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
