Pregnant In Prosperino (5 page)

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?”

Chance set the pie on the coffee table, then reached for her hands. “No, I'm sorry,” he said and pulled her down to sit next to him on the sofa. “I've been acting like a complete and total ass.” He released her hands, finding them far too soft, far too feminine and warm.

“It's all right. This whole thing is awkward. You're in a position you don't want to be in.”

“No, it's not all right,” he said. “I've been acting like…” He frowned, realizing he'd been acting like his father. The brooding silences, the lack of respect for her, all of it was far too familiar for Chance.

“Like?” Her dark eyes gazed at him curiously.

“Never mind. Let's just say I've been behaving badly and I apologize.”

She smiled, that full, sweet smile that lit her from within. “Apology accepted.” It was that simple with her, no grudge holding, no ill will suppressed. Apology offered and accepted.

“I've got a freshly baked apple pie from Angie at the café. What do you say we have a cup of coffee and a piece of it before turning in for the night?”

“Sounds good.”

Together they went into the kitchen and as Lana made the coffee, Chance cut the pie and slid two still-warm pieces on plates.

“I've got a list of men to call tomorrow about coming to work for me,” he said once they were seated at the table. “There are so many things around here I just can't do by myself.”

“I could help,” she offered. A piece of piecrust clung to her lower lip, and Chance had the overwhelming desire to lean forward and pluck it off with his tongue.

“I don't need your help,” he said, then realized his voice had been more brusque than he intended. He offered a smile to take any sting away. “If you'll just keep up with the work in here, then we'll have this place ready to sell in no time.”

Thankfully, she used her napkin and the teasing crumb disappeared. “You've never considered staying here and ranching? I don't mean staying married to me,” she hurriedly added. “But there was a time when you used to talk about being a rancher.”

“A long time ago.” He stared down at the last of
his pie. “While I was at the Colton ranch, surrounded by their love and support, I somehow got it into my head that everything was going to be all right, that I'd return here and my father would love me and we'd work this place together and the world would be right.” He smiled with a touch of bitterness. “Foolish dreams of a foolish kid.”

“Not foolish,” Lana protested and reached out to cover his hand with hers. “Idealistic, perhaps. But just because you couldn't find any peace with your father here, doesn't mean you can't find peace here now that he's gone.”

He shook his head and pulled his hand from hers. “Too many bad memories between these walls. Besides, I prefer the vagabond life.” He stood and carried his plate and his cup to the sink. “I'm going to turn in.”

She nodded. “I'll be there in just a few minutes.”

He left the kitchen, oddly disturbed by their conversation. Yes, there had been a time when he'd wanted to be a rancher, when he'd dreamed of working his father's spread and sleeping in the same bed night after night.

But this house held nightmare memories for him. Here and there was physical evidence of his father's rages. There was a hole in the Sheetrock in the spare bedroom, where his father had knocked him halfway through the wall. The bathroom door lock was busted, broken when his father had followed him in there to give him the “beating he deserved.”

Sarge had believed in corporal punishment and he'd believed in raising his son to be a man, not a
sissy. The lessons he taught his son were usually painful, both physically and mentally.

No, Chance would never, could never stay here. He'd sell the place, take the money and run back to the life he'd built for himself.

Chance started into the bedroom, then hesitated just inside the door. Lana permeated the room, her scent surrounded him and her presence seemed to fill the room.

Her perfume and lotion bottles now nestled next to his cologne on the top of the dresser. A doily sat beneath the bedside lamp, adding a feminine touch to the room.

A fat candle was on her bedside stand, its vanilla scent faint yet quite appealing. For just a moment he envisioned the candle lit and Lana naked in the bed with him.

The candlelight would add gold tones to her skin. It would lightly caress her pretty features and pull a rich shine from her long, dark hair.

Her skin would be warm against him, her mouth hot and eager as it had been the night before.

He undressed and slid beneath the covers, wondering how in the hell he was going to spend the night smelling her, feeling her warmth, and not give in to the overwhelming desire to make love to her again.

“C
hance?”

“Yeah?”

Lana rolled over on her side and tried to discern his features in the darkness of the bedroom. They had been lying side-by-side for half an hour, but she'd known he wasn't sleeping by his breathing and by his restless tossing and turning.

And she had been unable to sleep as she'd waited for him to touch her, to lean over and kiss her. She felt as if she were about to explode from not knowing what to expect. “Are we going to…” She allowed her voice to trail off.

There was a long moment of silence, then she sensed rather than saw him turning to face her. “I thought maybe you wouldn't feel like it tonight. I thought maybe…you know…you might be sore.”

She could hear the tinge of embarrassment in his voice and was grateful for the cover of darkness to hide her own embarrassment. “I am a little tender,” she admitted.

“Get a good night's sleep, Lana. There's always tomorrow night.” He rolled over once again and within minutes she realized he'd fallen asleep.

Lana was both disappointed and relieved that there would be no lovemaking that night. She had a feeling that if they attempted it, she would find it uncomfortable, yet she longed to have him kiss her again, hold her in his strong arms.

She fell asleep and dreamed of Chance's body pressed against hers, his warmth surrounding her. She awakened at dawn, shocked to find that in sleep her body and Chance's had found each other.

His arm was thrown across her stomach and one of his legs was entwined with hers. His breath was warm against the side of her neck and he lay on her hair, effectively trapping her against him.

She was trapped, but she was a willing prisoner. His skin was toast-warm against her, and his masculine scent filled her senses. This is the way married people sleep, she thought. They share not only the intimacy of making love, but also the pleasure of waking in each other's arms.

Closing her eyes, she hoped he didn't awaken for a while. She just wanted to lie here and indulge in the sweet experience of his nearness.

She must have fallen back asleep, for when she opened her eyes once again, she was alone in the bed. She got up, pulled her robe around her and went into
the bathroom. She quickly washed up, brushed her hair into a neat bun, then headed for the kitchen.

He was seated at the table, the morning paper stretched out before him and a cup of coffee in hand. He looked up as she entered, an open, unguarded smile curving his lips. “Good morning,” he said.

She returned his smile and wondered if he had any idea how handsome he looked. Nobody wore jeans and a T-shirt as well as Chance Reilly. “Good morning. You want some breakfast?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Just coffee for me. I've never been much of a breakfast eater.”

She poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him at the table. His hair was still damp from a shower and she could smell the faint scent of minty soap and shaving cream. The scent, so masculine and so intrinsically his, caused a wistful yearning to take residence in the pit of her stomach.

“Did you sleep well?” He folded the paper and shoved it aside.

“Like a log.” She took a sip of her coffee and felt her cheeks warm as his gaze lingered on her.

“Why do you do that with your hair?” he asked.

She reached up with one hand and self-consciously touched the neat bun. “Why do I do what?”

“Pull it all back like that.”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Habit I guess. When I'm working I pull it back for convenience sake.”

“I wish you'd wear it loose more often.” He broke his gaze from hers and stood. “And now it's time for me to get to work.”

“Do you want me to bring lunch out to you?” she asked.

“No, I'll come in around noon. I'll make my phone calls to hire some help after lunch.” With these words, he left the house.

Lana finished her coffee, then went into the bathroom to shower and dress for the day. A half an hour later she stood before the dresser mirror in the bedroom and stared at her reflection. He liked her hair, and he wished she'd wear it loose more often.

It seemed a simple enough request, and when she left the bedroom, her hair was loose and falling freely down her back.

The morning passed quickly as Lana busied herself with household chores and planning the evening meal.

It was just after eleven when a knock fell on the front door. Lana answered and squealed in delight as she saw her younger sister with her precious Marissa in her arms.

“Maya! Come in,” she said as she reached out to take her niece. A gleeful chortle issued from Marissa as she held out her arms to Lana.

Lana cuddled Marissa close and kissed her solidly on the forehead, then grinned at her sister. “Come on into the kitchen. I just made some fresh lemonade.”

“I shouldn't even be speaking to you,” Maya said as she followed Lana into the kitchen. Her dark eyes flashed as she plopped down in a chair at the table.

“What did I do?” Lana asked as she sat, with Marissa on her lap, across from her beautiful sister.

“Without a word to anyone, you got married!” Maya glared at her as if she'd committed a heinous
crime. “Mama told me this morning and I couldn't believe it!”

A wave of guilt swept through Lana. She'd specifically asked her mother not to tell Maya the real circumstances of her marriage to Chance.

Maya, flush with her love for her husband, Drake, would have never, ever understood the forces that had driven Lana into a loveless marriage with an expiration date.

“It all happened so fast,” Lana said. She kissed the top of Marissa's head, loving the sweet scent of baby that clung to the little girl. “And if I remember correctly, I could be mad at you for the very same reasons. I don't recall attending your wedding and you didn't call me the moment this sweet baby arrived into the world.” She smiled at her sister. “How about I pour us some lemonade and we forgive each other.”

Maya leaned forward and reached for Lana's hand. “You know I can't stay mad at you. I just wish you would have given me an opportunity to be part of it. I could have thrown you a bridal shower, bought you a tacky gift, helped you shop for a wedding dress.” She released Lana's hand and stood. “And I'll pour the lemonade so you get more quality time with the baby.”

“Fine with me,” Lana said and once again cuddled the dear little girl close. “She's getting so big,” Lana exclaimed.

“They grow fast, don't they,” Maya agreed. “We're hoping that before too long she'll have a little brother or a sister.”

“And maybe a cousin,” Lana added, her heart swelling at the very idea.

Maya clapped her hands together. “Wouldn't that be wonderful!”

The back door opened and Chance walked in.

“Ah, there he is,” Maya said. “The man of the hour—my new brother-in-law.” She reached up and gave Chance a smacking peck on the cheek. “Welcome to the fold.”

“Thanks.” He hugged her briefly, his gaze focused on Lana. “And that must be the amazing Marissa,” he said.

“Indeed, it is!” Lana lifted the little girl up in the air, laughing as Marissa kicked her feet and waved her hands with excitement. “Isn't she just about the prettiest little girl you've ever seen in your life?”

Chance winked at Maya. “I can remember another little girl I thought was quite pretty.”

Lana blushed as she realized he was talking about her. Of course, she knew he was just keeping up the pretense, but still, his words shot heat through her. She once again cradled the squirming, wiggling baby in her lap and began a game of pat-a-cake.

“I was just pouring us a glass of lemonade,” Maya said. “You joining us?”

“Sounds good.” He sat next to Lana at the table and Marissa stared at him solemnly, apparently measuring him to see if he was worthy of one of her drooling, toothless grins. He passed her test and she grinned at him, batting dark lashes flirtatiously.

“She's going to be a real heartbreaker,” he said, a softness on his face Lana had never seen before.

Maya set the glasses of lemonade on the table, then sat down once again. She looked from Chance to Lana, then laughed. “I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you two finally got together. Lana has never been as crazy about a guy as she was over you, Chance.”

“Maya,” Lana protested and shot her sister a look she hoped would make her change the subject, but Maya merely laughed.

“Oh, goodness, don't tell me Chance didn't know that you were absolutely besotted with him when you were a kid.”

“Actually, I didn't know that,” Chance said and once again looked at Lana, one of his golden-brown eyebrows lifted with amused interest.

“Everyone else knew it,” Maya exclaimed, studiously ignoring Lana's pointed glare. “She drove us all crazy that year you lived with the Coltons. Even Meredith told me she wondered if Lana could complete a sentence without your name in it.”

“She did not,” Lana protested. “You're making that up.”

“Maybe I am,” Maya laughed, then sobered suddenly. “Of course, Meredith doesn't say much of anything nice to anyone anymore.”

“What's going on with Meredith?” Chance asked.

Although Lana was grateful for the change of topic, thoughts of Meredith Colton always produced a deep sadness in her. “Meredith has changed, Chance.”

“Changed how?” he asked, and she knew he was remembering the beautiful woman with the warm
brown eyes and open smile who had welcomed him into their home.

“She's become a raving lunatic,” Maya said. “She's mean-spirited and hateful and snaps at everyone who gets near her. If Mama and Dad didn't love Joe and the rest of the family so much, they probably would have quit working there by now.”

Chance leaned back in his chair, obviously stunned by the news. “What happened to her? I mean, the person you just described is totally at odds with the woman I knew.”

“The big change in her took place right after she had a terrible car accident,” Lana said. “It was about ten years ago, not long after you left Prosperino. She and Emily were going somewhere and they crashed. Neither of them were seriously hurt, but I heard that Emily had horrible nightmares after that and Meredith was never the same.”

“What about Joe? How's he doing?” Chance asked.

Again a wave of sadness shot through Lana. “Mama says he's just a shell, going through the motions, but most of the time he just seems lost.”

Marissa laughed and clapped her hands together, as if to break the somber mood.

“I'd better get moving,” Maya said with a glance at her watch. “I've got several more errands to run before this kid is ready for lunch.”

“You sure you can't stay any longer?” Lana asked, reluctant to relinquish the baby girl in her arms. There was nothing quite as wonderful as holding a baby.

“Not today. But now that you're an old married
lady like me, we'll have to get together for lunch, exchange recipes and gossip,” Maya said.

Lana nodded and gave Marissa one last kiss. “Goodbye, sweet baby,” she said softly. She looked up to see Chance staring at her, an odd expression on his face.

“You don't have to walk me out.” Maya took Marissa from Lana's lap. “See you two later.” She gave a cheery wave, then walked out of the kitchen. A moment later the sound of the front door opening and closing indicated she was gone.

“You ready for some lunch?” Lana asked, fidgeting nervously beneath Chance's steady gaze.

“No thanks,” he said.

“You aren't hungry?”

“Actually, I am hungry…but I'm not hungry for lunch.”

It was a good thing Lana was sitting, for had she not been, her knees would have surely weakened by the sudden realization of what he was talking about.

Green flames lit his eyes, and even though she had never seen a man look at her in that way, there was a primal part of her that recognized it and responded.

“Then what are you hungry for?” she asked, her voice half-breathless with anticipation and nerves. Her mouth was unbelievably dry.

He leaned forward and wrapped a strand of her hair slowly around his hand, pulling her forward with a gentle pressure. “I'm hungry for the taste of your mouth, for the feel of your skin against mine.”

His words evoked a heat inside her, and his eyes
were like the sea, so green, so compelling. She wanted to fall into them, fall into him.

“Are you feeling better today?” he asked, his lips mere inches from hers.

“I'm feeling fine,” she whispered, then blushed. “But, Chance…it's the middle of the day.”

“We'll pull the drapes.” He gave her no opportunity to protest, but instead stood and pulled her up and into his arms.

His mouth took possession of hers, his tongue seeking entry as his hands pressed her intimately against him. The sweet rush of wild sensations that had claimed her on the first night he'd kissed her returned, sending her senses reeling.

When he finally removed his mouth from hers, she was utterly breathless. He held out his hand to her and she took it, allowing him to lead her down the hallway and into their bedroom.

Once there, she stood and watched, her heart thudding in anticipation as he drew the heavy draperies across the windows, throwing the room into semidarkness. He reached into the nightstand drawer and removed a package of matches, then lit the candle she had sitting on the top of the nightstand.

When he looked at her once again, his eyes reflected the glow of the candle. Lana's mouth grew dry once again and every nerve ending in her body felt as if it were on fire.

His gaze still locked with hers, he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor just behind him. The candlelight loved his
chest, turning the springy hair into sparkles and sharply defining the muscles and planes.