Lana's Lawman (3 page)

“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. And 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, undaunted. 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 cheerleader 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 newlyweds 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.”

“Oh. Well, I'm sure someone will—”

“I'll give you a ride. If you can wait a few minutes while I get these cars out of the parking lot.”

“I should hurry,” she argued, looking around her worriedly as the church cleared out. “They want to take pictures.”

“They'll wait five minutes.” He strained his facial muscles into a smile, all the while wondering why he was making this effort. It wasn't like he owed her anything.

He fully expected a cool rebuff. Instead, she smiled back, and his heart did a little somersault. “All right,” she said, her teeth worrying her lower lip in an uncalculated gesture of nerves. “I'll wait for you here.”

Sloan paced nervously as he directed traffic, feeling alternately anxious and foolish for making anything out of Lana's need for a ride. What was he, a masochist? He'd sworn he would never let his hormones override his common sense again, and so far he'd managed to keep that promise. But his hormones were sneaky bastards. He'd forgotten just how willful they could be.