presidentâs son, now a practicing attorney. It didnât really matter that theyâd divorced. Sheâd probably gotten some bodacious settlement from olâ Bart. It wasnât likely sheâd bat those baby blues in Sloanâs direction ever again. Theyâd 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 wouldnât 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 couldnât 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.
âAre you with the bride or groom?â the usher asked.
âI was hired to direct traffic and provide security,â 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 Lanaâs face as she watched her friends exchanging vows. Oh, how he remembered that smile.
Once, heâd 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, heâd thought back then. She probably wouldnât have given him the time of day and heâd have made a bad situation worse. But she had looked at himjust before walking away. Their gazes had locked while time stood still and his heart stopped beating. And then sheâd gone on, and heâd wondered if heâd imagined the whole encounter.
In weaker moments heâd pictured meeting her again, seeing her look of surprise when she found out heâd made something of himself, pretending he barely remembered their relationship. Tonight that fantasy had unexpectedly come true. Sheâd 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 heâd grown fond of Callie. Sheâd 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 newlyweds 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