The Texas Wildcatter's Baby

“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.

* * *

GINGER 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.

* * *

RAND 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.

* * *

AN 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.