Bayou Heat (26 page)

“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.”