The Texas Wildcatter's Baby

“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?”

* * *

ACTUALLY, RAND 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.”