Tease Me (29 page)

“Cool, a cop,” was Rob’s only comment.

The man shined the flashlight beam in Lana’s face, then over the car’s interior. “Hi.
Looks like you got yourself a problem here. Anyone—” He paused and stared a moment.
“Anyone hurt?”

“N-no, we’re fine, but we’re in a real bind—” She stopped. Holy cheese, was this guy
who she thought he
was? “Sloan? Sloan Bennett! I … it is you, isn’t it?” The short hair and the uniform
had thrown her off for a moment, but she never could have forgotten the shape of his
face, those sharp cheekbones and the straight, perfect nose, the sensual lips … especially
the lips. Her face burned.

“Lana,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “Lana Walsh.”

She had a million things she wanted to ask him—like how had he ended up a cop, of
all things? Had he gone to college? Did he still ride a motorcycle? Was he married?
And where the heck had he disappeared to after graduation? She’d seen him around that
summer, once at the gas station, once at the grocery store, although she was pretty
sure he hadn’t spotted her. Both times she’d tried to gather up the courage to approach
him, wanting to explain. But both times she’d realized she didn’t have the words to
explain because she didn’t understand it herself—the consuming need she had for him,
tempered by a fear she couldn’t put a name to.

So she’d bided her time, thinking she would have another chance, that at some other
time and place she would be more … prepared. Then there’d been that gossip about him
and Nicole Johnson, and he’d simply vanished.

She realized she was no more prepared now than she’d ever been. “Listen,” she said
a little breathlessly, “I’m late for Callie Calloway’s wedding, and I’m a bridesmaid,
and I have to get to the church right away.”

“I was going there myself, to handle the parking lot traffic. I’ll give you a lift,”
he offered, but not eagerly. Like maybe he knew he had to because he was a cop, but
otherwise he wouldn’t think twice about letting her drown.

“Thanks.” He didn’t have to ask her again. Right then she needed a knight in shining
armor, and she couldn’t be picky about who that knight was. She turned to Rob. “You’ll
have to get out on my side, sweetie, or you’ll end up falling in the ditch.”

Lana opened her door, hiked up her long velvet skirt, and warily allowed Sloan to
assist her out of the awkwardly angled car and under his umbrella. His hand was strong
on her upper arm, and she felt the burn of his touch long after he’d released her.
“C’mon, Rob, get under the umbrella.”

Rob scrambled out after her, his wide eyes riveted on the policeman’s uniform. “Is
that a real gun?”

“Sure is,” Sloan replied, suddenly sounding much less harsh. He opened the back door
of the squad car. Rob dived in and Lana followed, relieved that she’d gotten only
a little damp.

“Do you need anything from the car?” Sloan asked.

“Oh, my shoes!” She looked down at the Loafers, which she’d elected to wear instead
of the custom-dyed peau de soie pumps when she’d seen the rain. “They’re on the floor
in the backseat.” She handed him the keys.

“Mom, do you think he’d let me ride in front?” Rob asked excitedly, peering over the
front seat at the impressive array of electronics attached to the dash.

“Just stay put for now, please?” she said wearily. “It’s only five minutes to the
church.”

Rob flopped back down in the seat, his arms crossed, a mutinous expression on his
face. “You never want me to have any fun.”

“I love for you to have fun,” Lana said. “But we’re late and in a hurry, and we don’t
really have time to worry about having fun.” Because if they did, truth be known,
she
would like to ride up front with Sloan. And she’d be far more interested in the man
than in his machines.

Sloan opened the front door and slid behind the wheel. He took off his hat and shook
the water from it. “Callie and Sam picked a heckuva day to get married.”

“That’s what they get for not having a nice long engagement and marrying in the spring,”
Lana replied, thinking that her mother, Ann Imogene Slocum Walsh, God rest her soul,
would have plenty to say about Callie’s whirlwind wedding plans. She would probably
be placing bets with her society friends as to when the baby would be born.

“They couldn’t afford to wait,” Sloan said, a note of censure in his voice. “Sam has
to get back to his ranch. He can’t stay down here forever courting Callie like she
was some Southern belle. Arid they want to be togeth—”

“Hey, I wasn’t criticizing. I’m thrilled they’re tying the knot so quickly. I thought
they should’ve gotten married years ago.” Sheesh. How had she pushed his button?

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“You know them well, then?” Lana went on, un-daunted. Despite her supposedly genteel
upbringing, she’d never been easily offended. People said and did things for all sorts
of reasons. She would assume Sloan didn’t intend any kind of personal attack.

“I don’t know them socially, exactly,” Sloan said. “Callie was assisting with a police
investigation, so we’ve been talking a lot the last few weeks. I guess she’s let a
few things drop about her wedding plans.”

“She’s probably told you more than she told me. I haven’t been able to get hold of
her at all. I knew she was involved somehow in Tamra Sanger’s arrest, but she hasn’t
had time to give me any details, and the newspaper certainly hasn’t done much of a
job of covering the story other than wringing sensational headlines out of the few
crumbs they have.”

“I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation.”

“Well, goodness’ sakes, I wasn’t asking you to. I’m just making conversation.”

“Mom,” Rob whispered urgently. “Don’t argue with a policeman.”

“He’s the one who’s arguing,” she whispered back. And he was. Sloan seemed to be going
out of his way to be short with her. Maybe she couldn’t blame him. The last time they’d
spoken—when she’d told him she couldn’t see him anymore—they’d left the broken pieces
of their relationship, sharp as shattered glass, between them.

When Sloan pulled up to the front door of the church, Lana pondered how to end this
odd encounter
with a man who’d once meant so much to her. He’d filled her fantasies. He’d taken
her virginity.

Then she laughed silently at herself, though it was a forced laugh. All those memories
were water under the bridge, a lifetime ago. She had other things to worry about—like
making an appearance at one of her best friends’ wedding.

“Thanks, Sloan.” She quickly gathered up her shoes and handbag. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything for a damsel in distress,” he said, echoing her earlier thoughts about knights
in shining armor. But there was an edge to his rejoinder, undercurrents Lana couldn’t
quite put her finger on.

Having run out of things to say, she flashed him a smile, dragged her mesmerized son
out of the backseat, and fled into the church.

Sloan could only shake his head as he watched the woman run into the church, creating
a wake of green velvet. How many times had he fantasized about having Lana Walsh in
his patrol car?

He shook his head again, certain he’d never visualized the scenario that had just
taken place. Before he’d known her, his adolescent dreams about a blond cheer-leader
had involved seduction and conquest. She’d been like a golden trophy in his mind,
a symbol of everything he didn’t and never would have. Although she hadn’t exactly
been rich, her family was from old money. She wasn’t for the likes of him, he’d been
told over and over in one way or another. He’d been just a
bad kid from the poor side of town, and nice things were never a part of his life.

But he’d had her briefly, unexpectedly. They’d met at the local library, of all places,
when she’d been researching a term paper and he’d been hiding in the stacks, reading.
That’s where he hung out a lot, voraciously reading anything that had to do with travel,
adventure, life in the city. Anything that could take him away from the hell of the
here and now. Mostly no one noticed.

But Lana did. That meeting had launched a three-week relationship that still stood
out crisp and clear, an interlude of intense feeling standing out in harsh relief
against the backdrop of emotionless detachment that his life had become. He’d let
her see him as no one else had—curious, vulnerable, a boy with dreams. And he’d seen
Lana as no one else had, freed from the stiff cloak of respectability and perfection
that had nearly smothered her. Or so it had seemed.

Her abrupt kiss-off had convinced him the whole thing had been a meaningless game
to her. She’d been slumming, that was all. He’d been a fool to think he could ever
be important to a girl like that.

He’d grown up since then, knew that not everyone judged a person by his family or
his bank account. His years in Dallas had given him a different perspective. He’d
turned his life around and, when he’d returned to Destiny a few months before, he’d
been able to do so with dignity. The community, even those who remembered his less-than-sterling
past, had welcomed him
back and now showed him some measure of respect, in deference to the uniform.

But Lana … one look at her and he was plunged into the memories of what it felt like
to be an outsider, a confused kid who’d been given an ice cream cone on a hot day,
only to fumble and drop it onto the pavement.

She was something else. Lana had married the bank president’s son, now a practicing
attorney. It didn’t really matter that they’d divorced. She’d probably gotten some
bodacious settlement from ol’ Bart. It wasn’t likely she’d bat those baby blues in
Sloan’s direction ever again. They’d had their moment. He might not be a hoodlum anymore,
but he was just a street cop.

Sloan parked his patrol car, got out, and strode toward the parking lot, where cars
were already beginning to snarl up as impatient wedding guests vied for parking spaces
close to the door on this rainy night. He should have gotten there sooner. Then again,
he wouldn’t have missed his five minutes with Lana Walsh for anything.

For the next few minutes he concentrated on straightening out the traffic, turning
the jam of headlights into an orderly line. He enjoyed his job, even when it meant
standing in a cold rain when a warm church beckoned. Work was something concrete he
could hang on to, something that filled his days and often his nights because he worked
a lot of overtime. Any given shift might be filled with surprises, but there was a
constancy about it nonetheless. He could depend on himself and his buddies.

He couldn’t depend on much of anything else.

When the traffic wound down, Sloan stepped inside the church vestibule. He removed
his dripping slicker and hat. An usher gave him a curious look.

“Are you with the bride or groom?” the usher asked.

“I was hired to direct traffic and provide security,” Sloan replied. He could have
passed himself off as a wedding guest. Callie had asked him to come. But he felt more
comfortable standing in the back, and he could see fine.

Callie and her bridesmaids had already made their entrances and were standing at the
front of the church. All eyes were on the elegant bride. But Sloan was far more fascinated
by the petite attendant with the golden hair. Even at this distance he could see the
dazzling smile on Lana’s face as she watched her friends exchanging vows. Oh, how
he remembered that smile.

Once, he’d almost gotten the courage to confront her, to take her to task for dumping
him with no explanation. It was during the spring carnival their senior year. Lana
had been selling tickets, and Sloan had stood in line, ready to plunk his money down
and exchange a few words with her, see if she could explain herself, justify her shoddy
behavior. But Callie had unwittingly spoiled his chance by showing up and spiriting
Lana away on some mission.

Just as well, he’d thought back then. She probably wouldn’t have given him the time
of day and he’d have made a bad situation worse. But she had looked at him
just before walking away. Their gazes had locked while time stood still and his heart
stopped beating. And then she’d gone on, and he’d wondered if he’d imagined the whole
encounter.

In weaker moments he’d pictured meeting her again, seeing her look of surprise when
she found out he’d made something of himself, pretending he barely remembered their
relationship. Tonight that fantasy had unexpectedly come true. She’d actually gaped
in shock. But the memory left him no satisfaction, only a fresh yearning that infuriated
him.

The ceremony was blessedly brief. Before Sloan could even dry off, the beaming bride
and groom were striding up the aisle. Sloan had never seen Callie so radiant, and
he found himself smiling. In the last few weeks he’d grown fond of Callie. She’d done
a difficult thing by helping the police department catch a murderer in their midst.
She had, in fact, risked her relationship with Sam in the interest of justice. She
had a lot of gumption, and Sloan was happy for her.

He hoped things would go smoother for the newly-weds from then on.

Back into his professional mode, Sloan opened the front door of the church, allowing
the couple to be whisked into a limousine, which would take them to a downtown hotel
for the reception. At least the rain had let up. Wedding guests poured out of the
church into the parking lot.

Sloan retrieved his hat and slicker, intending to resume his traffic duties, when
he noticed Lana standing alone in the vestibule, looking a bit lost.

“Lana,” he said before he could think about it, “you need a ride to the reception,
right?”

“Oh, no—that is, Millicent can take me.” She looked on either side of her. “Now, where’d
she go?”

“The other bridesmaid with the four kids hanging on to her?” Sloan remembered Millicent
from high school. She’d been shy, studious, a bit of an outcast, like him. In an art
class she’d helped him draw a bowl of fruit, he recalled. “She left about five minutes
ago. I believe your Rob was one of the kids.”