Carla Cassidy - Pregnant In Prosperino p.03

Eight

Emily unlocked the door to the unfamiliar small cabin and flicked on the lights inside. The bright illumination was a welcome relief after the short walk through the wooded area from her car in the parking lot of the motel.

The Hollow Tree Motel was located on the outskirts of Keyhole and consisted of small cabins spread among thick trees. The advertisement on the highway had indicated clean, inexpensive and private.

She’d called Toby from a pay phone just outside town and had told him to meet her here in the morning. She knew she had to talk to him, to tell him that although she would always treasure his friendship and support, there would never be anything romantic between them. It was the least she could do for a man who had shown her kindness in her darkest hours.

She set her overnight bag on the floor and took a brief moment to familiarize herself with the cabin. It was a simple setup. A combination living room with kitchenette, a bathroom and a small, but adequate bedroom. Although certainly nothing luxurious, it was fine for one night, and that’s only as long as she intended to be here.

Kicking off her shoes, she flopped down on the sofa and drew a deep breath. She was exhausted. She’d pulled a double shift at the diner, then had hopped into the car to make the trip from Red River to this motel in Keyhole.

Thinking of the conversation she had to have with Toby the next morning only made her more exhausted…and sad. It would be one of the most difficult things she’d ever done in her life, and for the hundredth time, she wished her heart had been able to love Toby. And she did love him, but not in the way he needed to be loved.

Her thoughts turned to her mother, Meredith. As difficult as Emily’s life had been from the time Patsy had orchestrated the car crash and pretended to be Meredith, Emily couldn’t imagine what Meredith’s life must have been like.

It must be horrid to have no memories of any family, of the past shared with loved ones. Meredith had lost everything. Her family. Her friends. Her memories. She had been utterly alone in the world after the car accident.

Still, Meredith had been strong enough to make a life for herself. Emily knew she had been working in an office job at the University of Mississippi and lived in a house where she had a little garden.

Emily might have temporarily been displaced from her home. She might have momentarily lost her family, but at least she had her memories.

A smile curved her lips upward as she remembered how much her mother had loved working in the large garden at the ranch. Meredith and Marco Ramirez, the Colton gardener, had often spent long hours discussing various flowers and plants.

A vision of Meredith filled Emily’s head. It was a vision of her wearing an old pair of jeans and one of her husband’s shirts, gardening spade in hand as she planted in the garden that surrounded a huge fountain in the center of the courtyard.

And soon she’ll be back at the ranch and gardening there, Emily told herself, refusing to believe in any possibility other than a happy ending.

Her heart crashed into her chest as a knock fell on her door. She glanced at her watch. Almost eleven. Surely the manager of the place wouldn’t be bothering her at this time of night. There was only one other person it could be.

Toby.

She peered out the window next to the door. Even in the darkness of the night, she recognized his silhouette, tall and lean. She opened the door. “Emma.” He swept off his hat as he stepped through the door and set it on the nearby coffee table. A tentative smile lit his boyishly handsome face. “I…I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you. I have been worried about you. I’ll come back in the morning if you want…I just…I just needed to see you.” His blue eyes gazed at her with warmth and confusion. “You left here without a word. I just had to see that you were okay.”

“I’m fine, Toby.” She knew the best thing to do would be to talk to him right now, to tell him that she cared about him, but would never be the woman in his life. But, she didn’t feel prepared at the moment. She’d intended to pick and choose her words carefully throughout this night before speaking them to him in the morning. “Toby, I’m really too tired to talk tonight, but I’ll see you in the morning at ten like we planned!”

“Sure,” he agreed instantly. “That will be fine. How about if I bring breakfast with me?”

Emily hesitated then nodded. “That would be nice,” she said. “Then I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well, Emma,” he said with a last, lingering sweet smile, then he turned and left.

Emily closed and locked the door behind him, her heart heavy as she anticipated the morning to come. Once again she sank down on the sofa, her thoughts drifting back to the time she’d spent in Keyhole.

Her relationship with Toby was based on a series of lies. Initially, he’d believed she was part of a car theft ring operating in a nearby town. But, finally he’d come to believe the story she’d told him, that her name was Emma Logan and she’d lost her fiancé in a tragic car accident and had come to Keyhole, Wyoming to heal her broken heart.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize he was a sweet, gentle man. He’d often talked about his older brother, Josh, who worked the rodeo circuit and Emily had enjoyed him telling stories of the two when they had been young.

The bed looked wonderfully inviting as she entered the bedroom and she was just about to undress for the night when a soft knock fell on her front door.

Toby. He’d remembered his hat.

She hurried to the door and started to open it, then cried out as it was flung open with a force that threw her backward and nearly off her feet.

Horror swept through her, chilling her to the bone, etching terror into her heart as she stared at the man who stood before her.

Long, sandy-colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing a balding place on the top of his head. He was rather thin, with a slightly protruding pot belly. His Fu-Manchu-style mustache and goatee drew attention to his thin mouth…a mouth now smiling and exposing a large space between his two front teeth. In his hand, he held a gun.

Although she had no idea what his name was, she knew who he was, had seen him twice before when she’d barely escaped with her life. He was the man her aunt Patsy had hired to kill her.

“Well, if it isn’t little Emily Blair…or would you rather I call you Emma Logan?” His dark eyes gleamed as he shoved the door shut behind him, then advanced closer to where she stood.

He walked with a limp, and someplace in the back of her mind, Emily thought that if she could just get away from him, she could outrun him. However, at the moment she didn’t attempt to run as she knew it was impossible for her to outrun a speeding bullet.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was stalling…hoping…praying for a miracle.

“The name is Silas Pike, but my friends call me Snake Eyes.” He grinned again, as if he liked the sound of his nickname.

Snake Eyes. Yes, she could understand why he was called that. His eyes, so dark they were almost black, were small and beady and held the same kind of malevolent blankness she’d seen in snakes.

Her gaze darted away from his, seeking, searching for something nearby that could be used as a weapon. But what made an adequate weapon against a gun?

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice slightly trembling. “If it’s money, I have a little bit. I’ll get it for you and you can leave. I won’t tell anyone you were here or report you to the police.”

He laughed, the sound unpleasant and sending a new chill shimmering up her spine. “I’ll take your money after I do what I’ve been hired to do.” He seemed in no hurry to accomplish what he’d come for. He walked around the room, his gaze darting here and there.

“Patsy hired you, didn’t she? Patsy Portman?”

“I don’t know any Patsy. I was hired by a woman named Meredith. Course, she didn’t tell me her name, but I did some checking and found out who she was.”

Despair swept through Emily. Even though she’d suspected the truth, had feared it in her heart, the certain knowledge that Patsy had, indeed, hired this…this Snake Eyes to kill her was devastating.

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time. If you’d been ugly, I might not have found you. But folks remember a pretty young woman with pretty long hair.” He smiled slyly. “And I’ve seen you cozying up to that local yokel deputy sheriff. Too bad it didn’t do you any good.”

Silas stepped closer to her, close enough that she could smell him—the smell of stale body odor and sour breath, the smell of evil and imminent death.

“You’ve been a bad girl.” His voice was soft and his smile remained on his face. “You’ve wasted a lot of my time. You were supposed to be dead months ago.”

“Please, Mr. Pike. Whatever she’s paid you, I’ll double it if you just turn around and walk away from here.”

She knew it was no good to scream. The other cabins were empty and nobody would hear her. Nobody would even hear the gun when he shot it and sent a bullet through her. Oh, why hadn’t she taken a room in town?

“That’s real nice,” he said. “The way you called me Mr. Pike, all respectful-like. But I’m afraid it’s less a matter of money and more a matter of honor. I was hired to do a job, and I don’t want word to get around that I don’t do what I promise to do.”

A bubble of hysterical laughter rose to her throat. A hired killer who was afraid of gossip. The laughter quickly transformed to tears.

She would die here alone in this cottage, away from the family she loved, never to see her mother finally regain her place in that family.

“Those tears won’t change my mind,” he said, a touch of derisiveness in his voice. “Let’s just get this done, so I can get out of this one-horse town,” he finally said wearily.

“Turn around,” he instructed.

Emily drew a deep shuddering breath. “No.”

He looked at her in surprise.

“I won’t turn around. I won’t make it easy on you by letting you shoot me in the back.” She raised her chin, once again praying for a miracle. “You’re going to have to look me in the eyes when you pull that trigger and kill me.”

He frowned, obviously not pleased with her words. Then he shrugged. “It don’t make no matter to me,” he said. He raised the gun and a rush of adrenaline soared through Emily.

Before he could pull the trigger, she leapt over and behind the sofa. She hit the floor, painfully jarring her elbow and knocking the breath from her.

She’d rather be killed while doing something constructive than shot standing still like a deer frozen in a car’s headlights.

“Dammit, why are you making this so hard? Say your prayers, Emily Colton.” He laughed, obviously amused by his tough-guy line. The laughter chilled Emily to her bones. “Here I come, and nothing is gonna stop me now.” The words were followed by a loud crash.

“Emma!”

Toby’s voice was nearly swallowed by the sharp report of gunshots. Two shots in rapid succession.

Then silence.

Emily held her breath, her entire body shaking as she waited to hear a sound, any sound that would let her know what had just occurred. Seconds passed and she stuffed her fist against her mouth to still the cries of terror that begged to be released.

Finally, she heard something—a soft, almost inaudible moan.

She peeked her head up over the back of the sofa and cried out in horror as she saw Toby sprawled on the floor near the front door, a crimson stain spreading over the front of his khaki shirt. Silas “Snake Eyes” Pike was nowhere to be seen.

“Toby!” She pulled herself up off the floor and raced around the edge of the sofa. She fell to the floor beside him, her heart thundering in her chest.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. The words reverberated in her brain. She could tell his wound was bad. Really bad. Blood was seeping not only from his chest, but puddling on the floor beneath him. “Oh God, Toby.”

He smiled at her, a brief, quicksilver smile. “I forgot my hat.”

She nodded, tears racing down her cheeks. His blue eyes gazed at her worriedly and he reached for her hand. “Did…did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice whispery soft.

“No…no. He didn’t hurt me.” She tried to pull away from him. “I’ve got to get you help.”

“Too…late,” he said, the shine in his eyes fading and his voice even more weak. “You…have to get out of here. He…ran out, but I don’t know if I shot him.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she exclaimed and once again tried to pull her hand from his.

He released her hand and touched her cheek softly. “Don’t fret…just get out of here. Everything is going to be all right, Emma.” His hand dropped to his side, and his eyes continued to gaze at her, only this time his gaze was blank.

“Toby?” She grabbed his hand, but there was no reciprocating movement in his. “Toby!” With trembling fingers she touched the side of his neck, trying desperately to feel a pulse.

Nothing. And his eyes continued to stare. She realized he was gone. Dead.

Deep, wrenching sobs overtook her as she held his hand, drew it to her lips and kissed it. Oh God, not Toby. Please, bring him back. Don’t take him. Sweet, dear Toby, who had always looked out for her, who had suspected she might be in trouble.

Dead.

Dead because of her.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat beside him, gripping his hand and sobbing, but through the grief that ripped through her, fear once again flurried inside her and she knew she had to do as Toby had told her to. She had to get out of here.

She pulled herself up, knowing there was nothing more she could do for Toby, and grabbed her purse and duffelbag.

Tears half blinded her as she glanced down at the body. “I’m sorry, Toby,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” The grief that filled her was nearly debilitating, but she shoved it away. “You’re a hero, Toby. You’ll always be my hero.”

A moment later she slipped out of the cottage and into the dark of the night. She paused there, swallowing again and again in an effort to still her sobs. She had to put her grief aside and focus on her present situation.

She had no idea if Toby had managed to shoot Silas Pike. She couldn’t know if the gunman was now lying in a pool of blood or if he’d managed to escape Toby’s shot unscathed.

She had no idea if Silas had come alone or had brought an accomplice with him. It was possible Silas or one of his cohorts was hiding behind one of the trees, squatted down in the underbrush, waiting for her, waiting to finish his job.

He wouldn’t know that Toby was dead, that Toby could no longer protect her. But, eventually, if he were capable, he would realize something was amiss and he would return to the cottage to complete what he’d begun.

She crept from tree to tree, holding her breath and trying not to step on branches or twigs that might snap and give away her location. Her anguish over Toby was shoved deep inside, her instinct for survival first and foremost at the moment.

Walking as swiftly and as silently as she could, she kept her ears peeled for any sound, no matter how small, that might indicate Silas “Snake Eyes” Pike was following her.

She headed for the highway. Even though she knew hitchhiking was dangerous, it didn’t seem as dangerous as the man who might be stalking her. And at the moment a car or truck carrying her far away from here sounded wonderful.

Still, it was slow going as she found herself freezing, heart pounding, each time she heard a crackling of underbrush or the wind rustling leaves.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed or how long she had walked before she finally came to the highway. Hiding behind a tree some distance away, she eyed the deserted road and prayed for headlights to pierce the darkness of the night.

It was as she was crouched in the underbrush by the highway that a new thought sent terror through her. What if Silas Pike had a car? What if he was parked down the highway at this very moment, watching, waiting for her to emerge from the brush?

Nine

“I thought I’d surprise you and make breakfast,” Chance said when Lana entered the kitchen. He walked toward her, a pleased smile on his handsome face as he held a plate of eggs, sausage and toast under her nose.

Lana took one look, the odors of grease and food wafting to her nose, and backed away from him and the plate. She turned and raced to the bathroom, slammed the door behind her, then was violently ill.

She’d managed to hide the morning sickness from Chance for the past week because when she got out of bed in the mornings, he was already outside.

By the time he came into the house around noon for lunch, the brief bout of sickness had passed and she was fine for the remainder of the day.

Now, feeling as if the worst was behind her, she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth, disappointment sweeping through her as she realized the cat was probably now out of the bag. He would know that he’d successfully fulfilled his end of their bargain.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, but saw no discernible sign of pregnancy. She’d heard of the glow of pregnancy, but after spilling her guts, her skin retained a paleness that didn’t even begin to resemble a glow.

She opened the bathroom door, unsurprised to see Chance standing in the hallway. “I’ve had some interesting reactions to my cooking, but I think that was probably the most dramatic,” he said with a touch of wry humor.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, a touch of nausea still rolling in the pit of her stomach. She drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and still her bucking tummy.

“Do you think maybe you have a touch of the flu?” He gazed at her intently, his facial expression utterly unreadable.

She considered saying yes, telling a little white lie that would extend their time together, but she knew she couldn’t. “No, I don’t think it’s the flu.”

“What do you think it might be?”

He knew. She could see in his eyes that he knew what it was, but he was waiting for her to speak it, to say the words out loud.

“I think maybe it’s morning sickness.”

Finally speaking the words out loud sent a thrill through her, an excited thrill tempered by the devastating knowledge that there would now be no reason for Chance to ever make love to her again.

“Morning sickness,” he echoed. “Maybe we should get one of those home pregnancy tests to make sure. We should probably do that before we make a doctor’s appointment for you.”

“Okay,” she agreed, surprised that he’d used “we” instead of “you,” making it obvious he intended to be a part of this at least until they got the final results and knew for certain that she was pregnant.

Together they went back into the kitchen, where Chance had apparently removed any sign of food while she’d been in the bathroom. “How about just a piece of toast or maybe a couple of crackers?” he asked.

“No, thanks, I’m fine for a little while.” She sank down at the table, still feeling a little shaky.

“What about a cup of coffee? A glass of juice or something?” His brow wrinkled worriedly.

She waved her hands, then smiled at him reassuringly. “I’m fine, Chance. My stomach should settle down by noon, then I’ll eat some lunch.”

He sat down at the table across from her, his brow still crinkled worriedly. “Are you feeling all right other than the nausea? I mean, are you in any pain or anything like that?”

“No. Really, I’m fine.” His obvious concern touched her deep inside and sent a warm glow through her. He cared. At least he cared a little bit about her.

“Do you want to go ahead and take a ride into town? Get the test?”

“I don’t want to interfere with your work schedule,” she replied.

He shrugged. “I probably won’t get much done until we find out what’s going on with you. We might as well head on into town.”

“Okay,” she said without enthusiasm, knowing that a positive test result would be the final nail in the coffin of her marriage. “Just let me get my purse.”

She left the kitchen and went back into their bedroom. She grabbed her purse, but hesitated in the doorway, gazing at the bed where Chance had introduced her to such physical pleasure. It wasn’t just his lovemaking that she was going to miss.

She’d miss his quicksilver, sexy smile, the laughter that transformed his eyes to a beautiful spring green. She’d miss sitting on the porch with him in the evenings, sharing the end of the day with quiet conversation and reflective thoughts.

Grief ripped through her, unexpected in its intensity. She’d known for some time that it would be difficult for them to part, but she hadn’t realized just how difficult it was going to be.

Would he want her to leave immediately? By this evening, with a positive test result known, would she be packing her things? Would she awaken in the morning not with Chance’s arms around her, but rather alone in the bed in her lonely apartment?

She left the bedroom and shoved these thoughts away. She couldn’t dwell on the future, not even the immediate future. She’d take this day minute by minute. She had a feeling it was the only way she would be able to get through it.

He was waiting for her by the front door, jingling his car keys in his hand. She wondered if he was eager to get the test, get the results, and then get her out of his life. Again a shaft of pain shot through her heart.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she replied and together they left the house that for Lana had become a home.

“You know the minute we buy a home pregnancy test in the drug store, everyone in town will know it,” she said once they were in the car and on their way.

“Yeah, there aren’t many secrets in Prosperino, are there? But I figure if you went to a doctor, everyone in town would also know.”

She nodded her agreement. She well knew how gossip flew in Prosperino. For years the major topic of conversation in the café and between women at the stores had been the dramatic change in Meredith Colton’s personality. Or, more recently, the attempted murder of Joe Colton and the arrest of his friend Emmett Fallon.

She wondered how much gossip had flown around about her and Chance following their quickie wedding? Everyone in Prosperino knew Chance as a sexy bad boy, a young man who’d often been in trouble with his father, and occasionally in trouble with the law. They knew him as a man who’d never committed himself to anyone or anything.

They saw only the shell he presented to the outside world. But Lana knew the truth. She knew him as a sensitive man with a beautiful spirit, a man who had been scarred by the years of abuse inflicted on him by his father.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Yes, much.” She grinned at him. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t throw up in your car.”

He returned her smile. “I wasn’t worried about that.” His smile faded. “I just don’t like the idea of you feeling bad.”

Oh, heaven help her. When he said nice things to her like that, her heart fluttered and her love for him expanded. She cast him a surreptitious glance, noting how wonderful he looked in the dark green, long-sleeved dress shirt. The color brought out the bright green of his eyes and pulled forth the golden strands in his brown hair.

Aware that her time with him was running out, she tried to memorize each and every feature—the square shape of his face, his strong, straight nose, the full lips that gave him a sensual, sexy aura.

She directed her gaze out the window, in her mind’s eye seeing his naked body, the broad shoulders dusted lightly with a sprinkling of freckles, the muscled chest with its soft golden hair and the flat abdomen with a tiny mole right next to his belly button.

His legs were long and muscular and covered with springy, curly hairs that pleasantly tickled her legs when he wrapped them around her.

Her inner temperature seemed to climb higher as she thought of him more intimately, remembering the nights of pleasure he’d given her, the mastery of his caresses, the control that allowed him to take her to the peak over and over again before sating himself.

And beyond the intensity of her physical reaction to him, she knew she’d miss those moments when he’d walk past her and lightly touch her hair or give her back a quick stroke. She’d miss the way he placed his hand in the small of her back when they crossed a street, how he always held out a hand to help her up out of a chair. He did these things unconsciously, but she was intensely conscious of every single touch from him.

She tried to imagine herself in the future, alone and raising Chance’s son or daughter. Would the child look like him? Would her daughter have bright green eyes, or her son have Chance’s square facial shape and strong nose? Would she be able to look at her baby and not remember, not mourn for the man she loved?

Again she worked to push these disturbing thoughts out of her head, unwilling to grieve before it was absolutely, positively necessary. At least she had a little bit of time with him before they knew the test results and they told each other goodbye.



Once they reached town, Chance was in no hurry to race to the drugstore and buy the test. He suddenly thought of a dozen errands he’d been putting off but now seemed necessary to complete immediately.

It was an additional pleasure to have Lana tagging along. In the hardware store she helped him pick out the new handles he wanted to put on the kitchen cabinets. He listened to her opinions, remembering what she’d said about needing to please a prospective buyer’s wife as well as the husband.

He appreciated her input on what was the best kind of floor cleaner to scrub the linoleum in the kitchen and which furniture polish did the best job.

And in every conversation, in every minute that passed between them, the knowledge that she was probably pregnant never got far from his mind.

Hearing her in the bathroom that morning had been torturous for him. He’d heard about morning sickness, but he’d never really thought about what it meant. Why on earth would women want to get pregnant and suffer through that kind of thing?

What other negative things would happen to her and her body during pregnancy? He’d heard of crazy cravings, intense mood swings and uncontrollable weeping. Would she be able to handle all that alone? Had she really understood what she’d been getting into when she’d agreed to this whole crazy scheme?

After the hardware store, he asked her if she felt like getting a bite to eat and she readily agreed. They went to the café and took a booth in the back. Within minutes Angie came out from the kitchen to visit with them.

“Hey, you two,” she greeted them with her usual friendly smile. “I’ve been meaning to drive by your place for the last week or so.” She plunged her hand into the pocket of her huge apron and withdrew several index cards and handed them to Lana.

“What’s this?” Lana asked.

Angie smiled sheepishly. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous and I’m sure you’re a wonderful cook. But these are the recipes for dishes I remember Chance especially loved eating here.”

She smiled warmly at Chance. “I haven’t forgotten how much you enjoyed my hot chicken salad when you were young, and that strawberry pie that I used to make.” She turned and looked at Lana. “I just thought it would be nice if you, as his wife, had those recipes.”

Lana’s eyes were huge and impossibly luminous. “Thank you, Angie,” she said, then suddenly bolted from the table and raced toward the rest rooms.

Angie looked at Chance in surprise. “My goodness, is she all right? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” Chance hurriedly assured her. “Lana has been fighting off a little flu bug for the past couple of days.” The little white lie rolled from his lips effortlessly. He wasn’t about to admit to Angie that Lana might be pregnant before they knew for sure.

“There’s some nasty stuff going around,” Angie replied. “I heard Wilma Nitters had to be hospitalized for dehydration after a bout with the flu.”

“Trust me, I’ll see that doesn’t happen to Lana,” Chance said.

Angie smiled at him. “I’m so happy for you, Chance. It’s good to see you looking so happy.” She reached out and patted his shoulder with her plump hand. “Me and Harmon drove by your ranch the other night and the place looks great. Your mama would have been proud of you. She loved that ranch.”

Chance looked at Angie in surprise. “My mother loved the ranch?”

“Indeed.” With no little effort, Angie scooted into the place Lana had vacated, her plump body just fitting between the back of the booth and the table. “Ah, Chance, your mama loved that place almost as much as she loved you. Most evenings she’d sit on the porch and listen to the cattle, the insects, the night songs of birds and she told me she always felt secure, and warm and safe because she knew she was listening to the sounds of home. She’d be so pleased that you’re carrying on her love of the land and making that place a home.”

Chance was positively amazed by this information. “Why did you never tell me this before?”

Angie shrugged. “When you were younger, all you wanted to do was escape from here. When you got older and came back to town for your brief visits, you still had the look of a wanderer in your eyes.”

Angie gazed at him thoughtfully, her sharp eyes seeming to peer right into his soul. “I see a new maturity in you. Lana is good for you. Your mother would have embraced her like the daughter she never had.”

Chance frowned thoughtfully, trying to make sense of this new information. “I never really thought about Mom liking the ranch.”

“Your father bought it because of her,” Angie replied. “I think Tom would have been perfectly satisfied to stay in the army forever. But your mother wanted a home, a ranch, and so your father left the army and bought the place to please her.”

They both looked up as Lana appeared once again. Angie quickly scooted out of the booth. “You doing okay, sweetie?” she asked as she patted Lana’s shoulder. “Chance said you’ve been fighting off a little flu bug.”

“I’m fine,” Lana smiled sheepishly and slid back in across from Chance. He eyed her critically, noting that her eyes looked slightly puffy and red, as if she’d been crying.

“I’d better get back to the kitchen,” Angie said. “If I’m not back there supervising, no telling what the customers might be served.”

“Thank you, Angie,” Lana said. “It was very thoughtful of you to write out the recipe cards for me.”

Angie beamed a happy smile, then headed back to the kitchen.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Chance asked Lana. “We don’t have to eat if you’re still feeling sick.”

“No, I’m not feeling sick anymore.” She picked up a fork and stared at it, as if unable to meet his gaze. “I just suddenly got weepy, that’s all. I guess it’s some kind of a hormonal thing.”

A hormonal thing. “Does that mean maybe you aren’t pregnant, but that your hormones are just all screwed up?” he asked.

“I really don’t know, Chance,” she said softly. “I guess we’ll have the answer when I take the test.”

They fell silent as the waitress appeared at their table to take their orders. As they waited for their food, Chance tried to figure out exactly what he felt about the possibility of her pregnancy.

On the one hand, he should be pleased that he had managed to give her what she wanted, had fulfilled his end of their bargain. On the other hand, he knew if she was now pregnant, she probably wouldn’t want him making love to her anymore.

And that thought shouldn’t bother him, after all, he’d known right from the start why she had allowed him to make love to her night after night—because she wanted a baby. There had never been any pretense of love between them. It had been a business arrangement.

But that didn’t explain the disappointment that swept through him as he thought of never again holding Lana in his arms, never again feeling her soft sighs and sweet gasps against his throat.

He found his gaze drawn to her again and again as they ate. For some reason, she appeared far lovelier now than the day she had married him.

He wasn’t sure what the difference was, only knew that there was a luminous glow to her skin, a certain knowing in her eyes, that transformed her from a sweetly attractive woman to a sexy, gorgeous, exciting woman.

“Angie told me something interesting while you were in the rest room,” he said, trying to empty his mind of thoughts of her.

“Really? What’s that?”

“She told me my mother loved the ranch, that my father quit the army and bought the place just to please my mother.” Again a sense of wonderment filled Chance as Angie’s words played in his head.

Lana studied him thoughtfully. “And you don’t remember that about your mother?”

Chance frowned. For so many years he’d consciously shoved away memories of his mother, first angry with her for dying and leaving him alone with his father, then later finding the memories simply too painful to bear.

Now he reached back into his treasure chest of memories in an attempt to retrieve all those cherished images from his childhood.

“I told you before she sang a lot. In my memories she was always smiling or laughing. I remember she had a huge garden on the side of the house and loved planting vegetables and flowers there.” He smiled, his heart suddenly filled with a warmth. “She was like a ray of sunshine. Even my dad wasn’t too bad when she was there.”

“Maybe losing her is what made your father such an angry, bitter man,” Lana observed. “If what Angie said is true, your father gave up his dream of the army life for her, then she died.”

Chance frowned. “That doesn’t excuse what he did to me over the years.”

“You’re right,” she agreed quickly. “There is no excuse for what your father did to you, but perhaps that’s an explanation.”

“Maybe,” Chance finally replied. Even trying to understand why his father had been so miserable, so cruel to him, didn’t ease any of the pain those particular memories wrought.

They finished eating, then left the café and went directly to the drugstore. Chance was amazed by the variety of pregnancy tests that were available. He picked up first one box, then another, wanting to buy the best and most accurate.

“Do you know anything about these?” he asked Lana, who was also perusing the display with a bewildered expression.

She eyed him dryly, a twinkling in her dark eyes. “I’d never had sex before you, so I certainly am not an expert on pregnancy tests.”

He wanted her then and there. An enormous desire swept through him, one greater than any he’d experienced before for her. For a brief moment it left him weak-kneed and half-breathless.

She stood there, holding a box in each hand, seemingly unaware of the volcanic want that nearly consumed him. For the first time that day, he noticed how her dress clung provocatively to her breasts, how the bright yellow color complemented her skin tones and made her eyes appear darker, mysteriously beckoning.

He grabbed one of the tests from her hand. “We’ll get this one,” he said and turned on his heels.

He was irritated with himself, wondering if his monumental desire for her at the moment was only because he knew there was a possibility he’d never possess her again.

He paid for the test, then stalked out of the drugstore, aware of Lana trailing behind him in silence.

As they walked back to his car, he cooled down, the grip of desire releasing him. He smiled at Lana, to assure her that all was okay.

She’d obviously sensed his tension, for the smile she returned to him was one of relief. Still, as they drove home, they were silent, as if the brown paper sack containing the pregnancy test on the seat between them had somehow stolen their small talk.

When they pulled down the lane that led to the ranch, for the first time in his life Chance really looked at the land and the buildings that, for the moment, were his.

The corral looked strong and sturdy and the barn looked as if it could withstand anything man or nature might throw its way. The pastures were lush, and here and there along the fences wild blackberry bushes grew.

“Do you know how to make jam?” he asked Lana suddenly.

“No, but I’m sure my mother knows how. Why?”

“I just remembered my mother and I used to walk down to those bushes and pick blackberries. She made great jam.”

He smiled as the memory came to fruition in his mind. “She’d wear a big, old floppy straw hat and we’d pick blackberries until our hands were black with the juice. We’d pick a bucket full, then eat them right off the vine. She’d laugh and tell me that she bet the Coltons, with all their money and fine things, weren’t as happy as we were just picking blackberries.”

Lana leaned toward him and placed a hand on his forearm. “I’m glad you have good memories of her, Chance. You need to hang on to those.”

He nodded and for the first time in his life wondered if perhaps he wasn’t making a mistake in selling this place and returning to his rootless, vagabond life.

Ten

How had this happened? How had something that should have filled her with such joy suddenly become a catalyst for such heartbreak?

Lana stared intently at the small test window, her heart pounding as she waited to see if a plus sign appeared.

Plus sign, you’re pregnant; minus sign you’re not. At least Chance had picked an easy test to read. Plus, you lose the man you love; minus, you lose your heart’s desire.

Even as this thought crossed her mind, she knew it wasn’t as simple as that. She couldn’t lose Chance, because she’d never really had him. For the past seven weeks, since the day she’d said “I do” to him, she might have pretended to herself that she had him, but that wasn’t reality.

She’d allowed herself to fall in love with him, to entertain a small germ of hope that he might fall in love with her. She’d allowed herself to fall into the fantasy that what they’d shared in the past seven weeks wasn’t a business deal or a bargain, but rather the solid basis for happily ever after.

Such a fool. She’d been such a fool.

Staring at the test window, she watched a bright blue plus sign appear. Her hands went to her stomach as joy fluttered through her. A baby. She closed her eyes as the thrill of her knowledge filled her.

Her sweet baby.

Chance’s beloved baby.

In less than nine months, God willing, she would give birth to a healthy, beautiful baby. In less than nine months, she would be a mother.

Tears blurred her vision and she wasn’t sure if they were tears of joy or tears of heartache. She swiped at them quickly, refusing to allow them to fall freely.

She knew Chance was waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. He was waiting to get the official results and she couldn’t let him see how she really felt. Her pride would not allow it.

She tossed the test into the wastebasket, then left the bathroom and found Chance sitting at the table. She forced a smile and gave him a thumbs-up. “Mission accomplished,” she said.

He stood, looking surprisingly ill-at-ease. “Well…that’s great. Congratulations.” He reached for her, and awkwardly they hugged. Almost immediately he stepped back from her, as if he didn’t want to touch her.

Lana looked at her watch, trying to hide her heartache. “I’ll probably have time to get packed up and get everything moved back to my apartment before dark.”

“Lana, there’s no need to rush things,” he protested. He shoved his hands in his pockets, frowning thoughtfully. “You might as well stay here at the ranch until we get you in to see a doctor and get all the details squared away.”

A reprieve, she thought. Despite the fact she knew it was foolish to put off the inevitable, she clutched on to the temporary suspension of complete and total heartbreak. “I’ll call and make a doctor’s appointment first thing in the morning,” she replied.

He nodded and again an unusual awkwardness grew between them. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he eyed the bags of cabinet hardware they’d carried in. “I guess I’ll get started on these cabinets,” he said.

“If you don’t mind, while you’re working in here, I think I’ll go visit for a little while with my mother.” Lana hadn’t seen her mom for a couple of weeks and suddenly found herself yearning for her mother’s company.

“Sure. And take your time. We can just eat leftovers for dinner.”

Moments later Lana was in her car and driving toward the Colton estate. “And take your time.” Chance’s parting words rang in her ears. Already it appeared he’d begun the separation process.

She would call the doctor in the morning and probably have an appointment by the end of the week and then she would have to figure out not only how to distance herself from Chance physically, but emotionally as well.

Within minutes the Colton home came into view. The enormous house perched high above the Pacific, with a terra-cotta-tiled roof and covered porches with thick columns. Impressive and quietly elegant, the house spoke of wealth and power.

The outbuildings she passed before reaching the circular drive of the main house were neat and attractive and told of a thriving, successful ranch.

She pulled around the circle drive, then parked and got out. There had been a time long ago when everyone used the front door, often greeted by the warm, gracious Meredith herself.

But those days were long gone and Lana walked around to the side door, where most of the deliveries were made.

Her mother answered the door. “Lana,” she exclaimed, her dark eyes flashing with delight. “Come in, come in. I was just taking a little break with a cup of coffee.”

The Colton kitchen was huge, yet Lana felt at home as her mother led her to the long table where the people who worked for the Coltons and sometimes the two youngest children ate their meals. “How about a cup of coffee?” Inez asked once Lana was settled at the table.

“No, thanks, Mama. I’m fine.” To Lana’s horror, she burst into tears.

Instantly Inez was at her side, her plump arms pulling Lana into an embrace. The familiar comfort of her mother’s arms only made Lana cry harder.

“What is it, child?” Inez asked, a touch of fear radiating in her voice. “Are you hurt? Ill? Has something bad happened?”

Lana attempted to pull herself together, not wanting to frighten her mom. She moved out of Inez’s embrace and swiped her tears with her fingertips. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing disastrous. I’m pregnant.” The words blurted out of her with a renewed stream of tears.

Inez sat back in her chair and frowned. “But I thought this marriage to Chance wasn’t a real marriage. I thought it was just to help him inherit the ranch.”

Lana realized it was time to tell her mother the whole truth, the entire bargain she’d made with Chance. In halting words, she explained the situation and with each word her mother’s frown etched deeper into her forehead.

“Oh, Lana, what would make you agree to such a thing?” Inez said when Lana had confessed all.

“I wanted to be a mother. I wanted a baby more than anything in the world.”

“Then why are you sad? It seems you got exactly what you wanted.”

Inez searched her daughter’s face for a long moment, then sighed in obvious comprehension. “Ah, Lana, you played a dangerous game with your heart, and it appears it’s a game you have lost.”

Lana nodded miserably. She realized now she should have followed through on her original plan to be artificially inseminated. It was difficult to fall in love with a sterile needle.

“And so Chance has his ranch and you have your baby. What happens now?”

Lana shrugged. “Chance told me I can remain at the ranch until I see a doctor. Probably by the end of this week I’ll be moving back to my apartment.” Once again misery rose up inside her.

Inez’s dark eyes shone with her disapproval. “You should have told me the truth from the very beginning. Perhaps I might have been able to talk you out of it.”

“I thought I could handle it,” Lana said softly.

“Honey, I saw the way you looked at Chance when you were nothing more than a child. That boy had your heart before you were old enough to understand the ways of love. Your father and I used to lie awake nights worrying because you loved him so, and you were so young and so vulnerable.”

“I didn’t realize I was still so vulnerable where he was concerned.” Lana sighed. “I love him, Mama. I love him more than I ever thought possible.”

“And how does Chance feel about you?”

Lana frowned. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “He’s so difficult to read.”

Inez nodded. “He was always closed off from every emotion other than his anger at his father. Tom Reilly scarred that boy deeply. He should have rejoined the army and left that boy to foster care instead of punishing Chance for his existence.”

“I think someplace deep inside I hoped that my love could heal those scars,” Lana admitted.

“You can’t heal his scars, Lana. Only Chance can heal himself.”

Lana knew her mother was right. She’d hoped somehow she could love Chance enough that he would be able to forget the painful memories the ranch house contained, that he would be able to open his heart to loving both that place…and ultimately her.

But at no time during the past seven weeks that they’d had together had he indicated any desire to change the terms of their original agreement.

Lana drew a deep breath and forced a smile of assurance to her lips. “I’ll be all right.”

“Well, of course you will,” Inez agreed somberly. “You are a Ramirez and that means you’re strong.” Inez reached across the table and took Lana’s hand in hers. “And you have a family that will stand behind you and support you as you raise your child.” She squeezed Lana’s hand reassuringly.

Although her mother’s words couldn’t begin to assuage the pain that ached deep inside Lana’s heart, there was a certain comfort knowing she would really never be alone. As long as she had her parents and her sister, her child would be secure in love and devotion from the extended family.

Both women looked up as the kitchen door flew open and Meredith Colton stalked in. She was impeccably clad in an ice-blue Versace trouser suit that complemented her dramatically blond-streaked hair and her shapely figure.

She would have looked stunning if not for the angry press of her lips and the glittering hardness of her brown eyes.

“Inez, I must tell you the meal last night was completely unacceptable.” Meredith didn’t even acknowledge Lana’s presence with a nod or a flicker of her eyes.

Inez stood, her expression one of studied dignity. “Could you be a little more specific, Mrs. Colton?”

Meredith’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared slightly. “The chicken was overcooked, the vegetables were undercooked. The rolls were hard and the pastries were chewy. The centerpiece was wilted and there was a spot on the tablecloth. Is that specific enough for you?”

Lana felt her mother bristle beneath the imperious tone, but Inez merely nodded. “I’ll see that tonight’s dinner is perfect.”

“Good, I absolutely refuse to put up with shoddy work.” Meredith said, then turned on her heels and disappeared from the kitchen.

“That witch,” Lana exclaimed angrily. “Why do you stay here, Mama? Why do you put up with her?”

A shadow of pain swept over Inez’s dark eyes. “I stay because I remember the loving, warm woman she was before. And I stay for Joe and the rest of the family.”

Lana’s burst of anger seeped out of her. “I wonder what happened to make such a change in her. She used to be so kind, such a wonderful person.”

Inez frowned. “I don’t know what happened to her. Who knows? Disillusionment, broken dreams… Nobody can know what makes a body so miserable.”

Later, as Lana drove back to the ranch, she thought about Meredith Colton and wondered what had happened to the woman she’d once been.

Somehow thoughts of Meredith and her unhappiness shifted to thoughts of Chance. If for some reason they would remain together, would Chance become a miserable, unhappy, hateful man, trapped into a place where he didn’t want to be?

Was that what had happened to Chance’s father? After Sarge Reilly’s wife had died, had he longed to leave the ranch and rejoin the army only he couldn’t because he had the responsibility of Chance?

It was ridiculous to speculate. If Chance had been willing to make a real go of their marriage, he would have already talked to her about that, he would have told her he loved her.

As she turned into the lane that led to the ranch, she felt the bittersweet warmth of a homecoming. After seven weeks, this place felt more like home than her apartment where she had lived for the past five years.

She knew that feeling of home came not from the structure and the land, but rather from Chance himself. Anywhere Chance was would feel like home to her.

A renewed wave of grief swept through her and she fought against it, knowing it was time for her to be strong and prepare to tell Chance Reilly goodbye.



Patsy Portman paced the lush carpeting in the master bedroom of the Colton estate. The cell phone in her pocket banged against her hip as she walked back and forth, her mind racing.

There was only one person who had the number to this particular cell phone…one man who she had been waiting to hear from for the past week. She was waiting to hear from the man who she had hired to kill Emily Blair Colton.

Silas Pike had called her the week before and told her he’d finally gotten a lead on Emily and was headed to a small town in Montana. Patsy had told him not to call her again until the deed was done.

What could be taking so long? How difficult could it be to get rid of one young woman who was all alone in a strange town?

Over the past ten years Patsy had done everything possible to make certain nobody could discover that she was not Meredith. The only loose end there had ever been was Emily.

Emily—a pain-in-the-ass nuisance who couldn’t leave things alone.

Initially, immediately after the car wreck and the switch of identities, Emily had suffered nightmares and talked about two mommies. But she’d been young enough that nobody had paid much attention to her wild stories about that fateful day on the highway.

As she’d gotten older and her nightmares continued, along with flashes of memories of that day, Emily had become a direct threat to Patsy.

Emily could destroy the charade that Patsy had so carefully constructed. Emily could make sure that Patsy was cast out from the lavish lifestyle as a Colton.

There was no way Patsy was going to let that happen. She loved being Meredith Colton with all the power and privileges that came with that title.

It didn’t matter to her that her “loving” husband, Joe, had nothing to do with her, could barely stand looking at her. She didn’t need him. All she wanted from him was his name and his money.

Through the years they had come to an agreement of sorts. He didn’t bother her, preferring the company of his children, and she was allowed to live her own life. And she wasn’t about to let that little twit Emily ruin it all for her.

Patsy still had things to do—like find her daughter, Jewel, the baby who’d been stolen from her mere hours after her birth.

She walked over to the expanse of windows that looked out over ragged cliffs that eventually led to the ocean below. Her hands closed into fists at her sides. She had worked hard to gain her place here, had plotted and planned so she would be in a position to steal Meredith’s identity.

She should have pushed Emily over one of the balconies years ago. She should never have left the job to somebody else.

Silas “Snake Eyes” Pike. She’d met the man in a rough bar in L.A. while she was on her way to a stay at a spa in southern California. After making some subtle inquiries among some of the toughest, most disreputable-looking men she’d ever met, she’d decided Pike was the man to hire.

She’d found him surprisingly open about his background on the first night they had met. He’d told her about his abusive alcoholic father who had beaten his Native American mother to death, thrusting Silas into the foster care system where he’d quickly turned to a life of crime.

He’d bragged to her about his prison time served for car theft and armed robbery and boasted he’d made hits on all kinds of people from all walks of life.

Patsy hadn’t cared about his past, she only wanted to know that he could deliver what he promised.

She’d told him what she wanted done, had paid him half of a promised fee, then had continued on to the spa, assured that her problem would be resolved within days.

But days had turned to weeks, and weeks into months and Silas Pike had yet to deliver. Patsy was beginning to think she’d hired Mr. Screwup instead of Mr. Snake Eyes.

She’d give him another week, then if she had to, she’d take a little trip to Montana and make certain Emily didn’t have an opportunity to screw up the life Patsy had made for herself.

Eleven

“Mrs. Reilly? The doctor will see you now.”

Chance stood up as the nurse spoke to Lana, unsure what his role in this whole thing should be. Should he go back into the examining room with her? Should he stay out here in the waiting room?

Lana made the decision for him. She stood, shot him a nervous smile and told him she would return in a few minutes. Chance sat back down, trying to tamp down the nervous energy that ripped through him.

He was certain she was pregnant. She had all the signs, and the home test had indicated that she was, but it wouldn’t seem real until a doctor gave them the official word.

It had been three days since she’d taken the test. Three nights that they had slept in the same bed, but hadn’t touched each other in any way. Chance had felt he might explode from wanting her, but he had fulfilled his duty and therefore felt he had no right to touch her, to make love to her anymore.

There had been a strained awkwardness between them. They were overly polite, like two strangers sharing intimate space but afraid of trespassing into each other’s territory. Chance was almost sorry she’d taken the damn home pregnancy test. He almost wished things could go back to the way they had been.

He stood and began to pace, unable to sit while his head whirled with confusing thoughts. He didn’t want to be married to Lana, and yet he enjoyed being married to Lana. He hated the ranch and yet had been reluctant to contact a Realtor and put the ball into motion to sell the place.

What was wrong with him? Why was he so conflicted in so many areas of his life when he’d always been so confident, so positive of the choices he had made in his life up until now?

“Mr. Reilly?” A nurse appeared at the door that led back to the examining rooms. “Could you come back with me, please?”

A flutter of fear swept through him. Was something wrong? Why would they want him back there? Fear crashed through him.

He hurriedly followed the nurse and was led to an examining room where Lana sat on the edge of a table, clad in a hospital gown that she somehow made look like a designer dress.

“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly when the nurse had left them alone in the room.

“I don’t think anything is wrong. Dr. Hastings has already examined me and told me everything looks fine.”

“So, it’s official. You’re pregnant,” Chance said.

She nodded. “He said to expect a June baby.” She smiled, a sweet dreamy expression on her face. “That’s a wonderful month to have a baby, isn’t it?”

A June baby. That meant she must have gotten pregnant on one of the first nights they’d been married. All the lovemaking they’d shared, all the intimacy they’d developed over the last seven weeks, hadn’t been necessary after the first week or so.

Chance turned toward the door as Dr. Hastings walked back into the room. “Chance.” The old doctor held a hand out. “Congratulations, my boy. It appears you’re going to be a father.”

Chance shook his hand and murmured his thanks. “So, everything seems normal?” he asked.

“As normal as Mother Nature makes things.” Dr. Hastings turned to a cabinet and withdrew an instrument, then grinned at Chance. “I thought you might want to be here when we listen to the heartbeat.” He motioned for Lana to lie down on the table, then flipped a switch and began to move the instrument across her lower tummy.

“Just a minute…just a minute…there!”

The room filled with the rhythmic sound of a heartbeat. Lana closed her eyes, a beatific smile on her lips, and Chance felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise in absolute wonder.

Dr. Hastings frowned and moved the instrument again. “What have we here?” he said as another heartbeat resounded. “I hear three distinct rhythms.”

Lana’s eyes flew open. “Three?” she said.

“Three?” Chance echoed in confusion.

Dr. Hastings removed the instrument and grinned at them. “Three,” he repeated. “One of them is Lana’s, the other two are babies.”

“Two?” Lana whispered softly.

“Two?” Chance reached for the empty chair nearby and sank down as comprehension dawned. “Twins?”

“You got it,” Dr. Hastings replied. “I guess double congratulations are in order.”

Chance was numb with shock. He tried to focus on Hastings’s words as he discussed a prescription for prenatal vitamins, the need for Lana to take it easy, and the importance of her eating right.

But focusing on the white-haired doctor’s words was difficult when his mind was still working to accept the fact that Lana was going to have twins. Two babies. Twins.

“Sex is okay as long as you don’t attempt to hang from a chandelier or something more adventurous,” Dr. Hastings finished.

“I don’t think you have to worry about anything like that,” Lana replied with a pink stain to her cheeks.

Dr. Hastings laughed. “No, I didn’t think so.” He turned and looked at Chance. “Just take her home and take care of her. She mentioned some morning sickness. You might want to bring her a couple of crackers before she gets out of bed. Sometimes that helps. Other than that, just enjoy this magical time.”

A moment later Dr. Hastings left the room and Lana sat up, her gaze steady on Chance. “Do you have twins in your family?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. What about you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” She slid off the table and reached for her clothes.

“I’ll just wait for you outside,” Chance said, exiting the room before she could take off the gown. Since the day of her home pregnancy test, they had gone back to their privacy when dressing.

Chance returned to the waiting room, congratulated by everyone he passed on his way there. Everyone seemed so happy, as if twins were a wonderful blessing. He thought it was an absolute disaster.

How on earth did Lana intend to manage two babies? He’d heard that one could be quite difficult, crying at all times of the day and night, needing to be fed and changed, rocked and loved.

He clenched his hands. This hadn’t been their bargain. He’d agreed to give her one baby, not two. Someplace in the back of his mind, he knew he was thinking irrationally. She hadn’t intentionally gotten pregnant with twins.

Still, he couldn’t help but worry and that hadn’t been part of the deal, either. He had intended to walk away from her without a backward thought or concern. He wasn’t supposed to be worried about her, afraid for her. She’d promised him no messy emotions, but at the moment his emotions were definitely a mess.

She returned to the waiting room and went directly to the receptionist desk to make another appointment, then together they walked out of the office building.

“Isn’t it wonderful,” she said, eyes shining brightly, as they walked down the sidewalk toward his car.

“Wonderful isn’t exactly the word I would use.”

She stopped walking and faced him, happiness lighting her features, making her so beautiful he ached with wanting her. “It’s like a miracle,” she said. “I was worried that any baby I had would be an only child. I knew after this deal with you was finished, I’d probably never have any more children. But now there will be a sibling—a twin.” She tenderly touched her stomach.

“Lana, you aren’t thinking clearly,” he said, not wanting to upset her, but feeling as if she needed a dose of reality. “How on earth do you intend to manage two babies all alone?”

Her eyes were clear, her expression radiating that strength that he found so appealing. “Don’t you worry, I’ll manage these babies with love.” She turned and continued down the sidewalk.

He followed behind her more slowly, wondering if along with pregnancy came delusional thinking. “Do you have your prescription for those vitamins?” he asked when they were back in his car.

“Yes, but I can pick them up later this week.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he replied tersely. “We’ll pick them up now.” He backed out of the space where he’d been parked and headed down the street toward the drugstore. “Are you sure there aren’t any twins in your family?” Although he hadn’t intended it, there was a slightly accusatory tone to his voice.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re spoiling for a fight with me?”

He looked at her in surprise. “What makes you think that?”

“The expression on your face, the look in your eyes. Tell the truth. You’re angry because there are two.”

“That’s crazy,” he protested, even though he knew deep in his heart she was right.

“Yes, it is crazy.” Her eyes flashed with fire and Chance realized it was the very first time he’d ever seen her angry. “I didn’t plan this, but I consider it a blessing, a gift from God.” She glared at him, as if daring him to say anything to the contrary. “Don’t worry, Chance. Nothing has changed. Our agreement still stands.”

Whatever he’d been about to say fled his mind as he realized he liked the fact that she was meeting him with anger, putting him in his place and standing up for herself and the babies she carried.

What he realized was he had been attempting to pick a fight with her, needing to release some of the energy that surged inside him.

But the truth was, he didn’t want to fight, he wanted to hold her in his arms and make love to her sweetly and gently.

The past four nights of not making love to her had caused a pressure to build inside him, a pressure he didn’t understand, one that frightened him just a little. He’d gone for weeks, sometimes months, between women before, so why should a mere four nights bother him?

He pulled up in front of the drugstore and turned to Lana. The midmorning sun shone through the car window, dousing her features with light.

She was beautiful, and again his mind filled with a vision of her four months from now, six months from now. Her belly would be rounded with the babies and he was certain she would look impossibly beautiful.

It was far too easy to visualize the two of them in bed at night, the skin of her protruding stomach soft beneath his fingers as he rubbed lotion on the growing mound to prevent stretch marks. It was far too easy to imagine sitting on the front porch and good-naturedly arguing over names for the babies.

Why did he still want her, when his job was done, his duty fulfilled? He could smell the scent of her, that subtle floral fragrance that made his blood rush too fast inside his veins.

He felt the need for some space from her, the need to escape his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about babies and names, or Lana. “Do you have the prescription?”

She nodded and unclasped her seat belt.

“You don’t have to get out,” he said. “I’ll run in and get it.”

She hesitated a moment, then acquiesced and pulled the prescription from her purse.

“Lana,” he began thoughtfully. “You know there’s really no reason for you to leave the ranch until it’s sold.”

“There’s really no point in me remaining there,” she countered, her voice soft, yet emotionless.

“I don’t want you in your apartment by yourself while you’re having morning sickness. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Then I’ll stay until the ranch is sold,” she agreed after a moment of hesitation.

“Good. I’ll be right back,” he said and quickly made his escape.

Inside the drugstore, Chance handed the prescription to the druggist, then wandered the aisles while he waited for the prescription to be filled.

His entire world had been shaken up by the information that Lana was carrying twins and he knew he still hadn’t fully assessed the ramifications of the news.

“Don’t worry, Chance. Nothing has changed. Our agreement still stands.” Lana’s words whirled around and around in his head.

It was obvious she was thrilled with the whole development. She didn’t seem to have any doubts about her capacity to single-handedly parent two babies.

She apparently hadn’t thought about the fact that few men were willing to take on a divorcee with a child, and even fewer men would be willing to take on a divorcee with two children. By agreeing to this arrangement he might be responsible for Lana spending the rest of her life alone.

And she certainly hadn’t indicated in any way that she would like it if he stuck around. And why should she want him to stick around? He was a loser, a nothing, a man who wasn’t a keeper.

The best thing he could do for her was walk away. Walk away before he ruined her life and the lives of her babies.

As the druggist called his name, he walked back to the counter and paid for the prescription. At the same time he came to a decision. First thing in the morning he would go to one of the Realtors in town and put the ranch on the market. It was time.



Running. Running. Emily tore through brush, whipped around trees, and always, always when she looked behind her Snake Eyes Pike was there. She knew if she ran fast enough, safety lay in the small cottage just ahead. Toby would be there to protect her.

The wind that surrounded her as she ran was cold, and the tree branches reached out with gnarled limbs as if to impede her forward progress. Her breaths came in short gasps as she struggled to stay ahead of the danger behind.

She yelled triumphantly as she reached the cottage and flung open the front door. “Toby!” she called, knowing the handsome lawman would let nobody harm her.

Toby cared about her. He was strong and good, and he wouldn’t let Snake Eyes get her. He’d protect her. He’d save her.

Then she saw him. Toby. Dead on the floor in front of her. The front of his shirt was soaked with his blood and to her horror he sat up, eyes staring at her accusingly. “This is all your fault,” he said.

Emily jerked awake and for a moment sheer panic coursed through her before she realized the horrid images had been part of a dream.

She was no longer in the woods. She was no longer even in Wyoming. But Toby was still dead. Tears oozed down her cheeks as grief ripped through Emily. Toby was dead and it was all her fault.

If only she hadn’t encouraged the handsome lawman’s friendship, if only she had warned him by telling him the truth about herself. If only…if only. Guilt coupled with her grief, momentarily overwhelming her. It would have been better if Snake Eyes Pike had killed her instead of shooting the sweet, loving, protective Toby.

She wept until there were no tears left to fall, until she felt as if every drop of moisture had been cried from her body. Finally, she sat up and thought back over the past three days.

After Toby had died and she had run out of the little cottage, she’d made her way to the highway, but had been too afraid to step out of the brush and flag down a car. Her anguish over Toby had been shoved deep inside, her instinct for survival had been first and foremost in her mind.

It wasn’t until the early dawn that she finally got up her nerve to leave the safety of the brush and venture out closer to the highway. She knew she couldn’t go to Wyatt, or back to Montana, but she had to run, to escape the nightmare. She’d flagged down an eighteen-wheeler and had hitched a ride to the nearest airport, where she’d managed to buy a ticket to Washington D.C.

She’d called her eldest brother, Rand, from the D.C. airport, sobbing into the phone, and within an hour, she was in his car and headed for his luxury town house.

There, she was introduced to his new wife, Lucy, and his stepson, a precocious, five-year-old Max. After Max was in bed that evening, Emily told Rand and Lucy what had happened with Snake Eyes Pike and Toby.

Even though they tried to comfort her, assuring her that none of it was her fault and they were just grateful she was safe, there was no solace in their words.

Emily’s despair was so abysmal, she knew no words would ever, could ever make her feel better. A man had died because of her, and a part of her had died along with him.

Wearily, despite her long nap, she pulled herself out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, wondering how it was possible that she looked the same as she had before the tragedy.

Why hadn’t her long mane of chestnut-red hair turned white with the fright of the trauma? Why hadn’t her blue eyes dulled from the profound ache in her heart? Why did she still look so normal when she now had the burden of a man’s death wrapped like a thousand-pound weight around her heart?

Tears once again welled up inside her and she tried to shove them aside. She couldn’t stop crying. She’d been here almost two days and still she couldn’t stop the tears that seemed to have an inexhaustible source.

Swiping at her cheeks, she drew a deep breath in an attempt to steady her chaotic emotions. She didn’t want to frighten little Max with her continuous crying.

She left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen and there she found Rand, Lucy and Max preparing for the evening meal.

“Emily!” Lucy immediately rushed to her side. “You’re just in time for dinner. We didn’t know whether to wake you or let you nap.”

Emily smiled at the pretty woman. Although they’d only known each other a brief time, Emily already felt the warmth of friendship and a familial connection. “Thanks. I think I’m all napped out.”

“Come and sit,” Rand said and pointed to the chair next to Max.

“I was quiet as a mouse while you were napping,” Max observed soberly.

Emily smiled at the little boy. He was a doll, with his straight, dark brown hair, his big blue eyes and the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. The eyeglasses he wore somehow only added to his appeal. “And I truly appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she said.

Max nodded with a grown-up air. It had taken Emily only minutes with the little boy to realize he was quite bright and seemed far older than he really was.

“How are you doing?” Rand asked, his blue eyes boring into hers.

“I’m all right,” she replied, her voice shakier than she would have liked and her eyes once again burning with the press of tears.

Rand covered her hand with his. “We’ll get through this,” he said firmly. “You just wait and see. Everything is going to be just fine.”

“Just fine and dandy,” Max added and they all laughed.

As they ate, Emily tried not to think about Toby, but thoughts of him kept intruding. Had somebody found him? What a devastating thing his death would be for his brother, Josh.

Emily knew that Toby and Josh’s mother had died when Toby was young and their father had been an alcoholic. Josh had raised his younger brother and the two had been extremely close. Did he even know yet that the brother he’d raised, the brother he loved, was dead?

“I spoke to the authorities in Keyhole,” Rand said, almost as if he’d read Emily’s thoughts. “You don’t have to worry about Silas Pike any longer. He was found in the woods outside the cottage and is now in the jail infirmary recovering from a leg wound.”

Lucy cleared her throat, as if to remind Rand that Max was at the table, listening to each and every word of the conversation.

Emily knew Rand meant the words to be comforting, but all she could think about was how unfair it was that Silas Pike would recover, and sweet, gentle Toby would not.

“Has Pike said anything?” she asked, wondering if he’d admitted that he’d been hired to kill her.

Rand shook his head. “So far, the man isn’t saying a word, but he’s going to be charged with homicide and I imagine it won’t be long before he’s singing to anyone who might listen.”

Emily nodded and returned her focus to her food, although she had no appetite. She couldn’t eat. Her heart was so heavy in her chest, she felt that if she took a bite and tried to swallow she might be violently ill.

They had finished eating and Emily had just helped Lucy with the dishes when the phone rang. Rand answered it in his office, then brought the receiver to Emily. “It’s Mother,” he said as he gave her the phone.

Emily clutched the receiver to her ear. “Mama?”

“Sparrow.” The familiar voice and the childhood nickname released the tears Emily had been trying so desperately to hold back.

“Mama,” she sobbed, wishing Meredith was here to hold her, to somehow take away the pain as only a mother could.

“Rand told me what happened and I am so glad you weren’t hurt,” Meredith said.

“But, Toby…” Again Emily was overwhelmed with weeping.

“It’s going to be all right, my precious Sparrow. I’m going to fly there tomorrow, then together we’re all going to go home. Back to the ranch, back where we all belong.”

Emily clutched at her mother’s words, hoping, praying it was as easy as her mother had made it sound. Back to the ranch. Home.



Meredith replaced the receiver and turned to look at Dr. Wilkes. “And so, I’ll be leaving for Washington D.C. first thing in the morning.”

Martha Wilkes smiled, her beautiful ebony features radiating strength. “How do you feel about going back to Prosperino and your family?”

“Scared to death,” Meredith admitted. She was frightened, frightened of going back and facing the twin sister who had so wronged her and she was frightened of trying to pick up the pieces of a life in which she’d been ten years absent. “I still don’t have all my memories, but I can’t put this off any longer.”

“Because of what happened to Emily?” Dr. Wilkes asked. Meredith had shared with the psychiatrist the events that had happened in Keyhole.

Meredith nodded, her heart aching for the child who had been left behind on the day of the accident so long ago, a child who had grown into a young woman and had just suffered an enormous trauma. “She needs me now. Not next week, not next month, but right now. Besides, it’s time.” Meredith lifted her chin. “It’s time I go back to Prosperino and reclaim what is mine.”

Dr. Wilkes reached out and grabbed Meredith’s hands. “You’ll be fine, Meredith. I have to tell you, it’s been a pleasure knowing you and working with you. You are one of the strongest women I’ve ever met and I’ve come not only to like you, but to respect you.”

Tears burned at Meredith’s eyes as she squeezed Martha’s hands. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Martha smiled. “You would have survived, and eventually you would have come to the place where you are now. Go home and take back what was stolen from you. Embrace the family who might have momentarily left your mind, but never left your heart. And stay in touch.”

“I will,” Meredith promised as she released the doctor’s hands. “I’ll call and let you know how things are going.” Impulsively, she threw her arms around the woman who had been instrumental in returning her identity to her. “Thank you, Dr. Wilkes,” she said, then quickly left the office before her tears could fall.

As Meredith drove away from the office that had become like a second home to her, her mind whirled with the enormity of what lay ahead.

Every day another piece of her memory returned, some of those pieces happy, some of them sad. She’d remembered the joy of her first child’s birth, remembered the feeling of intense love that had swept through her when Rand was first placed in her arms. And she’d wept when the memory of her son Michael’s death had resurfaced. Michael, one of twin boys, had been killed by a drunk driver when he’d been riding his bicycle.

There was only one deep blank place in Meredith’s memory. She could remember the feel of her husband’s arms around her. Her mind had retrieved the gentleness of his touches and the laughter they had often shared. But Joe’s face remained a blank. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember her husband’s appearance. And that worried her.

Was there some reason why his facial features remained elusive to her? What had Patsy managed to do to the marriage Meredith had shared with Joe?

If only she had told Joe years ago about Patsy. Patsy’s life had been troubled for years. Her past included a child born out of wedlock and a second-degree murder conviction for killing the baby’s father in a scuffle.

When Meredith had first met Joe Colton, she’d been too ashamed to tell him about her sister. Besides, Meredith had promised her mother she would never tell anyone about Patsy and the scandal of her conviction.

Still, as Meredith and Joe grew closer, Meredith longed to tell the truth to the man she loved, but as the years passed and the timing never seemed right, the secret got more difficult to confess. She knew now that if she had told Joe about Patsy, Patsy would have never been able to steal Meredith’s life.

She pulled her car in front of her house. Tonight would be the last night she would sleep in this place. Tomorrow night she would be at Rand’s in Washington D.C. and after that, God willing, she would finally, truly be home.