Pregnant In Prosperino

JOE COLTON’S JOURNAL

There’s been a strange vibe in the air ever since I got off the phone with my son Rand. He’s on his way home with some shocking news that he has to deliver in person. I wonder what it could be…? Meanwhile, on the home front, Chance Reilly is back in Prosperino. He returned to look in on his terminally ill father, but the old coot died before they had a chance to make amends. After Chance’s mother died when he was a lad, he was left to battle his tyrannical, verbally abusive father alone—except for that rebellious teenage year when he stayed at the Hopechest Ranch and Hacienda de Alegria. Now his old man is making Chance’s life miserable, even from the grave. His airtight last testament decrees that Chance must be married in order to inherit the family ranch and estate. As luck would have it, his father’s private duty nurse, Lana Ramirez, offered to be his temporary wife—on the condition that Chance agree to father her baby! Hmm…could Old Man Reilly have had this ace up his sleeve all along?

About the Author

CARLA CASSIDY

Wealth, power, secrets and dysfunction…the Colton family has it all, and Carla was thrilled to be among the writers who got the opportunity to bring this fascinating family to life.

In Pregnant in Prosperino, she not only got the opportunity to explore elements of evil, but also enjoyed breathing life into two wonderful characters who find the goodness and joy of true love.

Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who lives in the Midwest with her husband, Frank, and their two neurotic dogs.

Pregnant in Prosperino

Carla Cassidy

Meet the Coltons—a California dynasty with a legacy of privilege and power.

Chance Reilly: Rancher desperately seeking…something. A rebellious bad boy in his teens, this rancher now feels empty and rootless. Could the hasty marriage he enters into to save his family ranch be his solution?

Lana Ramirez: Pregnant in Prosperino. Though she’s carrying his baby, this nurse senses that Chance is a footloose, rambling man who’ll soon move on. But if she has her way, the only place this cowboy will be heading is…back into her ever-loving arms!

Joe Colton: The perplexed patriarch. When the police arrive to arrest his wife, Joe is shocked to discover that his real wife, Meredith, was a victim of a malicious plot. Now that Meredith’s impostor twin, Patsy, is behind bars, this reunited couple has some lost years to catch up on.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

One

“Damn you, old man.”

Bitterness ripped through Chance Reilly as he stared at his father’s fresh grave. In life, Tom Reilly had cheated his son out of a happy childhood and a normal adolescence with his bullying and abuse.

And now, in death, Tom had delivered the final blow to any hope Chance might have had of ever making peace with him, or of inheriting the Reilly ranch.

Chance turned and gazed at the house in the distance. Even the shadows of approaching night couldn’t hide the neglect that clung to the place.

The house cried out for a new coat of paint and the weeds were knee-high in places. And that was just the beginning. The barn door hung askew, several railings of the corral were lying on the ground and there was no livestock grazing in the pastures.

Cars lined the drive, letting him know the place was still filled with sympathetic well-wishers and curious neighbors.

He should go back inside and play the role of grieving, dutiful son, but he couldn’t just yet. It was difficult to grieve when anger and bitterness were ripping apart your soul.

His gaze left the house and instead focused on his mother’s headstone next to his father’s final resting place. A lot of help she’d been, dying on him when he’d been eight years old and leaving him alone with “Sarge,” as his father had enjoyed being called.

Sarge—who had run his house like an army barrack, who had never been afraid to use hurtful words and flying fists to emphasize a point.

Emotion expanded in Chance’s chest and he fought against the suffocating tightness. When he’d gotten the word that his father had taken a turn for the worse, he’d left his motel room in Wichita, Kansas, and had caught the first plane he could get to reach Prosperino, California.

However, his father, perverse to the end, passed away mere hours before Chance had arrived back home, making it impossible for father and son to resolve the acrimony that had marked their relationship for years.

The funeral had been two hours before, and Walter Bishop, the family lawyer, had only a brief time before delivered the last of the bad news to Chance.

“Damn you,” he said again. “You were a miserable man who spent your whole life making me miserable.”

“Chance?”

He whirled around at the low, female voice, angry at the intrusion.

He relaxed a bit as he saw Lana Ramirez approach, her long black skirt fluttering around her ankles as the early autumn breeze played with the material.

“Are you all right?” she asked as she reached where he stood on the edge of the old family cemetery.

Although Chance and Lana had seen each other on the day he’d arrived back into town, that moment had been brief and Chance had immediately had to deal with funeral arrangements for his father.

“Sure, I’m fine.” He willed away any lingering emotion that had momentarily gripped him. There was no way he’d show anyone the feelings that had possessed him since coming back to this ranch.

She moved closer, near enough that he caught the scent of her, a wild floral fragrance that stirred old memories. She’d worn that particular perfume years ago, when he’d first met her at the Colton ranch, where Chance had lived for a year when he’d been sixteen and Lana had been thirteen.

Someplace in the back of his mind he registered that she had grown up to be a lovely woman. Her Mexican heritage was evident in the raven-black of her hair and the darkness of her eyes. It was a quiet, understated beauty she didn’t try to emphasize with an abundance of makeup.

Chance once again focused on the mound of dirt before them. “How did you put up with him?” he asked, then looked at her again.

Her full lips curved just a bit into a half smile. “I’m a nurse, Chance. I’m accustomed to dealing with difficult patients.”

“If I know my father, he was worse than difficult.”

She nodded, not denying his words. “Yes, there were days he was worse than difficult, but most of the time 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 an active role in the baby’s life. Chance would be a perfect sperm donor.

She tried not to think about how many nights in her youth she had dreamed about Chance Reilly, how many hours of those youthful days she’d wasted fantasizing about the handsome brown-haired young man whose green eyes had burned with the fierce intensity of tumultuous emotions.

Silly dreams and ridiculous fantasies, she now thought. She’d long ago outgrown the crush she’d once had on Chance Reilly. Chance was every teenage girl’s heartthrob but he was not the material for everlasting love.

She stood, knowing she needed to get back inside. Before she’d left the house to seek out Chance, she’d been serving as an unofficial hostess. And if she knew her mother, Inez Ramirez would be in the kitchen, washing up after everyone and replenishing the food on the dining room table.

Shoving aside her conversation with Chance, she went back inside the house. Chance stood near the dining room table, talking with several of the other ranchers in the area who had shown up to pay their respects.

There was no denying that time had only increased the man’s attractiveness. His brown hair was now sun-streaked with gleaming blond strands, the variegated color only appearing to deepen the hazel green of his eyes. Time had only seemed to better define the lines of his square face, his strong nose and full lips. The shoulders that had seemed broad before now seemed impossibly so.

She consciously tore her gaze from him and headed for the kitchen. Sure enough, her mother was there, standing at the sink with her arms half-buried in soap suds.

“Mama, you don’t have to do this,” Lana protested.

Inez flashed her daughter a warm smile. “I don’t mind. Chance has nobody else to help out.”

Lana picked up a dish towel and took a plate from her mother to dry. For a moment, the two women worked in a companionable silence.

Lana fought the impulse to tell her mother what she’d just offered Chance. She knew instinctively that her mother would never understand. Lana’s parents had married for love, and that love had not weakened through the years, but had rather strengthened. Inez would never understand her daughter settling for less than true love.

“And so your work here is done,” Inez said as she finished the last of the dishes.

Lana nodded. “I’ll pack up my things and move back to my apartment this evening.” The sooner the better, she thought to herself. She wasn’t particularly eager to face Chance again. Funny, but she wasn’t particularly eager to move back to her silent, empty apartment, either.

Within thirty minutes her parents had left and Lana excused herself from the remaining crowd to go to the room she had called home for the past six months.

It was a small room right next door to the master bedroom. It had been Jim Hastings, one of the local doctors, who had set up the arrangement for a home nurse for Tom Reilly.

Despite the fact that a series of strokes had left him partially paralyzed, Tom refused to be hospitalized, and also refused to call his only son home to take care of him.

She lost track of time as she folded clothes and carefully placed them in her suitcase. No matter how difficult the patient, there was always an edge of sadness inside her when one finally succumbed to death.

When she had all her clothes packed, she remembered she’d left a book she’d been reading in Tom’s bedroom where she’d spent long hours sitting by his bedside.

As she walked down the short hallway between the small bedroom and the master, she realized the house had grown silent and night had fallen completely.

A small lamp burned on the table next to the bed. No ghost of Tom Reilly haunted the room. Tom had been hospitalized the day before his death. Lana had remained here, hoping he would rally and be returned to his home, but it had not been so.

She grabbed the book from the stand and stood for a moment, staring at the bed as she said a silent prayer for Tom Reilly’s soul. He had not been a pleasant man and she had a feeling he could use all the prayers that were offered on his behalf.

“I’ll bet he’s barking orders in hell right about now.”

Lana jumped in surprise and whirled toward the window, where she spied Chance sitting in the shadows of the room. “You scared me half to death,” she exclaimed and clapped the paperback book over her breast to still her thudding heart.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I just came in for my book,” she explained. “I’m all packed, so I guess I’ll just say goodbye.” She turned to leave, but stopped in the doorway as he softly called her name.

“Have a cup of coffee with me.” He stood and approached her, stopping just before he got close enough to invade her personal space.

In the dimness of the room, his features looked stark, taut with tension. “Everyone else has gone home and now the house seems so quiet…” His voice trailed off.

“I’d like a cup of coffee before I leave,” she said softly. Although Chance had always professed to hate his father, Lana remembered a time when all Chance had wanted was a kind touch, a word of encouragement and a simple acknowledgment of affection from the man.

There must be a small part of him that was grieving, and Lana couldn’t walk away despite the fact that she still was embarrassed by her earlier outburst.

She turned and left the room, conscious of him just behind her as they walked down the hall toward the living room and kitchen.

When she’d first moved in here, she’d been struck by how plain, how austere the place was. Each room held the utilitarian furniture necessary, but little else. There were no floral arrangements, no little knickknacks, no pictures or personal items to make the house feel like a home.

In the kitchen, she sat at the table and watched as Chance made coffee. At some point during the evening, he’d taken off his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, exposing tanned, muscled forearms.

She searched for something to say to break the silence, but her usual shyness rose up to hinder any efforts she might make toward conversation.

He didn’t speak until he placed a cup of coffee before her. “Cream or sugar?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No, this is fine.”

He poured himself a cup, then joined her at the table. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for all you did for Sarge,” he said.

She shrugged. “I was just doing my job.” She cleared her throat, desperately wanting to fill the silence that once again fell between them. “I understand you travel a lot with your job.”

He nodded, the overhead kitchen light gleaming on the sun-kissed strands of his hair. “I’m usually on the road six days of the week.”

He leaned back in his chair, for the first time since arriving home he looked relaxed. “I love it. No ties, no binds, new places and new faces all the time. I spent the first twenty years of my life trying to please Sarge, now I please nobody but myself.”

Although he appeared to be relaxed, Lana felt the tension that rolled from him, saw the sparks of anger that still torched the depths of his eyes.

“Then I guess you don’t care that this place will all go to charity,” she said.

He sat back up, his gaze burning into hers. “Yes, I care.” He pushed away from the table and stood, then drew a deep breath and raked a hand through his collar-length hair as if to steady himself.

“Even though the last thing I ever want to do is ranch, and despite the fact that this place holds only terrible memories, I wanted it.” His voice was low, deep with barely suppressed emotion. “I wanted to sell this place and take the money and start my own business. He owed me this, Lana. Damn him, he owed me this.”

She heard the pain beneath the anger, and her heart ached for him. “Then take it,” she said with the bravado that was uncharacteristic. “Marry me and claim the ranch. Fix it up and sell it. Give me a baby, then ride off into the sunset with everyone happy.”

He sat down once again and eyed her incredulously. “You’re serious about this.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” she said truthfully. From the instant she’d heard about Chance’s dilemma with his father’s will, she’d felt as if a bargain between them was predestined.

“But you understand if you want a baby, that means we’d have to—we would be…” He allowed his voice to trail off.

“Chance, I know how babies are made,” she said as a surge of heat suffused her cheeks.

“And that doesn’t bother you—the idea of, uh, sleeping with me?”

“Of course not,” she replied briskly, not quite meeting his gaze.

“Lana, I respect your parents. It wouldn’t be right to them.”

She offered him a small smile. “I’m not asking you to sleep with them.” Her smile fell away, and she eyed him levelly. “My parents will respect my choice, my decision.”