Pregnant In Prosperino. Carla Cassidy
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he was too ill to be much of a bother to anyone.” She placed a slender hand on his arm. “I heard about the will.”
He looked at her in surprise. He’d only learned about the terms of his father’s will no more than half an hour ago. It was what had driven him out of the house and here, to his father’s side to curse the man who had given him life.
“Walter Bishop might be a fine lawyer, but he sometimes talks too much,” she said, referring to the man who had been one of Tom Reilly’s few friends and the family lawyer. “But don’t worry,” she hurriedly added. “As far as I know, he only talked to me. He assumed I already knew what Tom had done in the will.”
“I didn’t want this place anyway,” Chance said, anger welling up once again as he recognized the partial lie in his own words. “Hell, it would take months of work to repair everything and get it back into good shape.”
He hadn’t wanted to live on the ranch ever again. Too many bad memories resided here. But he’d assumed he’d inherit the ranch, then fix it up and sell it and finally start a business of his own.
Lana dropped her hand from his arm. “But your father’s will doesn’t preclude you from inheriting it.”
“According to the will, I have to be married in order to inherit. Here’s a news flash for you, Lana— I’m not married. I never intend to be married, so it looks like this place will go to charity instead of to me.”
He swept a hand through his hair and drew a deep breath. “What about you? What are you going to do now that my father is gone?”
“I need to pack up some things that are still here, then I’ll go back to my apartment in town and wait for another job.”
Lana had been living on the Reilly ranch for the past six months, ever since Tom suffered the first of a series of strokes. “If you need references, you know I’ll be glad to write you up something,” he said.
She nodded and he noticed a strand of her thick, black hair had escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck. It looked silky soft as it blew across the side of her face. “What are you going to do now?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Go back to the life I’ve been living.” Before this moment, he thought he loved his life.
Selling farm equipment around the country, he traveled most of the time, never calling any one place home. He’d become adept at finding the best food, the nicest rooms in the small towns he traveled to, and never had a problem finding a warm, willing woman for a night’s pleasure.
At the moment he felt nothing but weariness as he thought of going back to that particular lifestyle. “How’s your family?” he asked, stalling the moment he’d have to return to the house and all the memories that resided within those four walls. “It was nice of your parents to come today. Are they still working for the Coltons?”
“Yes, I can’t imagine them doing anything else. Mama and Dad love the Colton family.” A tiny frown appeared in the center of her forehead.
“But…?”
She shook her head as if to dismiss whatever thought had caused the wrinkle to appear. “Maya got married. She married Drake Colton.”
“Really?” The news surprised Chance.
“Yes, and they have a beautiful six-month-old baby girl.”
“So that makes you an aunt,” he said.
“Yes, it does.” She smiled, as if being an aunt pleased her immensely.
The mention of marriage once again stirred his anger. He turned toward the house. “Guess I’d better get back inside.” He took several steps, but paused as she once again placed a hand on his arm.
“Wait,” she said. He turned and faced her expectantly, surprised to see a faint blush of color on her cheeks. “Your father’s will…it just says you have to be married to inherit. It doesn’t say anything about you having to stay married, right?”
“Yeah, so all I need is a temporary wife. You know anyone who might want to apply for the job?” he asked sarcastically.
The pink of her cheeks deepened. “Me.”
Surprise swept through him and he stared at her wordlessly for a long moment. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he finally scoffed and started to walk again.
She quickly fell in beside him, her long legs almost matching his stride. “Why is it ridiculous?” she asked. “This ranch should be yours, Chance. I’ll do it, I’ll be your temporary wife so you can inherit.”
He stopped walking and turned to her once again, utterly bewildered by her offer. “And why would you do something like that? What do you get out of the bargain?”
Maybe she figured to marry him then when he sold the ranch she’d get half the profit, he thought. What other possible reason could she have for suggesting such a crazy scheme?
She drew a deep breath and he was suddenly aware of the press of her shapely breasts against the silk material of her white blouse. “A baby.”
“A baby?” he echoed with shock. “My God, Lana, if that’s what you want, fall in love and get married, have babies and live happily ever after.”
She frowned. “Chance, I’m thirty-one years old. I’m not dating anyone and I have no plans to marry, but I want a child.” She raised her chin as her dark gaze held his and in the depths of her dark eyes he saw her strength. The same strength he’d always found attractive in her in years past.
“Lana—”
“Think about it, Chance,” she continued, her low voice ringing with a surprising boldness. “It would be perfect. We get married. You get your ranch and I get pregnant. Once we both have what we want, we divorce. No strings attached, no messy emotions.”
Chance shook his head, trying to reconcile the woman before him with the shy, sweet young girl who’d been his confidante in one of the most difficult years of his life.
“Lana, I appreciate the offer, but I think working for my father these last few months has made you plumb loco. I can’t marry you.” He didn’t intend to marry anyone. Again anger tore at him—anger at his father, who was, even from the grave, attempting to pull strings to control his life.
“It’s a crazy idea and this is the end of this discussion.” Without waiting for her reply, he stalked toward the house and the waiting guests.
She was crazy, she must be crazy to have even suggested such an idea. Lana’s cheeks burned hot with humiliation as she followed Chance toward the house.
What had she been thinking? What had possibly possessed her to suggest such a thing? Chance disappeared into the front door of the house, but Lana stopped on the porch, not wanting to return to the crowd inside until she was completely composed and the warmth of her embarrassment wasn’t shining on her cheeks.
She sank down into one of the two wicker rockers. She knew what she’d been thinking when she’d made the offer. She’d been thinking of the sweet baby scent of her niece, of the cuddly warmth of her in Lana’s arms. Since the time of Marissa’s birth, Lana had been filled with a yearning for her own baby.
Being over thirty and with no man in her life, she had heard the faint ticking of her biological clock more than once on a lonely night.
Before she’d heard about the terms of Tom Reilly’s will, she’d been thinking about artificial insemination. Becoming a single parent didn’t frighten her. In the best of worlds, she would have met and married a man who loved her and whom she loved, but in the real world, there was no hint of any prospective husband on the horizon.
The moment she’d heard about Chance’s problem, she’d gotten the idea of a temporary marriage with him. She wanted desperately to be a mother, and who better to be the father than a man like Chance, a man who would never settle down, never demand