THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY (3 page)

Rand quirked a brow. “What if we had canceled our trip north this evening?”

Josie shrugged. “I would have invented an emergency to get you here anyway.”

“And what if we were already married when we got here?” Ginger asked her mother.

“Then you would have been married again, by a proper minister, in proper wedding clothes,” Cordelia replied, shaking her head in reproach. “Honestly, Ginger, you are my only daughter. Were you really going to deny me the chance to see you pledge your love to the man of your dreams? Even if I haven’t yet had the opportunity to even meet him, never mind give my blessing!”

If there was anything Ginger hated more than interference in her personal life, it was melodrama. “Well, as long as you put it that way,” she quipped, raking a hand through her hair.

“You, too, young man,” Josie scolded, stomping closer. “You know better!”

To Ginger’s relief, she wasn’t the only one taking exception to their public dressing down.

“Look,” Rand was saying to his mother, “it’s not as if I haven’t done this once before. I had a proper wedding the first time around.”

Rand had been married before? To whom? Ginger wondered, a tinge of jealousy trickling through her. But there was no time to delve into it. She could see that both mothers expected her, at least, to want the big, ultra-romantic wedding they had painstakingly organized, in lieu of the quick, no-frills elopement she and Rand had been hoping to have. Hence, Ginger had no choice but to set the record straight.

She sighed in exasperation. “I also had a big fancy wedding the first time.” A fact her mother well knew. Consequently there was no need to go through that circus again. Even if the union she and Rand were planning had been a real marriage, which it wasn’t.

Both mothers seemed stunned by the twin revelations.

Rand and Ginger turned to look at each other. Belatedly she realized she didn’t know much about Rand, except how he felt about the environment and how great he was in bed. He knew very little about her, as well.

Abruptly aware they had overlooked a very important part of the marriage process, Ginger looked at Rand. “I think I need a moment alone with my, uh, fiancé.”

“Good idea.” Rand took Ginger by the arm and they headed down the driveway, not stopping until they were well out of earshot of everyone. Pivoting so no one would be able to read her lips, Ginger said ruefully, “We probably should have written a prenup.”

* * *

L
EAVE
IT
TO
Ginger, Rand thought, taking in her soft, kissable lips and too vulnerable green eyes, to bring a highly emotional situation right back to cold, hard business. It was something she always did when she felt backed into a corner in any way. Something, in the end, that always drove him away.

Not this time. Not when she was carrying their child.

Aware all eyes were still likely upon them, Rand shrugged. “No time to do it tonight.”

Ginger blinked up at him and raked her teeth across her lower lip. A pulse worked in her throat. “But we’ll draw something up first chance we get?”

Rand nodded. As much as he would have preferred not to have to put themselves through that, Ginger had a point. It would make things simpler in the long run, if they put everything in writing well in advance of their divorce.

“In the meantime,” Ginger continued practically, “in lieu of an actual marriage contract...how about a handshake deal?”

Cocking his head, he studied her face. “I’m listening.”

“What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. There will be no community property gained during the union for us to quarrel about.”

Her voice was calm enough, but he heard the steel-magnolia undertone. There would be no negotiating this or anything else in their union, at least as far as she was concerned.

He had a different idea.

Because he wasn’t about to be pushed around by Ginger or any one else. “Everything regarding custody of our child will be equal, too.”

This time she did not hesitate. “Right.”

He relaxed in relief. “Okay, then.” He tugged her in close and put one arm around her waist, shaking her other hand surreptitiously, in the age-old sign of a satisfactorily completed business deal. He whispered against her temple, “Let’s do it.”

“All right, you two!” Cordelia called from behind them. “Enough of that! We’ve got a wedding to put on!”

Once again, family interfered. Rand was escorted one way, Ginger another. A flurry of preparations followed.

Two hours later they were all together again, surrounded by two hundred of their closest family and friends.

This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a temporary legal formality, Rand thought in surprise. But standing next to the flower-strewed arbor in his parents’ backyard, with a string quartet playing and his brother Colt stepping in to serve as best man, it sure felt like a real wedding. And, if the sweetly vulnerable look on Ginger’s face as she floated down the aisle on her mother’s arm was any indication, she was completely taken aback by the unexpected authenticity of the moment, too.

Colt teased Rand affectionately as Ginger neared. “I understand why you were in such a hurry to get a ring on her finger.”

Ginger
was
beautiful, Rand thought, taking the opportunity to drink her in. Never more so than right now in her wedding finery.

The ivory-satin gown lovingly cupped her breasts, nipped in at her waist and left her arms and shoulders bare. The full skirt fell in a seductive swirl past her ankles. A sparkling tiara, attached to a short veil, was threaded through her upswept copper hair. As she neared him, her eyes met his. Held. As he took her hand in his, her delicate cheeks grew pink and her soft lips parted. Her chest rose as she took in a deep, enervating breath.

And then the ceremony began.

* * *

G
INGER
HADN
’
T
BEEN
this caught up in the ceremony the first time she’d been to the altar. To be feeling so breathless with excitement was...well, completely unprecedented, unexpected. And, she forced herself to admit, unrealistic. Yet, standing there with her hands clasped in Rand’s large, capable palms, looking deeply into his midnight-blue eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a little swept away.

Maybe it was the way he looked in that dark tuxedo, the striking contrast of the stark white shirt against the suntanned hue of his skin. Or how closely he had shaved, and the way his mahogany hair shone in the evening light. All she knew was that he smelled so damn good, like a sun-drenched forest just after a spring rain. That he felt so warm and was so tall and strong.

Maybe it was true, she thought, that women did instinctively search out the best specimen to father their children.

Right now, he seemed like the perfect mate.

To the point, it was easy to promise to have and to hold from this day forward.

At least, she added mentally, until the day their baby was born.

Then they’d see.

As she gazed into his eyes, she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

That, too, would be reassuring. Because it would mean they might have all the trappings of a real marriage.

But “real” was, like this union, in the eye of the beholder.

The minister’s voice rose, interrupting her thoughts. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” The reverend smiled broadly. “Rand, you may kiss your bride.”

And heaven help them both, he did.

Chapter Three

But it wasn’t just any generic end-of-the-wedding-ceremony-with-everybody-watching kind of kiss, Ginger thought in stunned amazement. It was a knock-your-shoes-off, make-you-tingle-from-head-to-toe embrace that weakened her knees. And had her surrendering to the warm, sure pressure of his mouth in a way she had never ever yielded before.

Not even to him. Not even during that fateful night when they’d made the baby she was carrying inside her.

This was something new. Something wonderful. Something suddenly and unexpectedly sanctioned.

And darn it all if Rand didn’t take full advantage of the situation. Both arms wrapped around her, he brought her closer, until she was hanging on to him, soaking up everything about him—his strength, his scent, his warmth and tenderness. He was amazingly solid and real, so very masculine and persuasive. A low helpless sound escaped her throat, and Rand continued kissing her with the same quiet, unrelenting determination he channeled into everything that mattered to him. Until she mirrored his overwhelming need to make this mean more than it had. If only for this one moment in time. If only for the sake of their child...

Giving herself over to the marriage the way she had recklessly already given herself over to him, Ginger sighed again and curled her fingers into the fabric of his tuxedo jacket. Going up on tiptoe, she pressed hers breasts to the hardness of his chest and shifted her arms to his shoulders. His encircled her waist. And he brought her nearer still...claiming her as his woman, his wife. Just as she claimed him as her husband.

* * *

R
AND
HADN
’
T
INTENDED
to let the kiss take on a life of its own. Hadn’t intended to turn Ginger—and himself—on to the degree that he had. Yet he couldn’t say he was surprised. Whenever they were together, it was like putting a lit match to tinder. And that was something everyone who cared about them needed to see and understand. Because he knew if he and Ginger didn’t want a heck of a lot of interference from family, needing—belatedly—to understand how and why they had come together in the first place, that they had some authenticating to do.

Problem was, he was beginning to want a whole lot more than a strictly-for-show kiss. He was beginning to want her alone. To want the hot, intense connection that blew all their impossible barriers away. But that couldn’t happen right now, not with an audience surrounding them. It would have to wait until later. When they were alone. Celebrating their first official night together as man and wife.

Ginger moaned softly, trembling in his arms. Reluctantly, Rand lifted his head, looked into her misty green eyes and heard a cheer of approval from the guests.

His bride’s acquiescence turned to a glare only he could see. Loving her display of fiery temper almost as much as her gorgeous copper hair, Rand grinned. He leaned forward, kissed her temple again and then held out his arm. She grasped it, just above the elbow, and motioned him down. She then whispered in his ear, “You’re going to pay for that one.”

Rand suspected he would.

He couldn’t wait.

* * *

A
N
EXHAUSTING
FEW
hours later the reception neared an end. Rand still looked incredibly handsome in his tux. Physically, Ginger was holding up, too. Emotionally was another matter. The strain of pretending to be every bit as ecstatic as they were expected to be had worn what felt like an enormous hole in her heart.

If any of this were real...

But it wasn’t, Ginger reminded herself sternly.

And that meant she and Rand had to get out of there before they got any more caught up in the festivities, and what it was all supposed to mean to them. Or would have, had any of this happened the traditional way.

Predictably, Rand read her mind as they finished feeding each other bites of scrumptious wedding cake. He kissed her temple and murmured in her ear, “Ready to make a run for it?”

Ginger tried not to let her inner weariness show. “More than you know,” she whispered back.

Two of Rand’s brothers appeared at their side. “Don’t forget the garter removal and the bouquet toss,” Colt said, clapping Rand on the shoulder.

“Actually—” Rand winked “—I’m keeping that part private.”

Ginger flushed at the sexy implication. Colt shook his head at his younger brother, grinning from ear to ear. She blushed all the more and flashed her groom a humorously reproving look. Now she
really
owed him.

Rand paused to wipe a smear of vanilla butter-cream frosting from the corner of her mouth, then kissed her lips gently. Excitement warred with the anticipation that had been building all night.

Feelings like this, Ginger knew, could be trouble. Feelings like this were what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. Rand seemed to intuit this, too. Unlike her, however, he didn’t seem to mind.

“One last surprise.” All three parents approached them. Along with Cordelia Rollins, Josie and Wade McCabe turned and gestured to the stretch limousine in the drive. “We arranged for a last-minute honeymoon, too.”

Cordelia, who liked everything to be perfect, confessed fretfully, “Unfortunately, due to the short notice, we could only book you one night in the bridal suite at Lake Laramie Lodge. But if you’d like to stay on in a regular room, that’s been set up, too.”

Ginger and Rand shook their heads in unison. “Sorry, y’all,” she told them, “but we’re going to have to head back to Summit tomorrow.”

Rand nodded. “We both have a lot of work to do.”

Their parents looked disappointed for the two of them, but not surprised. One bouquet toss and a spirited goodbye later, and Ginger and Rand were cozily ensconced in the back of the limo. The glass divider was up, to allow them maximum privacy.

Sighing wearily, Ginger let her head fall back against the seat and she closed her eyes. Rand clasped her hand in his. “You okay?” he asked.

Was she? Ginger still felt that odd, unexpected emptiness in her heart. Telling herself it was just a reaction to all that had happened, she replied, “Yes. Just tired.”

“Then we’ll get you out of that dress and straight into bed.”

That had her opening her eyes, turning her head.

Rand looked sheepish. “You know what I mean,” he said.

Ginger did. And for that, she was grateful.

Rand—like the rest of the McCabe men—could be exceedingly gallant. She knew that side of him would come in handy when their baby was born.

Upon arrival, Rand and Ginger were whisked straight to the spacious suite on the top floor of the lodge. The thousand-foot space sported a living area, majestic bedroom and large spa-style bath. A big box of chocolates and a bottle of champagne on ice sat waiting, along with a sumptuous repast of fruit, bread and cheese. All in all, it was much too romantic, way too decadent and private, for comfort.

Ginger wondered how she was going to spend an entire night here, alone with Rand, and not do exactly what they had in the past...succumb.

“Would you like me to open the champagne for you?” the bellman asked cheerfully after setting their overnight bags down.

Rand declined the offer, then tipped the bellman, who promptly congratulated them again and headed out. Once they were finally alone, Rand looked her over, taking in every inch of her. “What’s wrong?”

How about nearly everything? Ginger thought. Then, trying a diversionary tactic, said, “Did you ever wonder why our parents threw us a big lavish wedding instead of trying to stop us?”

* * *

A
CTUALLY
, R
AND
HAD
given that a thought or two in the previous eight hours. Aware that Ginger still looked better than any woman had a right to look after the day they’d had, he locked the door and moved further into the room.

“My mom and dad know there’s no dissuading me once I set my mind to something.” He watched as Ginger attempted to work the tiara and veil out of her upswept hair. When it seemed she needed a hand, he stepped in to assist. While she stood stock-still, he found the pins and gently worked them free. Finished, he handed her the headdress. “What about your mom? Why was she so eager to see us get hitched?”

Ginger lifted her skirts, showing a flash of silk-clad ankle, and paused to toe off her high heels. Before Rand could help her, she eased off her satin garter, too, and dropped it onto the coffee table between them. Ignoring his look of comically exaggerated disappointment, she said, “My mom says her thirty-year marriage was the best thing that ever happened to her, and she wants me married to the love of my life, too.”

Rand drank in the orange-blossom scent of her perfume. “How’d she feel about your divorce?”

Ginger sighed and went back to working the pins out of her hair. Finished, she ran her fingers through the silky copper mane and arranged the softly curling strands over her bare shoulders. “She wasn’t pleased we were calling it quits. But she also knew Conrad and I weren’t making each other happy. So in the end, she wanted what’s best for me.”

Ginger glided over to the bar, and poured herself a glass of ginger ale. “What about your parents?” She slanted him a curious look. “How did they feel about you getting divorced?”

Rand took off his bow tie, undid the first two buttons on his shirt and hooked his jacket onto the back of a chair. “I think they were relieved, given that it wasn’t much of a marriage. It only lasted a month.”

Ginger looked as if she thought his hasty divorce didn’t bode well for the two of them, either. She sat on one end of the sofa and propped her stocking-clad feet on the table. “How come?”

Rand picked up the fruit plate and settled next to her on the sofa. He munched on a tart green grape.

“Turns out that Diandra expected access to my trust fund once the ring was on her finger.”

Ginger leaned over and helped herself to a strawberry. “And you refused.”

Rand turned to face her, balancing the plate on his bent knee. “That trust is my safety net, in case anything ever happens that leaves me unable to work.” He draped his right arm along the back of the sofa. “I’m not going to live on it.”

Ginger’s brow furrowed. “Diandra didn’t know that before you two said ‘I Do’?”

Rand let out a mirthless laugh. “I had told her as much. She never thought I’d stick with it when we could have used it to live luxuriously. Anyway, as soon as she saw I was serious, she filed for divorce. When that didn’t change my mind, she ended it for good.”

Ginger made a soft sound he couldn’t even begin to interpret. “How old were you?”

“Twenty-two.”

Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She tilted her head and took a longer look. “And since?”

Rand shrugged. “There’s been my work, as an environmentalist. And you.” She flushed in response. “So what about you?” He ate another grape. “How long were you married?”

She toyed with a wedge of peach and lifted it to her mouth. “Four years.”

He watched her savor the juicy fruit. “What happened?”

She shrugged. “I realized Conrad was never going to take me seriously in a professional sense.”

He sensed that was the least of it. Frustrated she wasn’t being more forthcoming, he searched her eyes and pressed on. “You felt disrespected?”

“And then some. Plus...” She hesitated.

He waited.

She bit her lip. “I had the feeling deep down that something was missing between Conrad and me. Anyway, we split up two years ago. Got a quickie divorce. And all my mother’s done since is try to talk me out of the oil business and into another marriage that will last.”

Rand saw trouble ahead. “Uh-oh.”

“Yeah.” Ginger wrinkled her nose. “She won’t be happy when this union ends in divorce, too, but that is a problem for another day. My task right now is to get some sleep, ASAP.”

Rand couldn’t argue that. She was pregnant, after all. It had been a very long day. “Need some help getting out of that dress?”

Looking lovelier than ever, she stood, pivoted and arched a delicate brow. “Really?”

“Hey.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Just offering.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Shaking her head, Ginger went over to the luggage stand and opened her overnight bag. Blinked, and blinked again. A litany of frustrated words followed.

“What?” Curious as to what had her so upset, Rand rose and sauntered over. Ginger held up a very sexy white negligee in one hand and a very feminine sundress, equally unlike her, in the other. Aside from that, and a handful of very brief satin-and-lace undies, another pair of shoes, an unopened package of pantyhose and a toiletries bag, there was nothing in the bag. Trying not to imagine what she would look like in all or none of the above, he quipped, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Obviously, someone—my mother, most likely—took out everything I had planned to wear tonight and tomorrow, and replaced it with all this.”

Rand’s grin turned into a hearty chuckle.

Blushing mightily, Ginger wagged a finger in his direction. “You laugh now. But this begs the question. What’s in
your
overnight bag, cowboy?”

* * *

G
INGER
WATCHED
AS
a bemused Rand plucked out a pair of discrete black satin boxers, a razor, more cotton underwear, a starched button-down shirt, a pair of khakis and another pair of shoes.

“Who did yours?”

Rand pointed to the proper morning-after-the-wedding clothing. “Probably my mother.” He caught sight of a gift bag stuck in a side pocket. The names of all four of his brothers were on the tag. “And then—” Rand groaned at the contents: a G-string with a big silver wedding bell on the front “—my siblings got into the act.”

Next to that, was a big box of condoms.

Not, Ginger thought, that they would be needing those—even if she hadn’t already been pregnant. She rolled her eyes. “Nice.”

“Thoughtful,” he agreed. Putting everything down but the provocative scrap of spandex, he asked, “Want me to try it on?”