THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY (7 page)

“Well, I have to hand it to you,” Rand told Ginger an hour later, after they had returned to the Red Sage guest ranch, said good-night to the moms and retired to their “honeymoon” cottage. “You took mild parental concern to DEFCON levels of wariness, in a flash.”

Glad the dinner was over, Ginger paused to toe off her boots. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Rand hunted around in the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer, left over from his “bachelor” days. He twisted off the cap and sauntered closer. “Ah, yeah, it was. Especially when you referenced your list and told them what was on the agenda for the marriage contract so far.”

Ginger looked longingly at the icy brew, then frowned and headed for the cabinet. Ignoring his contemplative gaze, she revealed, “My mother already thinks I’m completely misguided.” She twisted the cap off the bottle she had hidden behind the coffee cups and shook a prenatal vitamin into her hand.

Rand lounged against the kitchen counter and watched her pour a glass of milk. “And now she knows for sure?”

Ginger rolled her eyes at his teasing. She didn’t know how he did it, but her new husband could always coax a smile from her, even under the most trying of circumstances.

“Your mother didn’t say much about it.” She paused to swallow her vitamin, then made a face and went for a chocolate sandwich cookie, as per usual, to kill the lingering iron taste of the supplement.

Rand admitted this was so with a tilt of his handsome head, then took another swig of beer. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s because she was in shock.”

Ginger studied Rand over the rim of her glass, curious now. “Your family doesn’t believe in prenups?” She would think, with their wealth and influence, it would be a no-brainer.

Rand watched her eat another cookie, just for the heck of it. It had been a stressful evening, after all.

“McCabes believe in marrying for love.” He moved closer, lifted his finger and wiped a drop of milk from the corner of her lip before ever so slowly lowering his hand and stepping back. “And a love that is strong enough to compel one of us to hitch our wagon to someone else’s for the rest of our lives also requires a huge amount of trust. On everyone’s part.”

Tingling from his light, tender touch, Ginger shrugged and drained her glass. “Maybe that’s the case under usual circumstances,” she acknowledged. “But when all’s said and done in
our
situation, they’ll be thankful we’ve gone to the trouble to put everything in writing ahead of time.”

After taking another slow, thoughtful sip of beer, Rand looked her over. “You’re talking about our inevitable split?”

Ginger nodded. It was what they had agreed upon, what they both knew would happen. Yet to her surprise, she couldn’t help feeling a little discomfited about it, too.

* * *

R
AND
WASN
’
T
SURPRISED
to see Ginger go right back to work that evening. He was a little annoyed by the continual chirping of her cell phone. Finally, around midnight, she shut it off. “Who keeps calling?”

Ginger grinned and reached for The List. She added No Monitoring Each Other’s Calls to the marriage contract must-haves. Then sat back, her expression baiting. “You really want to know?”

Did he? And if so, what did that say about him?

He took a chair, set it a distance from her work area and lowered himself into it. “Yeah,” he said, deciding to go with his gut, and satisfy his curiosity no matter how it looked. “I do.”

“Three were texts from my mother.”

“Everything okay?”

“She wants to have a private talk before she leaves in the morning about the ins and outs of being a good wife.”

Ginger got up and stretched.

Somewhere in the course of the evening, she had changed into a pair of loose-fitting, pink-and-white-striped cotton pajamas. Her hair had been put up in a loose and messy knot on top of her head. Sexy copper tendrils curled against her nape and brushed at her temple and cheeks.

Rand stayed where he was with effort. “She’s serious?”

Another sigh. Another slow, feline stretch. “Oh, yes.” Her rueful smile upped his pulse. “My mom completely doted on my father. Her whole life revolved around making him happy, and when I was younger, taking care of me. She could anticipate our needs before we even knew what they were.”

Ginger and Cordelia did not seem to be on the same page these days, Rand noted. “What happened to change that?”

Ginger stood feet apart, hands clasped behind her. She bent down, so her face was at her knees, and stretched the kinks out gently. “My dad died when I was a senior in high school. Massive heart attack. He was out on a rig on the Gulf, doing geological studies for a customer. He was dead before they could get him airlifted to a hospital on shore.”

Rand could see how much that had hurt—and how much she did not want him to go to her and hold her right now. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Yeah.” Briefly, sadness crossed her face. “It was tough. I still miss him to this day. Anyway, my mom was beside herself with grief. To make matters worse, I was leaving for Texas A&M that same summer. She asked me not to go, to skip a year and stay home in San Angelo with her, but I knew if I did, she’d never even begin to move on with her life. So I made the decision to go off to college anyway.”

Rand noted the complex mixture of emotions on Ginger’s face. Grief. Resentment. Most of all, she bore the look she had when she felt smothered with attention or pushed into a corner. “I’m guessing Cordelia didn’t take it well?”

“She started driving up to see me a couple of times a week. Always, a surprise.”

Rand recalled how much he had wanted independence in his first heady college days. “You resented it?”

Ginger nodded sharply. “Everyone was making fun of me, and I felt...suffocated. I was missing my dad, too, but I also needed to be on my own. Anyway, we had a big blow-up during fall break. I went off with a friend, rather than go home, and she was devastated. But I just... I couldn’t take it. Our family doctor referred Mom to a grief support group and a therapist, and she eventually realized she had to have more in her life and went back to work as a party planner.”

Impressed, Rand said, “No wonder she did such a good job with our surprise wedding.”

Ginger smiled in agreement, and then went quiet.

“You really think Cordelia’s going to be a problem for us?” he asked.

Ginger raked her teeth across her lower lip. “I hope not.”

“But?” Rand persisted when she didn’t go on.

Ginger lounged next to him against the counter. “Any time my mom senses I’m in a dilemma—or even at risk of
getting
in trouble—she starts becoming over-involved in my life again.” She winced. “She says she just can’t help it.”

Rand tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “You think she senses something is up with us, other than what we’ve told everyone?”

Ginger shook her head. She pivoted to face him, and as she moved, the notch collar of her pajama top crinkled, giving him a nice view of the uppermost curve of one lovely breast. “I think she wants to believe you’re the love of my life, and vice versa, and that our impetuousness grew out of the passion we have for each other.”

Rand had the idea that his mother, a real romantic at heart, had erroneously come to the same conclusion.

Ginger moved away again, taking with her the seductive glimpse of her breast. “My mom doesn’t want us to lose sight of that...um...‘passion’ in all the drudgery and domesticity of day-to-day living, so she’s trying to help me—us—keep our focus on what’s important during our honeymoon phase.”

Rand knew the one thing he did not need was any help remembering to covet his wife. That was an ever-present constant that had him physically uncomfortable whenever they were alone. “But you still want Cordelia to give you your space.”

“Heck, yes!”

Rand wanted that, too. Otherwise, he would never have the time and opportunity to convince Ginger to make love with him again.

And again.

Ginger’s brow furrowed as if she sensed the libidinous nature of his thoughts. “What are you thinking?” she demanded.

Already concocting his path to greater marital happiness, Rand grinned. “That for all our sakes, it’s time you and I do a little more convincing.”

Chapter Seven

“They’re coming,” Ginger announced as she stepped away from the window.

Rand held out his arms. Ginger went into them, and began kissing him passionately, just as they had planned.

It was supposed to be a staged kiss. Purely a means to an end. But, as always, the moment his lips touched hers, she felt a lightning bolt of desire soar through her. All coherent thought fled. Her only focus was the soft persuasive warmth of his mouth on hers, the strength in the arms around her and the hardness of his body pressed against hers.

A delicate cough sounded behind them.

Her blush of embarrassment all too real, Ginger turned to see their mothers standing on the other side of the screen door.

Rand flashed an unrepentant grin at both their moms. “Sorry.” He shrugged. “Newlyweds.”

Josie gave them an assessing glance that spoke volumes about the doubts she was privately having. “So we see,” she said dryly.

Rand held the door open and ushered both women inside.

Cordelia admired the stand mixer, toaster and espresso maker they had set out on the counter. A nice set of cookware was sitting on top of the stove, ready to be put away. More boxes were opened. Meanwhile, Ginger’s real work was nowhere in sight.

“You have been busy!” Cordelia beamed her approval.

Ginger nodded. “I realized you’re right, Mom. I do need to pay more attention to making Rand happy.”

Rand laced his hand around Ginger’s waist. “And I need to make sure my beautiful bride has everything she wants and needs.” He squeezed her affectionately, and kissed the top of her head. “Otherwise,” he mused, “what’s the point of being married?”

To their delight, Cordelia bought their ruse, hook, line and sinker—maybe because she was seeing what she wanted to see.

Rand’s mother, though, was not such an easy sell.

* * *

“Y
OU
WANT
TO
tell me what’s really going on?” Josie asked when she caught up with Rand in Summit later that day.

Rand paused, just outside city hall. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been?” The moment he spoke the words, he knew they were true.

“That, I can see. But I still think you and Ginger aren’t telling us everything.”

Rand shrugged. Waited.

Josie continued. “You’re sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”

He did. And he didn’t. Finding out he was having a child—and with Ginger, to boot—was the best news he ever could have gotten. Part of him wanted to tell the world; the rest knew just how fragile his relationship with his new wife was. He didn’t want to do or to say anything to put their growing closeness in jeopardy. Rand gestured amiably. “Nothing I can think of.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Figuring now was the time to be frank about other matters, however, Rand continued. “Look, Mom, I know how much you love all your sons.”

“I really do.”

“I also know you’ve managed to let go of my brothers.”

“Just not you?”

He smiled indulgently. “You worry when we’re not happy.”

“You got that right.”

“But it’s really not necessary. I’m a grown man. I can solve my own problems.”

The tears his mom hadn’t shed at his wedding to Ginger suddenly misted Josie’s eyes. She squeezed his hand, said thickly, “Just so you know if you ever need advice or comfort you can still come to me.”

A lump suddenly in his throat, too, Rand hugged her warmly. “Thanks, Mom. But you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

And for the rest of the two weeks that followed, all went as smoothly as he had promised. Ginger worked nonstop on her proposal, Maria Gonzales by her side much of the time.

He met with many of the landowners in the area, who were interested in exploring their options, but—like Dot and Clancy Boerne—wanted to hire him to ensure their property was protected from an environmental standpoint. And it was only three days before the bids were due to be turned in, that conflict arose.

* * *

G
INGER
WAS
JUST
putting the finishing touches on the computer model of the drilling plan she had engineered for the Boernes when a knock sounded at her cottage door. She looked up from her computer and frowned at the person standing on the other side of the screen door. This, she thought, was what she got for leaving the main door open to let in the warm spring breeze.

“Got a minute?” Conrad asked.

Ginger knew that coolly calculating look. She turned away from her ex-husband, wondering yet again how she ever could have thought herself in love with him. “No.”

“Give me five minutes of your time and I’ll stop pestering you.”

Ginger rose to unlock the door. But only because she knew Conrad would persist until he said what he had come to say. She ushered him inside, but left the main door open. Then stood contentiously between him and the oil-recovery plan she and Maria were going to submit.

Conrad removed his hat, slapped it against his thigh, and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “You’re still ticked off at me, aren’t you?”

Once again, he was dressed in a sport coat, designer jeans and tie. And of course shiny rattlesnake-skin boots that ran into the thousands of dollars. “Actually, I’m not.” Truth was, she didn’t really care what Conrad did, as long as she didn’t have to see or hear from him. Not that this had been much of an issue thus far, given how acrimoniously the two of them had parted.

Looking slightly uncomfortable standing there, hat in hand, her ex-husband regarded her somberly. “The company made a mistake not taking you seriously.”

Of course they had
.

“Frankly, we should have done whatever was necessary back then to retain you,” he continued.

Now, it was all beginning to make sense....

To succeed in the oil business, a person had to be good at mapping geologic strata and identifying mineral deposits, acquiring the land, and/or designing, supervising and completing major drilling projects. The best CEOs were talented in all three areas.

Conrad was a good land man. He had a knack for being able to talk to people and sign them up. However he struggled mightily in the other two areas. A fact his multitalented father had worried about, since Conrad would never be able to take his place at the helm unless the board of directors backed Conrad. And the board wouldn’t do that unless Conrad had proved himself on a big project, which he had yet to do.

Ginger regarded her ex sagely. “Would you still be saying this if one of your top competitors
hadn’t
struck oil in Ochiltree County, using a very similar strategy to the one I proposed?”

Conrad flashed his most persuasive smile. “The point is, Ginger, you had the right approach all along. My dad and I, and the rest of the VPs, were just too thickheaded and set in our ways to realize it.”

“Okay.” Ginger shrugged. She had some idea what this mea culpa was costing her egocentric ex. “Apology accepted.”

Conrad eased closer and continued his pitch. “Profitt Oil wants you back, as VP of domestic exploration.”

“That’s a pretty big promotion.”

He nodded, serious. “And this time, my father and I will personally see to it that we follow your drilling plans, starting with the bid for the Boerne ranch.”

She knew they would, if Conrad could somehow take credit for it. But it no longer mattered. It hadn’t for a long time.

She turned him down with a look, then ushered him toward the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”

He dug in his heels. “Come on, Ginger. For once in your life, be reasonable! You know you haven’t got a chance in hell of winning the bidding frenzy over the Boerne deal. Or any other worthwhile oil lease in this neck of the woods, for that matter!” His beseeching smile turned ugly. “Your drilling partner, Maria Gonzales, may have a stellar reputation, but you’re too new at this, your resources as a fledgling independent too slim. The midsize companies and well-established wildcatters are going to get all the work.”

Maybe so, but not for lack of trying on her part, Ginger thought stubbornly.

Glad that Maria—who was beginning to feel a little nervous about their chances of winning the job, too—had missed Conrad’s confidence-busting speech, she said, “And here I thought you just showed up to flatter me.” She opened the door, and pushed Conrad through it, right into Rand’s imposing form.

Her current husband looked about as pleased as her former husband.

Rand scowled at Conrad. “I believe the lady asked you to leave.”

Conrad took another few steps away from Ginger, then turned. “You don’t have to run through the entire trust fund your dad left you to prove yourself,” he told her. “You have other options, Ginger. At least you would if you weren’t too foolish to consider them.”

“That’s not why I’m doing this!” Ginger retorted. She pivoted away from both men and stormed back inside.

In her wake, low voices rumbled unpleasantly on the stoop. One set of heavy male footsteps headed away from the screen door, the other walked in. Rand took a moment to look her over, head to toe.

Resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms, and let him hold her for as long as he wanted this time, Ginger stayed where she was.

Although she had gotten over her ex’s betrayal and her divorce a long time ago, she still felt frustrated, as well as a little embarrassed, by all the time she had wasted when she was with Conrad.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. Her days of trying to win a man’s respect were over. He either gave it to her or he didn’t.

Squinting, Rand stepped a little closer to her. “How long was Profitt here?”

Ginger turned and hazarded a glance at her computer. “Any time at all is too long.”

Silence fell as Rand waited for a more complete answer.

Her body warming as much as if he had actually touched her, Ginger finally replied, “Five minutes, maybe less.” She pivoted toward Rand and studied him in return, wondering if that was a hint of jealousy—or wariness—in his blue eyes.

Knowing she probably would have felt the same if she’d caught him in a tête-à-tête with his ex, she asked, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know Conrad and his colleagues dismissed your drilling strategies out of hand when the two of you were working together.”

She winced. “While pretending to take me seriously.” That humiliation hurt the most.

“What made you realize he wasn’t sincere?” The expression on his handsome face gentling, Rand stepped behind her and massaged the tense muscles between shoulder and spine.

The expert ministrations of his fingers was heavenly. Ginger shut her eyes and leaned into his soothing touch. She hadn’t realized until that second how tense she was.

She released a contented sigh, then forced herself to continue relating the heartbreaking details of her past.

“I was checking my work mail on our home computer one day, and stumbled on an email between my ex and his father. His dad wanted to know when Conrad was going to convince me to quit working and get serious about producing some heirs to the family dynasty. Conrad had apparently promised his father it would be soon, but it wasn’t soon enough for Conrad Senior’s agenda. He urged his son in no uncertain terms to just get on with it, and bribe me with whatever he had to, to make it happen.

“Conrad wrote back and said he and I didn’t work that way. And that he had the utmost confidence that I
would
come around eventually, but not until I got the oil business out of my system. Hence, Conrad wanted to keep humoring me a little while longer. Until I got fed up with constantly falling flat on my face and decided to quit and make babies.”

Rand made a dissenting sound as he worked his way down to her waist, relaxing every taut sinew in his path. Reveling in his tender touch, Ginger shifted to allow him greater access. A little more of this wouldn’t hurt, she told herself. After all, it wasn’t as if they were making love. Besides, if she was this tense, wouldn’t that mean their baby was tense, also?

“I gather you confronted your husband?” Rand asked eventually, kneading her lower back.

So relaxed now her knees were getting a little wobbly, Ginger nodded. “Conrad admitted he had never wanted me to work after we were married. He felt one career was enough for any couple.”

Rand took her hand and guided her over to the love seat. His tone a husky murmur, he ventured, “You disagreed.”

Ginger sank into the thick comfortable cushions. She watched as Rand took a seat beside her. Idly, she took his hand in hers and gave it a brief appreciative squeeze. “I saw what not having something of her own, to give her life purpose, did to my mother, over time. How much happier she was when she started working again and had a life outside of mine. I didn’t want to travel the path she did.” Ginger paused and bit her lip. “And I still don’t.”

“So what
do
you want?” he asked gently.

She turned her gaze to his. “I want it all. Satisfying career, family.”
Love.
“And if I can’t have that,”
as she fully expected she probably would not, in the end,
“then I want to know I will always be able to support myself and my baby. That I don’t need anyone else to do so.”
Or,
she added silently,
anyone else to make me feel happy and complete. I want to do that on my own.

Rand continued to study her thoughtfully. He kept her hand in his when she would have let his go. “First of all, it’s
our
baby,” he corrected her finally, his expression kind. “And you don’t ever have to worry about having money to raise our child safely and comfortably because I will more than see to that.”

Guilt flared in Ginger. Belatedly she realized how selfish she had just sounded.

Rand paused, his gaze roving her flushed cheeks. “Second, you’d have more of a nest egg if you held on to your inheritance from your dad and went to work for someone else.”

Ginger knew that, too. She extricated her hand from his and stood. “But I wouldn’t be independent, Rand. And for me—” she paused, looking intently into his eyes “—independence is key.”