Longing for a child, Lana had suggested adoption. But Brent had wanted to father his own child, and a few months after learning of Lana’s inability to conceive, he’d left her for Julia.
“I’ve always wanted a houseful of kids,” she continued. “It would be nice if I was married, but with or without a husband, I’m going to do this, and I would really appreciate your and Dad’s support.”
Her mother’s mouth tightened. “I don’t—”
To Lana’s surprise, her father cut off her mother with a warning look. “Leave her alone, Michele. I’m not happy about this either, but arguing with Lana isn’t going to work. She’s always been single-minded about what she wants and is not afraid to go after it. It’s one of the qualities that makes her a good businesswoman.”
“I just want her to be happy, Chet. If she could just get over Brent...”
“I’m right here, Mom and Dad, and FYI, I’m totally over him.”
To Lana’s amazement, she was. Sometime in the past few days she’d stopped hurting. Come to think of it, Friday evening. Lana marveled over how she’d changed. As recklessly as she’d behaved, that night with Sly had helped her heal.
“I’m glad to hear you say that, honey,” Lana’s mother said. “Now that you’ve finally gotten Brent out of your system, why not make an effort and put yourself out there before you act on this crazy idea to adopt a baby by yourself.”
As much as Lana needed her mom’s support, she wasn’t going to get it tonight. Unable to bear one more negative comment, she gave up—for now.
“I still have things to do tonight to get ready for tomorrow. I’m going home.” Ignoring her mother’s shocked expression, she stood. “Thanks for dinner.”
So much for that warm, all-is-well-with-my-family feeling. She would keep moving forward with her plan and hope that in time, her parents would come around. If not, she’d go it alone.
* * *
“WILL YOU LOOK at that,” Sly murmured as he scanned the morning paper over breakfast on a Tuesday morning in mid-April.
Mrs. Rutland, his forty-something housekeeper, stopped working on whatever she was making for dinner to peer over his shoulder. “Ah, you’re reading the Small Business Profile of the Month. I read it earlier, while the coffee percolated. I’ve heard great things about Tender Loving Daycare, TLD for short.”
“Have you,” Sly said distractedly.
Because he recognized the owner of the business from the photo accompanying the article. It was Lana, the woman he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. Even now, more than a week after their night together, a mere glance at her smile caused his body to stir.
Hell, just imagining her did that.
After a week, he realized he wanted to get to know her. Nothing serious or long-term, but a chance to explore their attraction.
Now he had her full name. Lana Carpenter. Sly grimaced at that. He hoped she wasn’t related to Tim Carpenter, the man he was suing. According to the attorney, Carpenter should receive the notice sometime today.
“These monthly profiles put small businesses on the Prosperity map, both for us locals and the tourists,” Mrs. R said. “With hundreds of businesses to choose from, I think it’s wonderful that the Daily News picked a day care this time. You don’t have any kids yet, Sly, but someday you will. Maybe you’ll send them to TLD.”
Sly had already raised a kid—his brother, Seth. And look how that had turned out. The experience had soured him on having his own children. He’d have to be nuts to put himself—or some poor kid—through that again.
He went back to the article, his eyes on the photo. Lana looked happy and beautiful, as did the boys and girls gathered around her. But, hell, if she had her arms around Sly the way she did around those little ones, he’d be grinning just as widely.
“How do you know about the day care, Mrs. R?” he asked. “Your son and daughter are grown. When they were little, Lana Carpenter was probably in day care herself.”
“A couple of my kids’ friends take their children to TLD. They’re always talking about how great Lana Carpenter is. She has a special way with children. They love her.”
She also had other special ways, private things that made a man wild. Sly’s body hardened. He wished he could stop thinking about her, but so far he hadn’t had much luck with that.
Which was why he’d decided to see her again, casually. He’d returned to the Bitter & Sweet last Friday night in case she was there.
She wasn’t. He’d danced with a couple of different women, both of them signaling that they were open to more than dancing. But neither could compare to beautiful, funny, sexy Lana, and after an hour or so, he’d left.
Hands on her ample hips, Mrs. Rutland looked worried. “Is something wrong with your omelet?”
Sly realized he was frowning. He curled his mouth into a smile. “It’s real good.” He glanced at his watch and was surprised to discover how late it was. “I told Ace I’d help him and the others move part of the herd today,” he said as he shoveled in big bites. “I’d best finish and get out there.”
* * *
COUNTING LABOR, FENCING, feed and vet care, cattle cost a bundle to raise, nearly three thousand dollars per animal per year. Growing his own summer and fall pasture grass cut down on food costs, and the nutrient-rich crop helped keep the animals strong and healthy. But in winter and spring, Sly relied on vitamin and mineral supplements for that. Supplies were running low, so late Tuesday afternoon he headed out to pick up more, as well as a roll of barbwire for the fences, which always seemed to need mending. But instead of turning east toward Drysdale’s Ranching and Farm Supplies, he headed west.
Before he knew it, he was driving along River Drive, a pretty street that followed the Ames River through town and ended at Prosperity Park and the awesome Prosperity Falls. The cascading waterfall was a popular site for marriage proposals and outdoor weddings, and drew visitors from all over.
Miles before reaching the park, though, Sly turned off, onto Hawthorn Road. The colorful Tender Loving Daycare sign immediately drew his attention. So this was Lana’s day care. He slowed way down to study the square clapboard building. Painted a soft green, it had purple shutters and window boxes. April was too early for flowers in the boxes, so colorful windmills stood in their stead. On one side of the building, a big fenced yard marked a kids’ paradise of swings and slides and all sorts of climbing toys. On the other was a parking lot.
Sly had to find out if the attraction between them was as strong as he remembered, so he pulled in, noting that the lot was empty except for a minivan, a light green sedan and his truck. But then, it was after six. Sly was debating whether to go inside or take off, when the door opened. Amy Simmons—no, Amy Watkins now—sauntered through it holding the hand of a pint-size little girl. Lana followed behind them without a coat, as if she didn’t expect to stay out long.
Amy noticed him right away. “Well, hello there,” she said, approaching him with a dazzling smile. “What brings you here?”
Sly had no choice but to slide out of the truck. “Hey, Amy.” He nodded at Lana. “I’m here to see her.”
Lana had moved to stand beside Amy, her eyes wide with surprise. “Sly—uh, hi,” she said.
Amy gave them both speculative looks. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
They knew each other, all right, in ways that would make Amy blush if she realized.
Lana met his gaze, her green eyes warning him to say nothing about how they’d met. He gave a subtle nod, then smiled at the girl peering from behind Amy’s knees. “Is that your little girl, Amy?”
“Yes,