a slender hand on his arm. “I heard about the will.”

He looked at her in surprise. He’d only learned about the terms of his father’s will no more than half an hour ago. It was what had driven him out of the house and here, to his father’s side to curse the man who had given him life.

“Walter Bishop might be a fine lawyer, but he sometimes talks too much,” she said, referring to the man who had been one of Tom Reilly’s few friends and the family lawyer. “But don’t worry,” she hurriedly added. “As far as I know, he only talked to me. He assumed I already knew what Tom had done in the will.”

“I didn’t want this place anyway,” Chance said, anger welling up once again as he recognized the partial lie in his own words. “Hell, it would take months of work to repair everything and get it back into good shape.”

He hadn’t wanted to live on the ranch ever again. Too many bad memories resided here. But he’d assumed he’d inherit the ranch, then fix it up and sell it and finally start a business of his own.

Lana dropped her hand from his arm. “But your father’s will doesn’t preclude you from inheriting it.”

“According to the will, I have to be married in order to inherit. Here’s a news flash for you, Lana— I’m not married. I never intend to be married, so it looks like this place will go to charity instead of to me.”

He swept a hand through his hair and drew a deep breath. “What about you? What are you going to do now that my father is gone?”

“I need to pack up some things that are still here, then I’ll go back to my apartment in town and wait for another job.”

Lana had been living on the Reilly ranch for the past six months, ever since Tom suffered the first of a series of strokes. “If you need references, you know I’ll be glad to write you up something,” he said.

She nodded and he noticed a strand of her thick, black hair had escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck. It looked silky soft as it blew across the side of her face. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Go back to the life I’ve been living.” Before this moment, he thought he loved his life.

Selling farm equipment around the country, he traveled most of the time, never calling any one place home. He’d become adept at finding the best food, the nicest rooms in the small towns he traveled to, and never had a problem finding a warm, willing woman for a night’s pleasure.

At the moment he felt nothing but weariness as he thought of going back to that particular lifestyle. “How’s your family?” he asked, stalling the moment he’d have to return to the house and all the memories that resided within those four walls. “It was nice of your parents to come today. Are they still working for the Coltons?”

“Yes, I can’t imagine them doing anything else. Mama and Dad love the Colton family.” A tiny frown appeared in the center of her forehead.

“But…?”

She shook her head as if to dismiss whatever thought had caused the wrinkle to appear. “Maya got married. She married Drake Colton.”

“Really?” The news surprised Chance.

“Yes, and they have a beautiful six-month-old baby girl.”

“So that makes you an aunt,” he said.

“Yes, it does.” She smiled, as if being an aunt pleased her immensely.

The mention of marriage once again stirred his anger. He turned toward the house. “Guess I’d better get back inside.” He took several steps, but paused as she once again placed a hand on his arm.

“Wait,” she said. He turned and faced her expectantly, surprised to see a faint blush of color on her cheeks. “Your father’s will…it just says you have to be married to inherit. It doesn’t say anything about you having to stay married, right?”

“Yeah, so all I need is a temporary wife. You know anyone who might want to apply for the job?” he asked sarcastically.

The pink of her cheeks deepened. “Me.”

Surprise swept through him and he stared at her wordlessly for a long moment. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he finally scoffed and started to walk again.

She quickly fell in beside him, her long legs almost matching his stride. “Why is it ridiculous?” she asked. “This ranch should be yours, Chance. I’ll do it, I’ll be your temporary wife so you can inherit.”

He stopped walking and turned to her once again, utterly bewildered by her offer. “And why would you do something like that? What do you get out of the bargain?”

Maybe she figured to marry him then when he sold the ranch she’d get half the profit, he thought. What other possible reason could she have for suggesting such a crazy scheme?

She drew a deep breath and he was suddenly aware of the press of her shapely breasts against the silk material of her white blouse. “A baby.”

“A baby?” he echoed with shock. “My God, Lana, if that’s what you want, fall in love and get married, have babies and live happily ever after.”

She frowned. “Chance, I’m thirty-one years old. I’m not dating anyone and I have no plans to marry, but I want a child.” She raised her chin as her dark gaze held his and in the depths of her dark eyes he saw her strength. The same strength he’d always found attractive in her in years past.

“Lana—”

“Think about it, Chance,” she continued, her low voice ringing with a surprising boldness. “It would be perfect. We get married. You get your ranch and I get pregnant. Once we both have what we want, we divorce. No strings attached, no messy emotions.”

Chance shook his head, trying to reconcile the woman before him with the shy, sweet young girl who’d been his confidante in one of the most difficult years of his life.

“Lana, I appreciate the offer, but I think working for my father these last few months has made you plumb loco. I can’t marry you.” He didn’t intend to marry anyone. Again anger tore at him—anger at his father, who was, even from the grave, attempting to pull strings to control his life.

“It’s a crazy idea and this is the end of this discussion.” Without waiting for her reply, he stalked toward the house and the waiting guests.



She was crazy, she must be crazy to have even suggested such an idea. Lana’s cheeks burned hot with humiliation as she followed Chance toward the house.

What had she been thinking? What had possibly possessed her to suggest such a thing? Chance disappeared into the front door of the house, but Lana stopped on the porch, not wanting to return to the crowd inside until she was completely composed and the warmth of her embarrassment wasn’t shining on her cheeks.

She sank down into one of the two wicker rockers. She knew what she’d been thinking when she’d made the offer. She’d been thinking of the sweet baby scent of her niece, of the cuddly warmth of her in Lana’s arms. Since the time of Marissa’s birth, Lana had been filled with a yearning for her own baby.

Being over thirty and with no man in her life, she had heard the faint ticking of her biological clock more than once on a lonely night.

Before she’d heard about the terms of Tom Reilly’s will, she’d been thinking about artificial insemination. Becoming a single parent didn’t frighten her. In the best of worlds, she would have met and married a man who loved her and whom she loved, but in the real world, there was no hint of any prospective husband on the horizon.

The moment she’d heard about Chance’s problem, she’d gotten the idea of a temporary marriage with him. She wanted desperately to be a mother, and who better to be the father than a man like Chance, a man who would never settle down, never demand an active role in the baby’s life. Chance would be a perfect sperm donor.

She tried not to think about how many nights in her youth she had dreamed about Chance Reilly, how many hours of those youthful days she’d wasted fantasizing about the handsome brown-haired young man whose green eyes had burned with the fierce intensity of tumultuous emotions.

Silly dreams and ridiculous fantasies, she now thought. She’d long ago outgrown the crush she’d once had on Chance Reilly. Chance was every teenage girl’s heartthrob but he was not the material for everlasting love.

She stood, knowing she needed to get back inside. Before she’d left the house to seek out Chance, she’d been serving as an unofficial hostess. And if she knew her mother, Inez Ramirez would be in the kitchen, washing up after everyone and replenishing the food on the dining room table.

Shoving aside her conversation with Chance, she went back inside the house. Chance stood near the dining room table, talking with several of the other ranchers in the area who had shown up to pay their respects.

There was no denying that time had only increased the man’s attractiveness. His brown hair was now sun-streaked with gleaming blond strands, the variegated color only appearing to deepen the hazel green of his eyes. Time had only seemed to better define the lines of his square face, his strong nose and full lips. The shoulders that had seemed broad before now seemed impossibly so.

She consciously tore her gaze from him and headed for the kitchen. Sure enough, her mother was there, standing at the sink with her arms half-buried in soap suds.

“Mama, you don’t have to do this,” Lana protested.

Inez flashed her daughter a warm smile. “I don’t mind. Chance has nobody else to help out.”

Lana picked up a dish towel and took a plate from her mother to dry. For a moment, the two women worked in a companionable silence.

Lana fought the impulse to tell her mother what she’d just offered Chance. She knew instinctively that her mother would never understand. Lana’s parents had married for love, and that love had not weakened through the years, but had rather strengthened. Inez would never understand her daughter settling for less than true love.

“And so your work here is done,” Inez said as she finished the last of the dishes.

Lana nodded. “I’ll pack up my things and move back to my apartment this evening.” The sooner the better, she thought to herself. She wasn’t particularly eager to face Chance again. Funny, but she wasn’t particularly eager to move back to her silent, empty apartment, either.

Within thirty minutes her parents had left and Lana excused herself from the remaining crowd to go to the room she had called home for the past six months.

It was a small room right next door to the master bedroom. It had been Jim Hastings, one of the local doctors, who had set up the arrangement for a home nurse for Tom Reilly.

Despite the fact that a series of strokes had left him partially paralyzed, Tom refused to be hospitalized, and also refused to call his only son home to take care of him.

She lost track of time as she folded clothes and carefully placed them in her suitcase. No matter how difficult the patient, there was always an edge of sadness inside her when one finally succumbed to death.

When she had all her clothes packed, she remembered she’d left a book she’d been reading in Tom’s bedroom where she’d spent long hours sitting by his bedside.

As she walked down the short hallway between the small bedroom and the master, she realized the house had grown silent and night had fallen completely.

A small lamp burned on the table next to the bed. No ghost of Tom Reilly haunted the room. Tom had been hospitalized the day before his death. Lana had remained here, hoping he would rally and be returned to his home, but it had not been so.

She grabbed the book from the stand and stood for a moment, staring at the bed as she said a silent prayer for Tom Reilly’s soul. He had not been a pleasant man and she had a feeling he could use all the prayers that were offered on his behalf.

“I’ll bet he’s barking orders in hell right about now.”

Lana jumped in surprise and whirled toward the window, where she spied Chance sitting in the shadows of the room. “You scared me half to death,” she exclaimed and clapped the paperback book over her breast to still her thudding heart.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I just came in for my book,” she explained. “I’m all packed, so I guess I’ll just say goodbye.” She turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway as he softly called her name.

“Have a cup of coffee with me.” He stood and approached her, stopping just before he got close enough to invade her personal space.

In the dimness of the room, his features looked stark, taut with tension. “Everyone else has gone home and now the house seems so quiet…” His voice trailed off.

“I’d like a cup of coffee before I leave,” she said softly. Although Chance had always professed to hate his father, Lana remembered a time when all Chance had wanted was a kind touch, a word of encouragement and a simple acknowledgment of affection from the man.

There must be a small part of him that was grieving, and Lana couldn’t walk away despite the fact that she still was embarrassed by her earlier outburst.

She turned and left the room, conscious of him just behind her as they walked down the hall toward the living room and kitchen.

When she’d first moved in here, she’d been struck by how plain, how austere the place was. Each room held the utilitarian furniture necessary, but little else. There were no floral arrangements, no little knickknacks, no pictures or personal items to make the house feel like a home.

In the kitchen, she sat at the table and watched as Chance made coffee. At some point during the evening, he’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing tanned, muscled forearms.

She searched for something to say to break the silence, but her usual shyness rose up to hinder any efforts she might make toward conversation.

He didn’t speak until he placed a cup of coffee before her. “Cream or sugar?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, this is fine.”

He poured himself a cup, then joined her at the table. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for all you did for Sarge,” he said.

She shrugged. “I was just doing my job.” She cleared her throat, desperately wanting to fill the silence that once again fell between them. “I understand you travel a lot with your job.”

He nodded, the overhead kitchen light gleaming on the sun-kissed strands of his hair. “I’m usually on the road six days of the week.”

He leaned back in his chair, for the first time since arriving home he looked relaxed. “I love it. No ties, no binds, new places and new faces all the time. I spent the first twenty years of my life trying to please Sarge, now I please nobody but myself.”

Although he appeared to be relaxed, Lana felt the tension that rolled from him, saw the sparks of anger that still torched the depths of his eyes.

“Then I guess you don’t care that this place will all go to charity,” she said.

He sat back up, his gaze burning into hers. “Yes, I care.” He pushed away from the table and stood, then drew a deep breath and raked a hand through his collar-length hair as if to steady himself.

“Even though the last thing I ever want to do is ranch, and despite the fact that this place holds only terrible memories, I wanted it.” His voice was low, deep with barely suppressed emotion. “I wanted to sell this place and take the money and start my own business. He owed me this, Lana. Damn him, he owed me this.”

She heard the pain beneath the anger, and her heart ached for him. “Then take it,” she said with the bravado that was uncharacteristic. “Marry me and claim the ranch. Fix it up and sell it. Give me a baby, then ride off into the sunset with everyone happy.”

He sat down once again and eyed her incredulously. “You’re serious about this.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” she said truthfully. From the instant she’d heard about Chance’s dilemma with his father’s will, she’d felt as if a bargain between them was predestined.

“But you understand if you want a baby, that means we’d have to—we would be…” He allowed his voice to trail off.

“Chance, I know how babies are made,” she said as a surge of heat suffused her cheeks.

“And that doesn’t bother you—the idea of, uh, sleeping with me?”

“Of course not,” she replied briskly, not quite meeting his gaze.

“Lana, I respect your parents. It wouldn’t be right to them.”

She offered him a small smile. “I’m not asking you to sleep with them.” Her smile fell away, and she eyed him levelly. “My parents will respect my choice, my decision.”

He sighed and frowned thoughtfully. “I could pay you. If we decide to do this, I could give you some of the money from the sale of this place.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want your money.” She forced herself to look at him once again. “That wouldn’t feel right. Besides, I don’t need your money. All I want is a child. You give me a baby and I’ll consider us even.”

His forehead wrinkled with thought. “It would take a lot of work to get this place ready to put on the market.” His frown deepened. “I’d want to fix it up to get top market value. According to Walt Bishop, I’ve got five days to fulfill the terms of the will. That means we’d have to get married within the next five days.”

A shiver of apprehension swept through Lana as she realized he was actually considering her proposal. “All we need is a license and a justice of the peace,” she replied.

“Okay,” he said. “You need a baby and I need a temporary wife. How about we tie the knot in two days?”

Again a tinge of anxiety whispered through her. Was this what she wanted? She thought of baby Marissa cooing to her, tiny fingers grasping around hers, and her heart constricted with deep yearning.

If she waited for nature to take its course, waited for love to find her and a traditional wedding to occur, she might wait forever.

“Two days sound fine,” she said, shoving any lingering doubts to the farthest reaches of her mind.

They agreed to meet for the marriage license first thing in the morning, and moments later Lana was on her way back to her apartment.

As she drove through the September night from the Reilly ranch to her place, her head spun with what she’d just agreed to do. In two days’ time she was going to become Mrs. Chance Reilly.

“And that doesn’t bother you—the idea of sleeping with me?”

Chance’s words played again in her head. She tightened her hands on the steering wheel.

Bother her? Yes, it bothered her. The idea of sleeping with Chance quickened her heartbeat, weakened her knees and filled her with a fiery heat. How many women got the opportunity, as adults, to fulfill what had been a forbidden adolescent fantasy?

But it wasn’t quite her fantasy, she thought. In her youthful fantasy she and Chance had been desperately in love. They had tied the knot of love that would make them a forever kind of couple. That had been her fantasy at one time in her life. But what they had just discussed had nothing to do with fantasy. What they had just agreed to had absolutely nothing to do with forever.




Two


Her wedding day.

Lana stood next to Chance and tightly clasped the small bouquet Chance had surprised her with when he’d arrived at her apartment. She felt both hot and cold at the same time, and knew it was nerves that made her feel vaguely ill.

Was she doing the right thing? She was agreeing to a loveless marriage for the sake of making a baby. Yet, as she thought of her baby niece and imagined a baby of her own, she shoved all doubts from her mind.

She swallowed hard as the justice of the peace cleared his throat and began the ceremony that would make Chance and Lana man and wife.

No traditional wedding gown and tux for this couple. Lana wore a pale pink dress and Chance wore a brown suit that emphasized the golden streaks in his hair and the deep green of his eyes.

They had invited no family members to see their exchange of vows. Both of them understood their wedding was not a cause for celebration, but rather a bargain made between two consenting adults. A business deal of sorts.

“Are you sure about this?” Chance asked beneath his breath as the justice of the peace spoke of commitment and the bonds of matrimony. She hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

One corner of Chance’s mouth turned up and for just a moment his eyes sparkled with amusement. “And you promise me your daddy is not going to come after me with a shotgun when this is all over?”

Grateful for his smile, she quickly returned it and felt an easing of the tension between them. “I promise,” she replied.

She had spent the most difficult hour of her life the day before with her mother and father, telling them she was marrying Chance in order to help him gain his inheritance. She didn’t tell them what she intended to get out of the arrangement. She felt a little guilty in that she suspected her parents assumed this would be a marriage in name only for the sole purpose of helping Chance.

Even knowing this marriage was hardly a marriage at all, Lana couldn’t help the way her heart thundered as the justice of the peace spoke the words that bound her, at least temporarily, to Chance.

Practically in the blink of an eye, the brief ceremony was over and Chance was instructed to kiss his bride. Again Lana’s heart bumped against her ribs as it beat too fast, too hard.

He bent his head and she closed her eyes. His lips barely brushed against hers, a brief dance of warmth there only a second, then gone.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured.

Lana chided herself for her momentary disappointment. What had she expected? That he’d wrap his arms around her, gaze deeply into her eyes, then kiss her with a passion that would steal her breath away? Not in this lifetime, she chided herself, and certainly not in this marriage.

“We need to get over to Walter Bishop’s office and give him a copy of the marriage certificate,” Chance said the moment they left.

They got into Chance’s sports car and headed for the lawyer’s office. Lana tried to think of something, anything, to say, but Chance’s silence and his stony expression deterred her.

She hadn’t asked him about girlfriends. Was it possible he had a special somebody back in Wichita? He’d said he never intended to get married, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a significant other.

She frowned. If he did have somebody special in his life, why wasn’t she sitting in this car with him now? She suddenly realized she knew little about the man she had just married.

She’d known him as an angry, troubled sixteen-year-old who had been sent to the Coltons for a year of foster care in an effort to cool down the heat between him and his father. But Lana didn’t really know what kind of man Chance had become in the intervening years.

“This will just take a minute,” Chance said as he pulled up to the curb before Bishop’s law office. “You want to come in or wait here?”

“I’ll wait here,” she said, then hurriedly added, “unless you’d like me to come in.”

He frowned. “I’ll be right back.” He got out of the car and disappeared into the building without a backward glance.

Lana stared down at the bouquet in her lap and tried to still the nerves that still jangled inside her. She’d performed her end of the bargain and she assumed that later tonight Chance would do his part to fulfill his end of their pact.

Tonight she was going to make love with Chance. Tonight she was going to make love for the very first time in her life. Again a cold wave swept through her at the same time a flush of heat rose inside. She had never been so nervous in her entire life.

Think about the end result, she told herself. Don’t be nervous, just concentrate on the fact that nine months from tonight you might be holding a beautiful baby of your own. Her heart swelled at the thought.

Lana had always wanted children, but since her niece’s birth her want had grown into something much bigger. She was a nurturer at heart, and longed to nurture her own child.

She jumped as Chance opened his car door and slid back behind the wheel. “Everything all right?” she asked.

“Fine. Walter says it will take several weeks for everything to be signed, sealed and delivered. In the meantime, I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me at the ranch.”

It was just after two in the afternoon when they pulled into the Reilly ranch. Immediately Chance disappeared down the hall and into the bedroom, and Lana stood uncertainly in the kitchen, wondering what would happen next.

Would he want to make love right away? With the midday sun shining through the windows? Her cheeks burned at the very thought. She’d certainly prefer the darkness of night for her first foray into the act of lovemaking.

She whirled around as he came back into the kitchen, surprised to see that he had changed out of his suit and into a pair of worn jeans and a black T-shirt.

“I’m going to do a little work out in the barn,” he said, his gaze not quite meeting hers. “I’ll be back in later.” Before the words had completely left his mouth he was gone, disappearing out the back door.

Lana remained standing in the center of the kitchen for a long moment. She knew it was ridiculous to feel neglected, to feel cast aside and unloved.

She was unloved, at least as far as Chance Reilly was concerned. She was a necessity in his life at the moment and it was stupid to get her feelings hurt just because he’d hightailed it out of the house to work in the barn on their wedding day.

She went into the bedroom—the master bedroom where she would be spending the night with Chance. She’d spent the day before bringing more of her things over from her apartment, and Chance had spent part of the day transforming the room from Sarge’s to his own.

A new multicolored bedspread covered crisp new sheets. The spread was a splash of color in an otherwise colorless room, but she knew it was Chance’s need to brand the room with something of his own.

The top of the dresser held an array of items—several bottles of cologne, small change and a pack of matches from a café in Topeka, Kansas, with a phone number written in pencil across the front.

Lana was certain it was a woman’s number. Chance probably had a woman waiting for him in every city when he traveled. And why wouldn’t he? He was handsome and incredibly sexy and had just enough bad-boy aura about him to make him wonderfully intriguing. Women would be drawn to him like bees to honey.

She took off her dress and exchanged it for a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved, rose-colored blouse at the same time wondering how long Chance would remain outside. Would he work all afternoon, or come back inside in an hour or two?

Carrying her wedding bouquet back into the kitchen, she contemplated how to spend the afternoon. She was now a wife, and the least she could do was make a nice meal for her husband.

She was eager for any activity that would take her mind away from the night to come, a night that could be beautiful beyond her wildest dreams…or confirm to her that she’d made the biggest mistake in her life.



Chance banged another nail into the barn door, using more force than was necessary to drive it into the slightly rotten wood.

He didn’t know what to do with his anger. It had been a living, breathing force inside him since he’d arrived back here and found his father had passed away. It had built to mammoth proportions when he’d heard about the terms of the will, threatening to consume him entirely.

He paused in his task and sat on a nearby bale of musty-smelling hay. The barn was a wreck, filled with cast-off machinery and rotting hay and feed. The corral outside was falling down. Fences needed mending, boards needed replacing. The entire place showed more than one year of neglect.

“And now it’s mine,” he said aloud and felt a momentary surge of triumph. He’d beaten Sarge. Despite his father’s efforts, he’d succeeded in inheriting the place that he’d always told himself he hated.

And now what he felt more than anything was guilt as he thought of the woman who had agreed to be his “bride.” The passing years had been good to Lana. She had only grown more lovely than he remembered. She deserved more than a temporary husband and single parenthood.

He plucked a piece of hay from the bale and worried it between his fingers, his mind racing back in time, remembering the thirteen-year-old Lana who had befriended the troubled, raging sixteen-year-old he had been.

Even then, at that young age, Lana had emitted a quiet strength, a sweet nature and a sympathetic ear that had drawn him to her despite their three-year age difference. For the year of their friendship, Chance had found a soothing of his anger, a calming of his pain.

In the years since, he’d always entertained a fond gratitude for the young girl who had been his confidante and support for that year of his life.

And how had he repaid her? By agreeing to her crazy idea. She’d fulfilled her end of the bargain and tonight he must fulfill his.

For the first time in his life, something he enjoyed doing, something he’d been told he was quite good at, suddenly seemed daunting. Tonight he had to make love to Lana.

He tossed the broken piece of hay aside and stood once again. Grabbing another handful of nails, he began hammering, at the same time his mind whirled with thoughts of the night to come.

No safe sex tonight. Pregnancy was the desired aftermath. In all his adult life, in all his physical relationships, he’d always been extremely careful to make sure there was not a baby as a result of a night of passion.

Chance had absolutely no desire to be a father. The very idea filled him with anxiety. What he’d learned from his own father’s parenting he never wanted to pass on to anyone else.

But Lana didn’t want a father for her baby, he reminded himself. All she wanted was a sperm donor. He was surprised to realize the whole idea of sleeping with Lana made him nervous.

What if he couldn’t fulfill his end of their bargain? What if he couldn’t perform? He shoved this thought away, knowing if he dwelled on it, he would certainly have a problem when the time came.

Dusk was falling when he made his way back to the house. As he walked into the back door, the mouth-watering scent of roast beef greeted him.

Lana was not in the kitchen, but the table was set for two. He grunted in surprise as he saw that someplace she had dug up a bright yellow tablecloth, and in the center of the table her simple wedding bouquet had been transformed into a sweet-smelling table centerpiece.

A woman’s touch.

A sudden memory flitted through his mind, a distant memory of a blond-haired woman arranging flowers in the center of the table, of her laughter that was bright as sunshine as the scent of rich chocolate chip cookies wafted from the oven.

The memory of his mother stabbed through him. When she’d died, she’d taken all the softness, all the nurturing, all the woman’s touches from this house and from his life.

Lana’s efforts found the hidden place of neglect in his soul and stirred something warm. He turned as she came into the kitchen.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said.

He nodded, suddenly feeling guilty for running out on her, escaping to do work the moment they’d returned home. He gestured toward the table. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”

Her forehead wrinkled worriedly. “I hope you don’t mind. I found the tablecloth in a drawer and thought it would be nice.”

“It is nice,” he assured her and was rewarded by a slight blush of pleasure coloring her cheeks.

“I made supper. It’s ready whenever you are.” He could tell she was nervous by the way her gaze refused to meet his and the slight catch in her breath as she spoke.

“I need to shower, then I’ll be ready to eat.” He smiled at her in an attempt to diffuse some of the tension. “I’ll be out in about fifteen minutes or so.”

He left her standing in the kitchen. A moment later he stood beneath the hot spray of water in the shower, trying not to think of the nighttime to come.

Instead he focused on all the work that would have to be done on the ranch in order to get it ready for sale. It was an awesome task, but the reward would be awesome as well. His father had owed no mortgage, so the land and the house were free and clear of debt.

He could afford to hire several men to help him get the place in shape. He’d go into town tomorrow and see about hiring help. With several ranch hands, the work would go quickly and he could have the place on the market in no time.

Finishing his shower, he then towel dried and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a button-down sports shirt. When he entered the kitchen the homey scene before him again struck him.

Lana, apparently unaware of him standing in the doorway, was at the oven. For a moment he stood silent, merely admiring her backside. She’d been slender as a young girl, and she had retained that long-legged, coltish slenderness.

Despite her slenderness, there was no mistaking the gentle curve of her hips, the shapeliness of her buttocks in the tight jeans.

Her dark hair was as he’d always seen it, tucked into a neat bun at the nape of her neck, a single errant strand loose and without restraint. He wondered what it would look like completely freed and flowing down her back. He wondered what it would feel like cascading against his fingertips.

She turned at that moment, a bowl of steaming mashed potatoes in her hands. She jumped in surprise and juggled the bowl precariously before finally settling it on the edge of the table. “You scared me,” she exclaimed.

“Sorry,” he replied. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Domesticity wasn’t exactly his style, but he felt a sudden desire to do something with her, some tiny act that might break the thickness of the air between them.

“There’s a salad in the fridge. If you want to get that on the table, I’ll get the roast and gravy,” she said.

Within minutes they were seated across from each other, eating the best meal Chance could ever remember enjoying. Still, the air was thick, the tension palpable as the shadows outside the kitchen window deepened, portending the coming of night.

He should have taken her right to the bedroom the moment the ceremony was over earlier in the day. Then, the act would be over, the ice would be broken and they wouldn’t be suffering the taut tension that was like a third guest at the table.

Dinner consisted of strained small talk, and Chance was almost grateful when the meal was over and the dishes had been washed and put away.

Chance went outside to make sure everything was locked up and secure for the night, then returned to the house, where Lana sat on the edge of the sofa looking as if she wanted nothing more than to bolt.

Enough was enough, he thought. “I’m going to bed,” he said, and watched as her dark eyes flared slightly. “You can join me whenever you’re ready.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “Unless you want to call this whole thing off.”

Her eyes snapped brightly and she jumped to her feet. “Not on your life, Chance Reilly,” she said with a burst of unexpected spirit. “I did my part. I’m not about to run before you do yours.” With these words, she stalked past him and disappeared into the bathroom.

Chance stared after her. For a moment, just a brief moment, he thought he saw not dread or anxiety in her eyes, but rather excitement and anticipation.

A stir of excitement sang through him in response, the excitement of taking a new lover, the anticipatory thrill of discovery.

He turned out all the lights in the living room and went into the bedroom where the faint bedside lamp spilled a whisper of golden light through the room. Undressing, he tried not to think about the young, sweet girl Lana had been and instead focused on the fact that she was an attractive thirty-one-year-old woman.

Naked, he slid in beneath the crisp cotton sheets and waited. Staring up at the ceiling, he concentrated on what he would do with the money from the sale of the ranch. First and foremost, he wanted to start his own business. He wasn’t sure exactly what kind of business it would be, but the important thing would be he’d enjoy being his own boss.

He’d get a condo, something low-maintenance but nice. And then there was a Harley he’d been contemplating. It was a sleek, chrome machine he could easily imagine riding on his days off.

A noise at the doorway diverted his attention from the ceiling, and when he saw Lana standing there, all thoughts of condos and motorcycles fled his mind.

Clad in a white nightgown that clung to her breasts, then fell in a soft cascade to her bare feet, she looked like a vision from a dream. A very good dream.

Her glorious hair was loose and fell below her shoulders like a cloak of black silk, and Chance’s fingers itched with the need to tangle themselves in it.

She said nothing as she moved to the side of the bed and slid in beneath the covers. She lay flat on her back, barely taking up any space on the large mattress.

Chance raised himself up on one elbow and smiled. “This is very awkward, isn’t it?”

His words seemed to chisel away some of the tension. She smiled. “Horribly awkward,” she agreed.

“We can take this very slow,” he said. He reached out and lightly touched her cheek. Her skin was softer than he’d imagined and a spark of desire began to glow deep inside him.

“Slow. I’d like that.” Her voice was a bare whisper as his fingers moved from her cheek and instead trailed down the curve of her jaw.

He’d worried that he wouldn’t feel the necessary desire to fulfill his end of the bargain, but as his fingers touched the silk of her hair, and her breathing quickened slightly, he knew there would be no problem where desire was concerned.

He bent and touched his lips to hers and her instantaneous response delighted him. He’d been afraid that Lana would be overly shy and self-conscious as a lover, but her kiss was filled with sweet heat that further fed the spark inside him.

He deepened the kiss with his tongue and she responded, opening her mouth to him as her arms reached up to clasp him around the neck.

Moving his body closer to hers, he was enveloped by the evocative scent of her perfume and could feel her body heat radiating outward as if to warm him.

His mouth left hers and traveled the path his fingers had trailed earlier…down her jawline, then lingering in the vulnerable flesh just beneath her ear where a pulse beat rapidly. Her arms tightened in response to his nipping, teasing kisses.

His fingers toyed with the ribbon between her breasts, but he carefully kept away from a more intimate touch, knowing it was too soon. Instead he claimed her mouth once again, enjoying the way she tasted and the way her tongue thrust and parried with his own.

All too quickly, mere kissing wasn’t enough. Chance wanted, needed to touch her, feel her warm skin against his, cup her bare breasts in his hands.

He stroked his hands down the length of her sides. He could tell she was ready for him to take them into the next dimension. Her breathing had grown more rapid and occasionally a tiny moan issued from her lips.

“Lana,” he whispered softly. “I want to take your gown off.”

In the pale illumination of the room, she gazed at him, and he saw her desire in the dark depths of her eyes. “Shut off the light,” she replied breathlessly.

He hesitated. He didn’t want the light off. He wanted to see the beautiful skin he was eager to caress. He wanted to see her breasts, the flat of her stomach, the curve of her hips and the length of her legs.

“Please, Chance,” she said as if recognizing his hesitation. “We can keep the light on next time.”

He acquiesced to her wishes with the promise of another time ringing in his ears. Turning out the light, he heard the whisper of silk leaving flesh and when he reached for her again, she was warm and naked in his arms.

Any further conscious thought was impossible as his hands stroked her heated flesh and she returned his touch, caress for caress. Their mouths found each other’s as they explored one another’s bodies, finding the magical, secret places that evoked sighs or sweet shudders of pleasure.

All too quickly, Chance was ready to possess her completely. She arched beneath him and a deep, throaty moan escaped her as he moved between her thighs.

He moved partially into her and encountered resistance. He pressed deeper, harder, and instantly her fingernails bit into the flesh of his back. He froze, recognizing suddenly what the resistance had been.

“Lana.” Her name was both a protest and a plea. He started to pull away, shock riveting through him as he realized what he’d done, realized she’d been a virgin.

“No, Chance. It’s all right. Don’t stop now. Please don’t stop.” The fingers that had bitten into him now pulled him closer.

Heaven help him, he didn’t want to stop. She surrounded him, warm and tight and achingly pleasurable. Still, he remained inert, afraid of hurting her any more than he just had.

“Please don’t stop,” she repeated, the words a warm breath in his neck and followed by the press of her lips against his skin.

He moved tentatively, gently against her, awed by the gift she’d just given him and at the same time angry that she hadn’t told him beforehand.

Had he known she’d never been with a man before, he would have never agreed to this whole scheme. Now it was too late. In a single moment he’d transformed her, changed her forever, and she would never again be the same woman she’d been before climbing into his bed.

Had he known she had never made love before, he would have taken more time, enjoyed introducing her to sensations that would be new and exciting.

But it was too late now. Buried deep within her, he couldn’t staunch the storm of passion that coursed through him. Like a tidal wave, he was helpless in the wake of it as he felt himself building to a summit. Then he was over the summit and crashing down as he hoarsely cried out her name.

Moments later, he lay on his back, trying to catch his breath and wondering how on earth a woman who had never made love before had managed to get him to such a fever pitch.

He heard the slide of silk fabric and realized she had grabbed her nightgown and was once again pulling it on. “Lana, why didn’t you tell me?” he asked with a touch of censure in his voice. “I would have never agreed to any of this had I known.”

“That’s why I didn’t tell you. I’m tired, Chance. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” The mattress shook with her movements and he sensed she’d turned her back to him.

A momentary urge to reach out and touch her, to pull her into his arms and hold her swept through him. It surprised him, the need to gather her against him and feel her heartbeat against his own.

But he dismissed the impulse. It was obvious she wasn’t interested in sharing any afterglow with him. She was finished with him now that the deed had been done.

As he stared up at the dark ceiling, he reminded himself that she was nothing to him but a means to an end. And it was apparent that he was the same to her. That was just fine with him. The last thing he wanted was any sort of emotional tie to this woman or this place.

In three to five months time, he’d be out of here and this time when he left Prosperino, he didn’t intend to ever look back.



A dream awakened Emily Blair Colton. She sat straight up in bed, heart pounding with the residual terror of the dream. No, not a dream, a nightmare.

She stared around the room, looking for something familiar, safe. Bright moonlight streamed into the bedroom window, painting the room in silvery shades.

A deep, abiding sadness stole away the terror as reality sank in. She wasn’t home. She wasn’t safe and sound at the ranch in Prosperino, California, with her loving adoptive parents, Meredith and Joe Colton.

She was in the small town of Red River, Montana, hiding out because somebody was trying to kill her. Chilled, and with the memory of the dream further haunting her, she got out of bed, grabbed her robe and left the bedroom.

She turned on the table lamp, pulled her robe on, then sank down on the sofa, her mind in a jumble of thoughts just as it had been for the last year, since leaving home and running for her life.

Raking a trembling hand through her hair, she thought of the dream she’d just had. It was a familiar vision that haunted her more and more frequently.

It always began the same. She and her mother, Meredith, were in the car. In the dream, Emily was no longer twenty, but rather eleven years old and filled with the joy and security of Meredith’s love, love that in a screech of twisting metal and the tinkling of shattered glass had evaporated.

It was never the car accident in the dream that frightened Emily, rather it was always what happened after the wreck that ripped terror through her soul.

Dazed by a head wound, bleeding and frightened, Emily had opened her eyes to see two identical mommies. They had the exact same hair, the exact same features, but one was Emily’s loving, beautiful mother and the other was a mother with hard, gleaming eyes and a wicked, hateful smile. And in the blink of an eye, the good mommy was gone, replaced by the bad mommy.

It had only been in the past year that Emily had begun to realize that the visions that tormented her in her dreams were not really dreams, but rather memories of the events that had occurred on that fateful day of the accident.

And now, almost ten years after the day of that accident, Emily knew the truth. Meredith’s wicked, evil twin sister, Patsy, had usurped not only Meredith’s identity, but her home and her family as well.

Grief ripped through Emily as she thought of the years lost, of the family that had disintegrated beneath the dramatic changes in “Meredith.”

But now Emily knew the truth, the whole truth. The Meredith she’d lost on the day of the accident was in Jackson, Mississippi, trying desperately to regain the memory she’d lost that day.

Once Dr. Wilkes helped the real Meredith cope with the trauma she’d suffered, she would return home and reclaim her life.

Emily left the sofa and went to the window. Staring out into the darkness of the night, she’d never felt quite so alone.

Patsy knew Emily knew the truth and someplace out there was a hired killer whom Patsy had paid to get rid of Emily. He’d nearly succeeded twice before, but Emily had managed to escape.

She shivered, realizing the darkness outside could hide many things, including a killer with a limp and a Fu Manchu mustache and goatee. He could be out there right now, watching, waiting, eagerly plotting the perfect time to make his move on her.

She turned away from the window and shut out the light, then curled up on the sofa, her mind whirling in chaos. She had to do something about Toby. A vision of the handsome young deputy filled her head. When she’d been hiding out in Keyhole, Wyoming, Toby had not only befriended her, he’d fallen in love with her. And how she wished she loved him back…but she didn’t.

The phone call she’d received several nights before replayed in her mind. Wyatt and Annie, friends she’d made while in Keyhole had called to see that she was all right, and it had been Wyatt who had told her that Toby was distraught, upset that she was gone and worried about her well-being. Wyatt had told her that Toby had begged Wyatt to tell him where she was, but Wyatt had respected her wishes and hadn’t told.

She’d disappeared from Keyhole without saying goodbye to the deputy who had cared about her, leaving him with questions and an aching heart. But, what could she do about it now? What should she do about it now?

Closing her eyes, she sent a prayer heavenward. She prayed that Meredith would regain her memory and reclaim her life and that Patsy would be arrested and put behind bars before her hired killer found this place…before he found Emily.




Three


Lana knew she was in bed alone before she opened her eyes. She felt Chance’s absence. It was as if when he’d left the room, he’d taken part of the energy with him.

She opened an eye and reached out to touch the pillow that still held the depression from his head, the heat of his body.

Chance.

She closed her eyes again and thought back over what they had shared the night before.

For just a moment, as Chance had kissed her, as his hands had caressed her and made her body sing, she’d fancied herself just a tiny bit in love with him.

It had been a harmless fantasy, just a game she’d played in her mind to justify the intimacy they’d shared. But now, with the bright early-morning light shining in her eyes, reality stole the fantasy and she knew what they’d done the night before had had nothing to do with love.

In fact, she wondered if Chance was angry with her. Was that what had driven him from bed so early? She left the bed and went into the bathroom.

A moment later as she stood beneath a hot spray of water, she steeled herself for the possibility that she would have to face his ire. She certainly knew he’d been shocked to discover her a virgin. Had he also been angry with her for not telling him ahead of time?

The pain of consummation had surprised her. Even now, she was sore but knew next time would be better. Next time…the thought made a shiver of anticipation race up her spine.

She finished up her shower and dressed for the day, then went into the kitchen where she found a fresh pot of coffee, but no sign of Chance.

Maybe he wasn’t mad at her. Maybe he’d just found the entire experience distasteful. A man like Chance would be used to making love to beautiful women, women who were skilled in the art of lovemaking.

He’d probably been turned off by the fact that she hadn’t known where to touch him, how to kiss him in the ways he was accustomed to being touched and kissed. She had been rather clueless to the whole process of lovemaking.

She sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee and moved to the window. Instantly she spied Chance out by the barn. He was working on the corral fencing and even though it was early and the air was cool, he worked bare-chested, clad only in a pair of faded, worn jeans.

For a moment she enjoyed the opportunity of watching him without him knowing. She could see even from this distance the light sheen of sweat that coated his broad chest.

The morning sun played on the golden highlights of his hair and he looked more like a surfer than a farm equipment salesman. He looked utterly virile, devastatingly sexy and overwhelmingly masculine.

When he’d first arrived at the Colton ranch, sent there to give him and his father a cooling-off period from each other, her mother had warned her to stay away from him.

“That boy is trouble,” Inez had told her thirteen-year-old daughter. “You can see it in his eyes. He’s mad at the entire world and heaven help anyone who gets in his path.”

And for the first couple of days Chance had been at the ranch, Lana had done as her mother had instructed and given Chance a wide berth.

During those first days, Chance had broken the rules, kept himself isolated from the others and wore a chip on his shoulder the size of Los Angeles.

Then slowly, Meredith Colton’s love and Joe Colton’s discipline and affection began to work on him. Some of the rage left his eyes and he broke the rules less and less often. And it was during the next couple of months that he and Lana formed the bonds of friendship.

She’d discovered that beneath the rage was a gentle, caring young man who had a wonderful sense of humor and who longed to belong somewhere.

She watched him now, admiring the breadth of his shoulders, remembering how the muscles of his back had felt beneath her fingertips the night before. The muscles had felt so strong, and yet the skin covering them had been soft and warm.

Turning away from the window, she frowned and tried to shove thoughts of last night out of her mind. Sinking down at the table, she once again thought of the boy Chance had been.

During the year he’d stayed at the Coltons, he and Lana had shared many conversations. Actually, Chance had done most of the talking, sharing with her his thoughts about life, his father and girls. And in those conversations, Lana had developed a tremendous crush for the handsome boy he had been.

But that had been a long time ago, and in the intervening years she and Chance had only seen each other occasionally when he came home for a holiday.

As a young girl she’d fancied herself madly in love with Chance Reilly. And now she was married to him, had spent the night in his arms and felt as if she had no idea what kind of man he’d become.

It didn’t matter what kind of man he’d become, she told herself. After all, this was just a temporary arrangement, a bargain where both got what they wanted, then said goodbye to each other. She’d promised him no binding ties, no messy emotions.

Chance remained outside for most of the day. At noon, Lana took him out a couple of sandwiches and a tall glass of iced tea, which he accepted gratefully. He ate quickly, barely speaking, then immediately went back to work.

Lana returned to the house and spent the rest of the day cleaning the house, moving the rest of her personal items from the spare room into his bedroom and preparing the evening meal.

She liked housework and enjoyed cooking, and the afternoon passed quickly as she busied herself with various chores. By the time Chance walked into the house at six o’clock, she had a hearty beef stew awaiting him and fresh bread just out of the oven.

“Lana, all this isn’t necessary,” he exclaimed as he washed up at the kitchen sink. “I didn’t marry you in order to gain a cook and housekeeper.”

“I enjoy doing it,” she protested. “I’ve always loved to cook, but have been out of practice. It’s no fun to cook just for one.” She motioned him to the table, then moved to the counter to slice the hot bread. As she worked, she was aware of his gaze on her, felt it burning into her back.

She finished slicing the bread, then joined him at the table, knowing it was time to talk about what had happened the night before. “Chance, about last night…”

His eyes, so green, darkened to the color of a storm-swept sea. “You should have told me, Lana. I deserved to know the truth. I would have never agreed to this had you told me.”

“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. Besides, what difference does it make?” She raised her chin with a touch of bravado. “If it hadn’t been you, it would have been somebody else. Sooner or later, it was going to happen.” She passed him the stew bowl.

“Why hasn’t it happened before?” He took the bowl from her and for a moment concentrated on serving himself. When he looked at her again, the storms were gone and his gaze merely radiated a curiosity. “I mean, you’re a very attractive woman. I’m sure lots of men have wanted to date you, to make love to you.”

Her cheeks warmed as she took the bowl back from him and served herself. “I haven’t really dated much. I realized early on that if I wanted to go to college, the only way I’d get there was to get good enough grades to be offered a scholarship. Mom and Dad didn’t have the money to send me to nursing school.”

A small smile curved the corner of Chance’s mouth. “So, you became an egghead.”

She loved that sexy half smile of his. It lit up all his features and sent a warmth into his eyes. “Yes, I guess I became an egghead. I worked hard and studied to get A’s. Then came college and nursing school and there just wasn’t time for dating.”

“But you’ve been out of college for a long time,” he observed.

She shrugged. “I went right to work and there just has never seemed to be enough time to commit to any relationships.”

She couldn’t tell him that part of her problem had been an innate shyness, a shyness that had made dating torturous. She wasn’t good at small talk and wouldn’t know how to flirt if her life depended on it.

It had been easier to concentrate on her work, which had filled her life completely—at least she had believed her life fulfilled—until she’d held little Marissa in her arms.

“Anyway,” she continued, “what’s done is done. We’re here now and I have no regrets about the bargain we made.”

For a few moments they ate in silence, then he gazed at her once again. “You know, single parenthood isn’t exactly a piece of cake. Just ask me. My old man certainly didn’t do a bang-up job.”

“I’ll handle it just fine, and in any case your father probably wouldn’t have been a good parent even if your mother had lived,” she said softly.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded his agreement. “I used to think about that a lot,” he said. “I thought if my mother had been around, she wouldn’t have let him beat me or talk to me like I was a piece of dirt. Then I’d get mad at her for leaving us, even though I knew she’d had no control over her own death.”

“It was easier for you to direct your anger at your mother rather than at your father. You had to deal with your father on a regular basis. Your mother was a safe object for your anger.”

That half grin curved his mouth again. “Hmm, a wife, a good cook and a pop psychologist all rolled into one.”

Lana blushed, wondering if he was censuring her. “I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business.”

He rewarded her with a full smile. “You listened to me cuss enough about it when we were younger. It should be your business.”

She relaxed. “I didn’t mind listening to you. You needed somebody to talk to.”

“And you were so easy to talk to,” he replied.

She said nothing, but she knew the truth. She’d believed herself so crazy in love with him, she’d hung on his every word, delighted in each tiny confession he’d shared with her. It had been easy to be a good listener if it meant spending time with him.

She’d known even then that part of what had made her so easy for him to talk to was that he didn’t consider her a peer. She was nothing more than a sweet kid to him. She was safe, and he could say anything to her, confess anything and not lose face.

He grinned at her again. “Yeah, you were always easy to talk to, and for the most part I always trusted your advice. Until Susan Cahill.”

Lana clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sudden giggle.

Susan Cahill. She’d been a foster child with the Coltons for a brief couple of weeks. Almost eighteen years old and stunningly beautiful, Susan had instantly been pegged by Lana as conceited and vain and utterly silly. But Chance had developed an instant case of lust for the blond-haired, blue-eyed “older” woman.

“I gave you good advice,” she protested as she lowered her hand from her mouth. “How was I to know the girl had a germ fetish?” But she had known. In the single conversation Lana had shared with the girl, Lana had told her of her desire to become a nurse, and Susan had proclaimed that particular career “gross” because nurses were exposed to germs.

“There I was, feeling all sad because Susan barely looked at me, so what do I do?” He raised an eyebrow and eyed her wryly. “I went to the girl I trusted to get advice about women.”

Laughter once again bubbled to Lana’s lips. “And I gave you what advice I had. I figured if you sidled up next to her and told her you didn’t feel so well, she would lay her hand on your forehead, offer to help you feel better.”

“Yeah, and when I told her I didn’t feel so well, she shoved me halfway across the pasture and told me to get the hell away from her.” His laughter joined hers. “I should have known then that you were going to be a nurse. At that tender age you were already thinking of patient care.”

She sobered slightly. “Susan wasn’t right for you anyway.”

The laughter that had rang from him stopped, and his eyes grew stormy once again. “There isn’t a woman in this world right for me,” he said, his voice low and edgy. “I wouldn’t be in the marriage now if it wasn’t a way to beat my father. I don’t want to be married. I like the life I have just fine. I can’t wait to sell this place and get back to it.”

As he focused once again on his food, Lana wondered what had stirred his passionate outburst. Had she threatened him in some way? Did he not trust her to abide by their agreement?

It was as if he was warning her, telling her that she shouldn’t make the mistake of taking their marriage seriously.

He needn’t worry. Although her heart would always maintain a little glow for the boy he had been, she had no illusions where the man and this marriage were concerned.

“Chance, when the time comes for you to walk away, nobody will hold you here.”

He met her gaze once again, then nodded and returned to eating the meal. Any moment of shared laughter and warmth was gone, not even an echo lingering in the tense silence that returned.



Chance threw his sports car into fourth gear and raced down the road that eventually would take him into the town of Prosperino.

There was nothing he hated more than feeling guilty, and at the moment he was feeling damned guilty. Since the moment he and Lana had said “I do” he’d been behaving badly.

When he’d walked into the kitchen that evening, he’d been engulfed by the scents of home cooking, overwhelmed by the tiny little touches Lana had added to make the place seem more homey.

There was a part of him, a part of him that he had never before realized, that was hungry for a real home. A leftover piece from his dysfunctional childhood, he told himself.

When he’d agreed to this insane plot with Lana, he hadn’t really thought it through. He’d been so angry with his father, and so eager to win, he hadn’t considered how difficult it might be to live with a woman, especially this particular woman.

Lana, with her lovely dark eyes and that cascade of black hair. Lana, with her sweet smiles and an easy acceptance of each low and high point offered by life.

As a young girl, she’d been a balm to his spirit, a sympathetic ear that had offered no judgment, no censure no matter what he said.

She’d been pretty then, a shy, slender girl with big black eyes and a mane of hair. Each time he’d returned to Prosperino and had run into her, he’d been struck by how her beauty had only intensified with time.

He’d been pleasantly surprised last night by how passionately, how eagerly she had met his caresses, his kisses. He’d assumed she had experience. He frowned and tightened his fingers around the steering wheel. It had been a shock to realize she’d been a virgin.

He would not make love to her tonight. Even though she’d said nothing, he knew today she must be feeling some residual pain. He hadn’t been particularly gentle until too late. He frowned irritably. What he meant was he would not have sex with her tonight. That was all it was—sex with a purpose.

What worried him most of all was that she seemed to be nesting, creating a home where none had existed in preparation for a baby, a baby he wanted no part of.

He didn’t ever want to be a father. He, more than anyone, knew the needs that little kids had, needs he would never be able to meet because they’d never been met in him.

He shoved away thoughts of Lana and fatherhood as he pulled into a parking space in front of the Prosperino Café. He’d learned a long time ago on one of his few trips home that if he wanted to catch up on the gossip in the area, needed to buy or sell any kind of equipment, or simply wanted a great cup of coffee, the café was the place to come. The café had always been a favorite haunt in his childhood, a place where he had often run to escape from his father.

It was obvious he’d come in the lull between the supper rush and the late evening bunch. There were only three other patrons inside, all sitting in the same booth.

Chance slid onto one of the stools at the counter and eyed the pretty waitress he didn’t know. At another time, in another place, he might have flirted with her. At this moment, in this time, the idea held little appeal.

“What can I get for you?” she asked as she drew a pad from the pocket of her apron.

“Just a cup of coffee. Is Angie still around?”

“Sure, she’s in the back.”

“Would you tell her Chance is here to see her?”

“No problem. I’ll be right back.” She whirled around and disappeared into a doorway that led to the kitchen.

A moment later a robust woman with a headful of gray hair came sweeping out, her face wreathed in a wide grin. “Chance Reilly, you devil.” She faced him across the counter and grabbed his hands in hers. “Let me take a good look at you.”

Chance grinned. “It’s good to see you, Angie.”

“And aren’t you still the most handsome devil I’ve ever seen.”

“Don’t you let Harmon hear you say that, he’ll take a bullwhip to me just for looking at you,” Chance teased.

She laughed. “Harmon is getting so old, all he’d manage to do would be to get himself hopelessly tangled in a whip.” Her smile faded and she eyed him soberly. “You doing okay? I was real sorry to hear about your daddy.”

“Then you’re probably the only person in town sorry to hear about him,” he replied.

Angie and her husband, Harmon had worked in the café for as long as Chance could remember, and over the years the two of them had often consoled Chance when his father had driven him from the ranch.

“And what’s this I hear about you tying the knot with Lana Ramirez?” Angie continued. “That had to have been the fastest courtship in the history of mankind.”

“You know me, Angie. I’ve always been a fast worker.” He and Lana had agreed that they would tell nobody the real terms of their marriage. There was only a handful of people who were privy to the terms of the will and who probably suspected an arranged marriage, but nobody would hear it from Lana or Chance. “Besides, Lana just swept me off my feet.”

Angie released his hands and straightened. “I’m glad you’ve finally settled down, and with a good woman, too. Don’t you go breaking her heart, Chance Reilly. I’m sure you’ve already broken more than your share.”

Chance shifted positions on the stool, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “Angie, have you heard of any good ranch hands looking for work?”

She moved aside as the waitress poured him a cup of coffee and slid it in front of him. Angie frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm, Kirk Brighton was in here the other day looking for work. You going to take over the place and get it back into shape?”

“That’s the plan,” Chance said.

Angie nodded with a satisfied smile. “That’s good. It’s a beautiful spread, but your dad’s heart was never really in it, then he got so sick in the last year, he just let it all go. Besides, you belong on that ranch.”

Chance didn’t tell her that he intended to sell it as soon as possible. As the talk turned to the men in the area, he focused on who might be the best to help him get the ranch into shape.

By the time he left the café, he had the names of five men looking for work, had promised that sometime soon he and Lana would have dinner with Angie and Harmon, and had been gifted a freshly baked, still warm apple pie.

He headed for home, the darkness of night making him think of Lana’s sweet perfume, the silky sensation of her skin against his, the soft sighs she had emitted as he’d touched her here, there.

Heat filled him, the heat of desire, and he consciously tried to will it away. He didn’t want to want Lana. She was a duty to fulfill, a bargain to execute. Nothing more. She would never be anything more.

Still, he had to admit it was nice to pull into a driveway and see the porch light burning, knowing the porch light was on for him. Somebody waiting just for him.

She was on the sofa, watching the television when he walked in, and instantly he felt sorry…sorry for leaving her alone all day long, sorry for taking off for town without even having the courtesy to invite her along. Now, he couldn’t remember what had made him run, what had made him feel as if he needed to escape.

She jumped up off the sofa and faced him. “I was beginning to wonder if you were coming home at all.” The moment the words left her lips, she frowned. “I’m sorry, that sounded rather like a haranguing wife, didn’t it?”





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