Pregnant In Prosperino (2 page)

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 sleep
ing 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.

H
er 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 cou
ple. 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 cere
mony 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 slen
der 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.