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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He couldn’t depend on much of anything else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  “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.

  Lana sat in the front seat this time. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the man sitting next to her. He hadn’t seemed any too friendly on their trip to the church. Kind of bristly, actually. Then why had he gone out of his way to offer her another ride? And should she have accepted?

  The past year she’d fought hard for her independence. When she’d first announced to Bart that she was leaving, she’d been seized with second thoughts every hour or so. She’d never supported herself, much less herself and a little boy. What skills did she have? Every time an appliance went on the fritz or her car needed work, she’d longed for a man to help her with all those little things.

  But Callie and Millicent assisted her through her crises large and small. Somewhere along the line she learned that she could do things for herself—argue about car repairs, juggle the bills, make decisions about her son’s discipline. She got skillful at budgeting, stretching her paycheck to cover church camp and an occasional new outfit for herself. And somewhere along the line she stopped yearning for a man to rely on for support and companionship. She stopped calling Bart and enduring his belittling comments about her inadequacies just to find out how to flip a breaker switch or change an A/C filter.

  She learned to value her own company above anyone else’s.

  The last thing she needed was a new man in her life. She would do well to remember that, no matter how her body was reacting to the virile male sitting beside her, his powerful-looking muscles straining the sleeves of the crisp blue policeman’s uniform, his dark hair curled into unruliness by the damp weather.

  “So, how’d you end up as a cop?” Lana asked, genuinely curious. Sloan Bennett would have been voted Most Likely to End Up in the Pen by their senior class if there had been such a category.

  Sloan visibly tensed, and she wondered if she’d somehow managed to offend him once again. But then he seemed to relax, and a brief smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “I guess I owe it all to Nicole Johnson.”

  Lana felt a sudden tension herself. She certainly hadn’t meant to get into a discussion about her. “You mean the police chief’s daughter?” she asked casually.

  “That’s the one. We were … close friends for a while. I got to know her father. He … straightened me out, convinced me to try life on the right side of the law.” The headlights of oncoming cars revealed a faraway look in Sloan’s eyes, an expression of wry amusement on his face.

  So, the rumors had been true. Sloan and Nicole had been an item, even though she was ten years his senior. Lana had grabbed on to that bit of gossip as evidence that Sloan really wasn’t right for her if he could jump right into Nicole’s arms, Nicole’s bed, after their breakup. Nicole was fast and vastly inappropriate for a boy Sloan’s age. Why had Lana ever imagined he would wait around until she was ready?

  “What did Captain Johnson do?”

  “Well, first he threatened to fill my butt full of buckshot when he caught me with his daughter. But instead of skulking off, I stood up to him. Something snapped in me, I guess. Nicole and I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I was determined that I was going to make her father understand.”

  “And did he?” Lana asked.

  “After I talked until my voice wore out. Nicole put in a few good words for me too. So instead of riding me out of town on a rail, he gave me a job. I think he was hoping to prove I was the no-account hood he’d labeled me. But I was determined he wasn’t going to defeat me.”

  “What sort of job was it?”

  “Construction. I sweated more that summer than I ever have in my life, helping Johnson build his lake house. He let me stay in a little trailer on his property too, so I could get away from home.”

  Lana shuddered, remembering the awful place he’d grown up, the parents who cared more about beer and cigarettes than their own kid.

  “By the end of the summer I had some skills and a letter of recommendation. Johnson told me to shake the dust of Destiny off my boots and find opportunity elsewhere, and I did.”

  “And what about Nicole?” Lana couldn’t help asking.

  Sloan smiled slyly. “Johnson kept me so busy and so exhausted, my little fling with Nicole died a natural death.” He shrugged. “It was all very amicable. We’re still friends.”

  Lana digested this. What was that unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach? Surely not jealousy. Surely not after all these years.