Love Isn’t Part of the Deal

Ginger Rollins can’t believe she gave in to temptation—again! It’s time for her and Rand McCabe to face the consequences. Never mind that the geological engineer and sexy environmental cowboy are on opposite sides when it comes to the Texas land they both love. Now that she’s pregnant, they have one option.

Rand isn’t used to being proposed to by a woman—especially one as gorgeous as Ginger—but he’s all for getting married. Too bad the independent wildcatter sees their union as a nonnegotiable deal. Doesn’t she know they share more than hot chemistry? How long can he keep his feelings—and their baby—a secret? Rand vowed to love and honor Ginger forever. And it’s a promise he intends to keep….

Rand’s blue eyes gleamed. “So you’re proposing to me?”

“I know that’s typically a man’s domain,” Ginger replied.

He smiled. “You think I’d take my sweet time about it, is that it?”

He certainly took his sweet time about a lot of things. In bed, anyway. Ginger flushed, disturbed that the only way they knew each other all that well was sensually.

She waved off his assertion. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” She stuck her hat back on her head. “I just want a ring on my finger before any more time elapses. So that by the time I’m showing and we have to start telling people I’m pregnant, we’ll already be married, and it won’t be such a big deal.”

His eyes never left hers as he stood there in that very still way that he had. “Oh, it’s a big deal, all right,” he said in a low, soft voice that sent ribbons of sensation coasting down her spine.

Dear Reader,

Life would be pretty boring if nothing ever changed. On the other hand, unexpected change often causes havoc in our personal and professional lives.

Such is the case for environmental engineer Rand McCabe and wildcatter Ginger Rollins. Neither plan to marry anytime soon. Never mind live in a honeymoon cottage with each other for the rest of the year! Yet unexpected circumstances quickly force them to do both.

And there the fun begins. Ginger vows sharing quarters with the sexy McCabe heartthrob will not alter her feelings or feisty, independent outlook in the slightest. For her, it’s business first, last and always. The family-oriented Rand wants their relationship to grow into something much more satisfying, but only if the maddeningly elusive Ginger will let down her guard, and open up her heart.

Neither Ginger nor Rand understand that when life changes, they must change, too.

For more information on this and other books, please visit me at www.cathygillenthacker.com, and on Facebook and Twitter.

Best wishes, and happy reading!

Cathy Gillen Thacker

The Texas Wildcatter’s Baby

Cathy Gillen Thacker

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy Gillen Thacker is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heartwarming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular Mills & Boon author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings, and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website, at www.cathygillenthacker.com, for more information on her upcoming and previously published books, recipes and a list of her favorite things.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

Excerpt

Chapter One

Whoever would have thought, Ginger Rollins wondered, that a tiny plus sign would have the power to forever change her life? But there it was. Bold as ever in the window of the testing device.

She sighed and stood, her knees wobbling as she paced the length of the nondescript hotel room she currently called home. Barely able to wrap her mind around the stunning news—she thought back to the rowdy town hall meeting in Summit, Texas, just six weeks ago. Where she’d locked eyes—and disputed ideas—with one tall, sexy, indomitable Texan.

If only her passionate arguing with Rand McCabe had ended there.

But no, as per usual whenever they met up, the two of them hadn’t been able to call it quits when the meeting ended, and instead had taken their verbal clashing down the street to the establishment that stayed open the latest in that small mountain town. Equal parts pub, dance hall and pool parlor, the cavernous tavern was packed to the rafters with a singles-only event meant to take away the annual sting of Valentine’s Day for the romantically unattached.

The band was loud, the company lively, the margaritas so strong you had to surrender your car keys and sign a pledge promising not to drink and drive to even get one.

If only, Ginger thought, she had stopped there, said a cool but firm good-night to Rand, and stuck to her usual ginger ale. Instead she had risen to the challenge of the ruggedly handsome environmentalist, and taken a seat beside him at the bar, where their disagreement had turned to laughter, their animosity to shameless flirting. Along with a host of others, they had closed the place down and taken the party bus back to her room at the Summit Inn.

The next thing Ginger knew sunlight had been streaming through the blinds. Her body still humming with the bone-deep satisfaction that was every bit as familiar to her as he was, she’d opened her eyes and groaned, aware it had happened. Again.

Only this time she had a scarlet heart with a broken arrow tattooed just below her shoulder. Rand had an exploding heart inked on his upper arm. And both of them were as naked as the day they were born. Ginger had moaned in dismay, because once again she’d felt way too exposed and vulnerable. “I don’t believe this,” she’d whispered to herself. When would she ever learn?

“Can’t say I mind,” a low masculine voice had drawled back.

Ginger winced. “Of course you don’t mind,” she’d muttered. He’d had a great time.

They both had.

“In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever had a better Valentine’s Day,” he’d added.

As confident—and determined—as ever, Rand had turned his ruggedly handsome face and warm, strong body to hers. The stubble of morning beard, a shade darker than his rumpled mahogany hair, had lined his jaw. A sexy smile turned up the corners of his lips. But it was the compelling masculine intensity of his midnight-blue eyes when he’d admired her tousled hair and kiss-swollen lips that had really left her enthralled.

Damn him for reminding her just how right they were together. In bed anyway....

Ginger knew she should have said no when Rand’s grin broadened and he’d reached for her again. Instead she’d given in to overwhelming desire and said yes to making love one last time.

To her relief, their coordinating tattoos hadn’t been real. But apparently the consequences of their actions had been. And now, Ginger thought, on a fresh wave of emotion, she had to decide what to do before any more precious time elapsed.

* * *

RAND MCCABE HAD collected eleven of the twelve soil samples he needed from in and around the Summit Creek bed when the pickup stopped just south of him. The door opened and an achingly familiar woman, with a mane of long copper-colored hair, stepped out into the warm spring sunshine.

A real looker, Ginger Rollins was dressed much like the last time he had seen her, in formfitting jeans, white T-shirt and button-up Western vest. Her leather boots were thick and sturdy, meant for traversing hard-scrabble ground. Her stone suede hat had a rolled brim that spoke volumes about her sassy attitude.

And while Rand could not help but admire the sultry curves on her tall, statuesque frame, it was her pretty face, the pert, straight nose and soft, sensual lips that had haunted his dreams.

One more night together shouldn’t have made all the difference.

But it had.

Perhaps that’s why it bothered him more than usual that she’d been steadily avoiding his calls, texts and emails for the past six weeks, as was always the case after they hooked up....

His gut clenching with a mixture of impatience and anticipation, he watched Ginger stride toward him, her long legs eating up the ground. Slender shoulders squared, her chin held high, she moved with a smooth, effortless grace that made his heart jackhammer in his chest. Unfortunately there was no way of telling what she was thinking or feeling, given the sunglasses shading her dark green eyes. Figuring it best that he be standing when they faced off, Rand straightened to his full height. He set the soil sample in the bed of his truck. Inched off his leather gloves. Waited.

Her purposeful steps stopped just in front of him. Keenly aware that she owed him a big apology, for her usual lack of post-hooking-up etiquette, he looked at her expectantly.

Several long moments passed. Then she stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and squared her shoulders again. Another beat of silence. Finally she said, “There’s no other way to put this, so I’m just going to spit it out. I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant. The word rolled around in his brain, refusing to compute. She was pregnant?

Ginger offered a weak smile, but did not take off her sunglasses. The silence between them stretched. Within him, anger and irritation surged. After weeks of ignoring him, now this? He took off his sunglasses, so she could see his eyes.

“Is this an April Fool’s joke?” he demanded. Yet another way to torment him? If so, he wasn’t laughing.

Every inch of her five-foot-eight-inch frame tensed. She let out a long, slow breath that first lifted then lowered her full shapely breasts. “Believe me, McCabe, I was as caught off-guard as you are.”

He stared at her, still considering what to do and say next that wouldn’t make the situation even more volatile.

Finally she took off her sunglasses.

To his surprise, she looked calm. Every emotional defense she had firmly in place. As though this whole speech was something she had rehearsed.

“Anyway.” Ginger paused, appearing not to share the complex feelings roiling around inside him. “I thought I should tell you. Probably in person.” She took another deep breath, suddenly looking oddly vulnerable. “So...” She gestured broadly, then started to pivot away from him.

Not about to let her run away from him again, especially now, he stopped her exodus with a light hand to her shoulder. Turned her slowly back to face him. “You’re sure?” he asked quietly, searching her eyes, aware a sort of happy acceptance was beginning to crowd out the shock within him.

“Yes,” she said softly, meeting his gaze for one long, telling moment that had them both—however briefly—on the same page. “When I first saw the plus sign in the indicator window, I was hoping it was a glitch in the home pregnancy test. Which is why—” She rummaged around in her back pocket, finally producing a folded piece of paper. “I saw a doctor over in Marfa and had a blood test and physical exam.”

Her fingers brushed his briefly as she gave him the paper. It had her name and confidential patient information, all right, as well as lab results and the word “Positive.” Under diagnosis, he saw “Pregnancy” listed, along with a projected due date of November sixth.

Their eyes met once again. Emotion shimmered between them as another long, awkward silence fell. He wasn’t sure what she expected of him. Wasn’t entirely sure what he felt, either. Except for the tiny hint of joy.

She assessed him with a long, level look and blurted, “Aren’t you going to ask me if the baby is yours?”

Rand knew that would have been the logical response if their latest one-night stand had been with two people who were accustomed to having one-night stands. Neither of them was. That made her habitual running away from him—from the passion they shared—all the harder to understand and accept, given that their intermittent lovemaking had been ongoing for more than a year now.

“No.”

Her green eyes glimmered with barely suppressed emotion. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t have to, Ginger,” he said. “I know it is.”

Seeming vaguely insulted by his confidence, she squinted at him, then retorted, “How?”

Aggravated to find her still wanting to downplay what they’d experienced, which had been pretty spectacular, he returned, just as contentiously, “Because it was apparent from the very first time we ever went to bed together that you knew nothing about having a fling, and even less about turning an ongoing series of flings into a relationship.”

She flushed. Guilty as charged. Shaking her head, she rasped, “We are such a bad match.”

In certain ways, Rand conceded readily. In others... He couldn’t disagree more. Because deep down, he had never felt anything like what he felt when he was with her. Nor—if his instincts were correct—had she. She was just too stubborn to admit it.

Sensing she was about ready to bolt, he let out a rough breath and stepped closer. “Well, given that we have a little one on the way, we’re going to have to find a way to do better.”

His gruff reminder brought a much needed dose of reality back to the situation.

“I agree,” Ginger said. “Which is why,” she continued resolutely, looking straight at him, “I’d like the two of us to make it official, at least for a while.”

* * *

FOR ONCE, Ginger noted, Rand McCabe had absolutely nothing to say. And that left her scrambling to put a halt to whatever confused notions he had. Hating how awkward this all felt, she lifted a cautioning hand. “Naturally, it won’t be a real relationship.”

Something flickered in his blue eyes then fled. “Naturally.”

Trying not to think how attracted to him she was, she cleared her throat. “It’d be more like a business arrangement to get us through the birth.”

And since they were both small business owners, she figured he would appreciate her matter-of-fact approach to their predicament. To her shock, however, it seemed to have done the opposite.

Still trying to get some sense of where she stood with him, Ginger let out a shaky breath and added, “Although there are obvious social advantages to being a ‘family’ while we await the birth of our baby...legally, it would also be easier.”

He lifted a questioning brow, his gaze roving her head to toe.

Tingling everywhere his eyes had touched—and everywhere they hadn’t—Ginger explained, “Under Texas law, a child born to a man and woman who are not married has no legal father. Conversely, if we’re husband and wife when the baby is born, the child will automatically be yours in the eyes of the law. No additional paperwork will need to be done to establish paternity before we can put your name on our child’s birth certificate.”

“Looks like you’ve thought of everything,” Rand said dryly.

Ginger had certainly tried. “It’s all online. You can research it through the Texas attorney general’s website, too.”

Again, Rand merely nodded.

Frustrated he wasn’t more forthcoming with his thoughts and feelings, she groaned. “Fortunately, we won’t have to stay married too long.” A little less than nine months, the way she figured it.

This time he moved closer. He stopped mere inches short of her. She inhaled the scent of soap and sun and man.

His blue eyes gleamed. “So you’re proposing to me?”

Why did she suddenly feel as though that was a bad thing? “I know that’s typically a man’s domain.”

He lowered his head, until they were nose to nose and she had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Uh, yeah!”

His gruff words were a direct hit to her carefully constructed defenses. Aware there were times when he made her feel very safe, and times—like now—when he made her feel very off-kilter, Ginger shrugged nonchalantly. “But I didn’t want to wait for you to get around to it.”

He smiled. “You think I’d take my sweet time about it, is that it?”

He certainly took his sweet time about a lot of things. In bed, anyway. Ginger flushed, disturbed that the only way they knew each other all that well, was sensually.

She waved off his assertion. “Don’t know. Don’t care.” She moved to put her sunglasses back on, but stuffed them in her vest pocket instead. “I just want a ring on my finger before any more time elapses. So that by the time I’m showing and we have to start telling people I’m pregnant, we’ll already be married, and it won’t be such a big deal.”

His eyes never left hers as he stood there in that utterly disarming way that he had. “Oh, it’s a big deal, all right,” he said in a low, soft voice that sent ribbons of sensation coasting down her spine.

She craned her neck to meet his gaze. “You know what I mean, McCabe. If we’ve already been hitched for three months or so before I have to start telling people I’m expecting, then people aren’t going to think much of it. It’s going to be old news a lot faster than it otherwise would be.”

“Or in other words—” his eyes never wavered from her face “—you don’t want people to think we had to get married.”

Determined to keep him at arm’s length, Ginger fought the waves of sexual magnetism that always existed between them. “There’s no such thing as having to get married in this day and age. But...”

He frowned. “There’s always a caveat with you, isn’t there?”

So what if there is? Ginger liked to be prepared for any eventuality, especially the bad stuff.

She stiffened her spine and plunged on. “Since the majority of the clients I want to put under contract are very traditional in their outlook, it makes sense for me—us—to be married. So that I will appear more...”

“Settled?”

She gave him a withering look before finally conceding, “Traditional, too.”

Rand rubbed the flat of his palm across the nape of his neck. “Except for the fact that anyone who knows you at all kind of knows that you aren’t conventional, Ginger. Not in the slightest.”

True, she hadn’t been. Until she’d realized they had a baby on the way. Knowing she had to provide for someone other than herself had changed everything. Made her yearn for as much stability as possible in her personal—and professional—life. Which included finding a way to land her first big contract as an independent oil woman, ASAP.

“Marrying you will show everyone that I’m finally ready to settle down. That it’s safe to trust my skill as a geologist, and to sign with me.”

And that, in turn, would give their child the safe harbor he or she would need, even after she and Rand parted ways.

He sighed. “So this isn’t just about the baby. It’s about oil, too?”

Ginger nodded, as ready to be totally upfront about that as everything else. “The word on the street is that Summit County is going to lift their temporary moratorium on horizontal drilling any day now. When that happens, there’s going to be a stampede of wildcatters trying to get landowners signed up.”

“In particular Dot and Clancy Boerne.”

A brief smile flickered across her face. “The fifty-thousand-acre Boerne ranch is where the most oil is expected to be.”

“You think being pregnant and unmarried would eliminate you from the running?” he asked, sliding her a long, contemplative look.

In a word, yes. Ginger shrugged. “It’s no secret that I’ve had an uphill battle trying to convince people to do business with me because I’m young, and female and a lot less experienced than some of the others vying for business.”

He grinned, as if admiring her moxie. “And yet you persist.”

He was darned right she did. “Just because wildcatting is still primarily a man’s domain, doesn’t mean it needs to stay that way.”

Rand spoke with the respect of a son of the best lady wildcatter in the state of Texas, Josie Corbett-Wyatt McCabe. “Of course not.”

“Furthermore, I’ve already demonstrated time after time I have a knack for coming up with drilling plans that get oil out of places that were previously considered inaccessible.” Drilling plans that should have had her promoted at her previous job with Profitt Oil, if there had been any fairness involved. Which there hadn’t been. “I just need a chance to show everyone what I can do now that I’ve ventured out on my own.”

He rubbed the flat of his hand beneath his jaw. “Well, as long as you’re confident...”

“I didn’t expect you to cheer me on. Since all you want to do is stop people from drilling—”

“Irresponsibly,” he interrupted, adding that important qualification. He had nothing against getting oil out of the ground, as long as it was done safely and with minimal environmental impact.

Ginger planted her hands on her hips, aware they were on the verge of yet another of their famously passionate arguments. “Well, I’m not irresponsible.”

“And yet you’re pregnant.”

Ginger flushed. She should have known he would bring the conversation back to their lovemaking. He always did when they clashed, probably because he knew the topic got her even more worked up. “You get half the credit for that, cowboy. And it’s not as though we didn’t...”

“Use protection?” A hint of amusement filled his voice.

Ginger shook her head. “If the condom hadn’t broken that one time...”

“There’d be no baby on the way.”

No reason for them to be together now.

Another silence fell, this one slightly less combative.

Aware that if she wasn’t careful she really would fall under his spell, Ginger stepped back and turned away. Needing a moment to pull herself together again, she swept off her hat and ran her fingers through her hair, doing her best to restore order to the tousled strands. For a long moment her gaze traversed the winding creek, fields of wildflowers and the granite mountains rising in the distance. With the blue sky overhead, and a warm breeze flowing over them, it really was a beautiful spring day. Quiet, too, since the Trans-Pecos region of far west Texas was not just rugged and vast, but sparsely populated.

But that, too, would change if what everyone was predicting, the oil boom that had already hit many other areas of the state, actually happened here in Summit County.

With a sigh, Ginger turned back to Rand. Realized all over again just how devastatingly handsome he was. As she finally met his eyes, she sensed she wasn’t the only one feeling conflicted about everything that was going on. “Look. I know it goes against your grain, having to get hitched to me, even temporarily. That when the time comes for you to really settle down, you’ll want someone a lot more...more...” She grasped for the right word.

He leaned forward and helped her out. “Demure?”

Irked, she narrowed her eyes at him and slapped her hat back on her head. “Whatever.” Although to be truthful she couldn’t imagine him with anyone else. “As far as you and I are concerned, however, this is only a temporary arrangement. One that can be undone as soon after the baby is born as possible.”

“And in the meantime?”

Ginger shrugged. “We don’t even have to live together. Well, not really,” she added hastily. “Especially if you end up working in another part of the state—”

“Not happening. I’m consulting in Summit County until the boom is over, same as you.”

She had been afraid of that. “Then we’ll get a place with separate bedrooms.”

“Why?” He smirked in a way meant to infuriate. “We’ll only end up in the same one.”

“No. We. Won’t. Sleeping together is what got us into this mess.”

He rubbed his jaw with maddening nonchalance. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.” The corner of his mouth twitched in barely checked amusement. “That’s one vow you’ll never keep.”

Flustered by his blatant delight at her frustration, Ginger shoved her hand through her hair. She didn’t know why she let him get to her this way. “I don’t know what it is about you and me that has us arguing every time we’re around each other,” she complained.

The wicked gleam in his eyes said he did.

“But right now,” Ginger continued single-mindedly, “we need to focus on the least disruptive and most expedient way to say our I Do’s.”

Rand looked no more eager to head home and involve their families than she did. “Right here in Summit County is fine with me.”

“Me, too,” Ginger breathed, glad they were finally in concert about something. But then she felt the compelling pull of his gaze and her relief fizzled away. Steadfastly ignoring the shimmer of awareness sifting through her, she went back to her truck to collect the research she had already gathered, in preparation. Returning, she handed him his copy. “So here’s the plan....”

* * *

RAND HAD NEVER been one to let a woman take the lead. It just wasn’t in his nature. However, he knew that Ginger was right; they needed to get married as quickly as possible. Otherwise, Ginger was likely to change her mind and bolt again. Only this time she’d be taking his unborn child with her.

So the two of them left the creek bed and went straight to the county clerk’s office in Summit, Texas. They applied for a marriage license and made an appointment with a justice of the peace for as soon as the three-day waiting period expired.

“So I’ll see you here Thursday at noon?” Ginger said on the courthouse steps after they had finished the paperwork.

Rand nodded. “You want to meet here? Or have me pick you up?”

“We can meet here.”

He had figured she would say that. Although that, too, was going to have to change. Married people rode in the same vehicle, at least from time to time.

Pausing again, Ginger eyed him cautiously. “I’m just going to wear jeans...”

He shrugged. What did it matter since this wasn’t a real marriage? “Okay.”

“So no tie or anything,” Ginger persisted.

He hooked his thumbs through the loops on either side of his fly. “Shirt and shoes optional, too?”

Flushing slightly, she told him archly, “You know what I mean.”

He sure did. He rocked forward on his toes. “How about flowers? You want a corsage or anything?”

“Certainly not!” She appeared insulted at the thought.

He lowered his face until they were nose to nose. “You’re bringing your own?”

She scoffed in disgust and stepped back in a drift of orange blossom perfume. “I’m not having any.”

Of course she wasn’t. Aware Ginger brought the D to difficult, Rand retorted, “Is everything about us—as a couple—going to be this nonsensical?”

“Ultra casual,” she corrected. “And probably.”

Rand could only imagine how their families were going to take to that. His parents didn’t necessarily want everything to be fancy, but they did expect occasions such as weddings to be incredibly special. He’d only met Ginger’s mother once—in passing—but Cordelia Rollins had struck him as the ultimate helicopter parent. And one who would definitely want a big elaborate wedding for her only daughter. Not a hasty elopement.

“All right, then,” Rand said finally, making note not to adorn his new bride with any gift of a sentimental nature. “Good to know.”

Ginger’s hands flew to her hips. “You don’t have to be so caustic.”

As if he had started it. He let his gaze drift lazily over her before returning to her beautiful, emerald eyes. “You don’t have to be so prickly,” he shot back.

Her chin lifted in that all-too-familiar way. She sized him up for a long, thoughtful moment, then stepped a little closer. “Well, maybe it’s a good thing you’re so impossible.”

He shortened the distance between them even more, until only mere inches remained, then drawled, “And why, pray tell, is that?”

“Because then it won’t be a surprise to anyone when we decide to go our separate ways a year from now.”

“Or sooner,” he allowed with a sigh, not seeing at that moment how they were going to make it one month as a married couple, much less all the way to their baby’s birth.

“So...I’ll see you Thursday?” she said finally.

He held her gaze, aware that for reasons he preferred not to examine too closely, he was looking forward to their next step every bit as much as she seemed to be openly dreading it. “At noon.”

Her mouth twitching with satisfaction, she decreed, “I’ll see you then,” and sashayed off toward her pickup without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

True to her word, Ginger showed up on the courthouse steps Thursday at noon. In worn jeans, fancy Western boots, a white, lace-trimmed knit shirt and rose-colored vest, she looked pretty as a picture. “Ready?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” Rand returned, more than ready to get the formality over with, too.

They walked into the courthouse, side by side. Only to promptly discover, to their mutual dismay, that all was not as it should be, after all.

“What do you mean we can’t get married today?” Ginger lamented when they found out the justice of the peace set to conduct their ceremony was not even on the premises. “We made an appointment to get married at noon!”

“I know.” The middle-aged court clerk swept a hand over his buzz-cut hair. “And believe me, the justice is sorry, but it can’t be helped. It’s a ‘family’ thing.” Then he continued, a little lamely, “So if you all want the J.P. to marry you, you’re going to have to reschedule...”

Not about to give up that easily, Rand asked, “Is there someone else who could perform the ceremony?”

“Not today. But...” The clerk studied the calendar on the computer in front of him. “The J.P. could fit you in a week from now, at three.”

A week was too long to wait. Rand could see his bride-to-be thought so, too.

Ginger swung toward him, her body nudging his in the process. “What are we going to do?” she asked plaintively. “You told your parents you’re coming to Laramie this evening to see them.” She threw up her hands. “My mother is expecting me in San Angelo first thing tomorrow morning.”

They hadn’t told either of their families they weren’t coming alone. That news, they had figured, could wait until they arrived, announced their “elopement” and introduced their new spouse, all in one fell swoop.

Aware she was sounding a little more emotional than usual—probably due to her pregnancy—Rand felt a surge of protectiveness rush through him. He gave Ginger’s hand a brief, reassuring squeeze. “And we’ll keep those promises,” he said.

He dropped her hand and turned back to the clerk with a possible solution. “Do we have to get married in Summit County for our license to be valid?”

The beleaguered clerk perked up. “No, sir. Anywhere in the State of Texas is fine.”

Rand thanked the clerk and they left the justice of the peace’s office.

Ginger shot Rand a sidelong glance as they walked toward the exit. Their footsteps echoed on the polished marble floors. “I gather you have a plan?” she asked.

“I do.” He held the door for her, and accompanied her out into the midday heat of the spring day and down the broad limestone steps. “Even better, the place is sort of a McCabe family tradition. Which means—” he paused to give her a level look, hoping she would cooperate with him just this once “—it’ll give our union an air of authenticity we probably wouldn’t get any other way.”

Although they hadn’t talked about it, Ginger seemed to know what a hard sell their surprise elopement was going to be—for both families. Their eyes met and held once again. After a moment she took a deep breath, squared her slender shoulders and vowed softly, “Then I’m all-in.”

* * *

AT RAND’S INSISTENCE, they would leave her truck behind and take his pickup for the drive north.

At Ginger’s insistence, they phoned ahead to their destination, to make sure that Jeff-Paul Randall could marry them. The internet-certified minister slash business owner promised to be there when they arrived around five o’clock.

Relieved to have that arranged, Ginger climbed into the passenger seat of Rand’s gray hybrid pickup and settled in beside the tall, broad-shouldered Texan.

Trying not to think about the fact he would soon be her husband, at least in name only, Ginger turned her attention to the rugged scenery. The creosote flats peppered with yucca and cholla cactus gradually gave way to elevations of higher rainfall, pinyon pine and scrub oak. Oil wells, cattle ranches and the occasional wind farm abounded, but towns were few and far between as they traversed the canyons, landed on Interstate 20 and gradually left the desert prairies and majestic mountains of the Trans-Pecos behind.

Rand said little during the four-and-a-half-hour drive. Ginger was quiet, too. In truth, there wasn’t much to say. She just wanted the elopement to be over and done with. Although he didn’t say as much, she was pretty sure Rand felt that way, too.

Finally they hit the outskirts of Laramie County. Minutes later they approached their destination: J.P. Randall’s Bait and Tackle Shop. The squat, flat-roofed building with its peeling white paint was in the middle of nowhere, and just rundown enough to make it disreputable without being dangerous. Frequented by sportsmen and campers en route to Lake Laramie from the west, as well as people looking to fill up their gas tanks, or to be wed in a hurry, it was usually populated by a few cars and trucks.

Ginger knew, because she had stopped there herself a few times when in this part of the state. Never before, though, had she seen the establishment rimmed by three Laramie County Sheriff’s Department squad cars. “I wonder what’s going on.”

Rand frowned. “The lights aren’t flashing on the squad cars. Nothing is cordoned off by yellow tape...”

When Rand shrugged his broad shoulders, Ginger hitched in a breath. Masculine sinew strained against the soft chambray of his shirt, and she yearned to feel those smooth, rippled muscles beneath her fingertips....

“Maybe the deputies are just on a break,” he said, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Maybe.” Still, her feminine intuition told her it was more than that.

His expression serious, Rand pulled into the lot. The two of them got out of his pickup just as three men in khaki uniforms exited the shop. They grinned in recognition and Rand muttered a low curse as one of the men raised a hand in greeting. The other two deputies amiably followed suit.

Ginger pivoted to her husband-to-be.

So much for relative secrecy, she thought. “Obviously you know these men,” she drawled. No surprise, in a rural county, where he had not only been born, but grown up.

Rand locked eyes on the approaching trio of law enforcement officers. A half smile tugged at the corners of his lips, yet his gaze remained wary. “Yep.”

Her body tingling with a mixture of frustration and wariness, Ginger turned her attention back to the trio. All were about Rand’s age, which meant early-to mid-thirties. All were well over six feet tall with fit, muscular physiques, all teemed with testosterone. But one of them was more similar to Rand than the other two. The badge on his chest said Deputy Colt McCabe.

It was all Ginger could do not to groan. “Tell me you’re not related.”

“Okay, we’re not related,” Rand repeated facetiously.

Except they clearly were.

Deputy Colt McCabe slapped Rand on the back. “Hey, there, baby brother.”

Rand braced, as if ready for more teasing. “Colt.” The word was clipped and dry, yet oddly welcoming.

Colt McCabe’s wicked smile broadened. He inclined his fine-looking head at Ginger and asked his brother, “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

Keeping his gaze trained on his older brother’s, Rand angled his thumb at Ginger, as if they were no more than the most casual of acquaintances. A fact that for some unknown reason annoyed the heck out of her.

“This is Ginger Rollins.” He turned, briefly catching her eye. Warning flashed in his expression. He, too, thought something was up, and wordlessly urged her to play along with whatever he said and did.

And really, Ginger thought, what choice did she have?

“Ginger,” Rand continued with laudable politeness, “my brother Colt.”

Colt tipped his Stetson in her direction. “Pleased to meet you.”

Rand went on reluctantly. “This is Rio Vasquez.” He nodded at the olive-skinned lawman, then the dark-haired man beside him. “And my cousin, Kyle McCabe.”

Ginger shook all three deputies’ hands in turn and uttered a cheerful greeting to each.

“So what brings the two of you to the bait shop?” Colt asked.

Ginger had a feeling, from the way Colt McCabe’s eyes had initially been twinkling, that he already knew. So much for their plan of calling ahead to ensure there were no further delays.

Rand kept his poker face. “Nothing much,” he told his older brother. “You?”

Colt’s silence was answer enough.

Rio continued, in all seriousness, “We heard you have a marriage license in your possession that was issued in Summit County four days ago.”

Rand pressed his fingers to his eyes and grimaced.

Wondering what her husband-to-be knew that she didn’t, Ginger asked, “Is there a problem?”

All three deputies exchanged looks. “Mind if we take a look at it?” Kyle McCabe asked.

Unhappy that their marriage license might somehow be suspect, Ginger took it out of her handbag and handed it over. Kyle inspected it, then showed it to Vasquez and McCabe. All three shook their heads in silent remonstration.

“Just as we thought,” Rio declared, eyes twinkling.

Kyle McCabe handed the license back to Ginger and said, “We’re going to need the two of you to get back in your vehicle and follow us.”

Whatever the joke, Rand was clearly not in the mood. He paused, as if weighing his options. “And if we don’t?” he challenged.

Colt McCabe gave his younger brother another long, provoking look. “I think you can imagine,” he retorted. “Sometimes it’s just best to go along to get along, if you know what I mean.”

“Go along with what?” Ginger asked.

Rand shoved a hand through his mahogany hair and muttered something under his breath that Ginger was just as glad not to be able to decipher. More meaning-laced looks passed between the four men.

Aware Rand seemed more exasperated and annoyed than concerned about whatever it was that was going on, Ginger knit her brow in consternation. “Is there something wrong with the marriage license?” Because if there was...

More looks. These seeming to tell Rand to keep her in the dark, at least for a little while longer.

Rand placed a protective hand at her back and turned Ginger toward his truck. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing her ear and muttered, “We only wish that were all this was.”

* * *

“YOU WANT TO tell me what’s really going on?” Ginger asked when the caravan had headed down the highway, in the opposite direction from which they’d come.

A mixture of resentment and resignation warred on his handsome face. “I’d rather not speculate,” he said finally.

Okay. Next question. “Do we even have to go with them, then?” The three lawmen had made it clear, as they were getting in their patrol cars, that they weren’t currently “on duty” with the sheriff’s department. Colt had just gotten off shift, Rio hadn’t yet started his and Kyle was on break. So, it was clear that whatever this was, it wasn’t exactly official.

“No,” Rand returned in a low voice. Having come to terms with their predicament, though, he was resigned to handling it with his usual good humor. “But we’d just be putting off until later what we may as well handle now.”

Ginger rolled her eyes. “Well, that clears things up.”

Rand reached over, put his hand on her knee and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Want my advice?”

Making no effort to hide her growing frustration, she plucked his hand from her leg as if it were an odious insect. “No, but I guess you’re going to give it to me anyway.”

Rand chuckled. “I suggest you relax and enjoy the peace and quiet, because it sure as heck won’t last for long.”

Turned out, Rand was right about that. The minute they passed beneath the wrought-iron archway announcing the spread owned by Wade and Josie McCabe, and headed down the tree-lined path to the big stone-and-cedar ranch house, they saw the catering trucks and the big white tents on the back lawn. Musicians were already setting up. Acutely aware of their casual attire, Ginger shot Rand a startled look. “Please tell me your parents are having a party.”

“It would appear so.”

She added the important caveat, “One that doesn’t involve us.”

“That, I can’t say one way or another. I can tell you all four of my brothers are already here. As well as...”

Ginger’s face fell. She recognized the white Cadillac sedan with the vanity plate #1TXMOM. Her hand flew to her throat. “Oh, no. My mother.” A litany of frustrated words followed.

Rand mirrored her feelings with a groan of his own as the front door to the ranch house swung open and a bevy of McCabes and Rollinses poured out.

Ginger’s mother was dressed in a beaded knee-length suit suitable for a mother of the bride. Perhaps because they were the ones throwing the bash, Josie and Wade were still in jeans, boots and loose-fitting cotton shirts. All three parents looked as privately exasperated and publicly determined as Rand and Ginger felt.

Rand and Ginger got out of the pickup, waved goodbye to the departing lawmen and met their families midyard. “How did you find out?” Rand asked.

Josie McCabe scowled at her youngest son. “A reporter from the Summit Journal-News called me three days ago to ask me how I felt about my environmentalist son marrying a rival lady wildcatter. From there it was easy enough to find out a marriage license had been issued, so I called Cordelia Rollins to find out what she knew...”

Ginger’s mom picked up where Josie left off. “And lo and behold, I knew nothing.”

Wade added, “We all talked and decided if you two were going to get married, you were going to do it with friends and family present.”

Josie nodded. “So I called the justice of the peace in Summit and asked him to hold off.”

That explained the mysterious family matter that had kept the court official from marrying Rand and Ginger. “We already knew you were coming home this evening, so it was...well, not easy—” Josie frowned “—but possible, with Cordelia’s help, to get a wedding set up here.”

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.”

* * *

LEAVE 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.

* * *

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.

“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.”

“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?”

* * *

GINGER 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?”

Actually, yes, but that would lead to nothing but trouble. And they were in enough hot water as it was. So, instead, she gave him The Look.

Grin widening, he set it down. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”

He, however, did not look any the less discouraged. Trying not to think about what the mischievous light in his blue eyes portended, Ginger went back to studying the contents of her bag, then buried her face in her hands. “Well, now what are we going to do?” She had hoped to get two rooms somewhere and wear practical cotton pajamas to bed. Alone.

Beside her, Rand shook his head, looking just as distraught. “I don’t know. We can’t wear any of this.” He shrugged helplessly. “We’ll just have to go to bed naked.”

Ha! As if he could rope her into that! After the incredibly romantic evening they’d had? Even if it hadn’t been their doing. “Nope. We won’t. You know why? Because—” she disappeared into the bathroom and emerged victoriously with two thick white spa robes “—we have these!”

Rand stroked his jaw, looking ruggedly handsome as ever. He leaned close. Inhaling the scent of him, she realized he still smelled amazing. His expression amused, as if he knew where her thoughts kept wandering, he quipped, “Naked under that is good, too.”

Ginger huffed in indignation. “I won’t be naked.”

His mouth quirked but he held his silence.

“I’ll still have on my underwear.” She felt the need to rush on. “Maybe my stockings, too.” Just for good measure. With him around, she needed every bit of clothing she could get.

When he still said nothing, she turned her gaze back to his. He stood, legs braced apart, hands propped on his waist. “Now what are you thinking?”

His gaze trailed lazily over her before returning ever so slowly to her face. “I’m imagining what kind of frilly, sexy undies you do have on under that dress.”

Squirming with embarrassment, Ginger caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw her cheeks were a deep rose pink. “Well, you’ll never know.” Determined to keep him at arm’s length, both emotionally and physically, Ginger swept into the large bath and shut the door behind her.

Unfortunately, she soon found out, Rand’s playful attitude was the least of her problems.

* * *

“AND HERE I thought you’d be down to your skivvies by now,” Rand drawled when Ginger finally surrendered to the inevitable and opened the bathroom door. She swept into the suite, the skirt of her wedding gown rustling softly as she moved.

To her relief, he had done nothing more about undressing. And was, in fact, reclining on the king-size bed, hands clasped behind his head. His pleated white shirt was half unbuttoned. His cufflinks were off, the sleeves rolled up past his muscular forearms. He’d taken off his shoes, too.

Once again, his eyes caressed her. His gaze lingered on the cleavage spilling out of her fitted bodice, then drifted languidly over her waist, hips and thighs “You do look a mite skinnier now, though,” he said after his long, slow perusal.

Wishing there was another option, Ginger moved toward him reluctantly. “It’s because I took my petticoat off.”

“Ah.” Another pause and furrow of his dark brow. “What’s a petticoat?”

“The froufrou thing that goes under my skirt to make it stand out. It’s sort of like a half-slip for formal attire.” She perched beside him on the bed, aware he hadn’t moved a muscle. He looked turned on and frustrated.

She swallowed around the sudden dryness of her throat. “And you knew that, didn’t you?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sensual smile. “I might not have. Only having brothers and all that.”

Ginger recollected what she knew about the state’s most famously successful lady wildcatter. “But your mom...”

“Was a debutante in Dallas before she met and married my dad.”

“And still goes to a party or two?” Ginger prompted.

Rand nodded proudly. “She does. Although she prefers jeans and boots and an oil rig to any black tie affair.”

Ginger wiggled her toes, which were still aching from the hours spent in beautiful, impractical high heels. “I can second that.”

Rand remained where he was. “So. What’s your problem?” He had all the predatory watchfulness of a man in hot pursuit.

“I can’t seem to get out of this dress,” Ginger admitted reluctantly.

He appeared to mull that over. “You could sleep in it.”

True, but...the fitted bodice was so snug. Ginger wrinkled her nose. “It wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

His grin turned wicked. “Ready to get naked, then?”

Heavens, no! “I just want you to undo the back of my dress. Please.”

Kindness mixed with desire. He laid a hand across his heart. “Well of course I’ll do my husbandly duty.”

Not about to inquire what else that might entail, Ginger turned and reluctantly offered him her back.

Her pulse pounded as he shifted to the edge of the mattress and sat behind her. His bent knee just barely brushed the curve of her buttock. The sensation was exquisitely erotic and sensual. Shivering, Ginger shifted away from him.

He said nothing. Did nothing. She shot him an aggravated look over her shoulder. “Well?”

He lifted his broad shoulders in an affable shrug. “I was waiting on you to come back to me again.”

They were close enough—too close—as it was. They did not need to have actual physical contact to accomplish this. She sucked in a tremulous breath. “Is everything between us going to be this difficult?”

At her irritable demand, a laugh escaped him. “I don’t know. Is it?”

Groaning, she flounced back another inch. “Just undress me!”

His chuckle was warm and sexy, as if she had just given him the opening he needed. Not about to be seduced into thinking this was anything but a temporary business arrangement, Ginger clarified hotly, “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” His hands brushed the skin between her shoulder blades. He struggled with the triple row of close-set hooks at the top of her zipper. One by one, they eventually gave way.

Maddeningly, the zipper did not follow.

“Now what?” Ginger asked, finding the sudden stillness as excruciatingly erotic as his tender touch. Desire blossomed deep inside her.

Rand slid a hand between the fabric and her skin, his touch kindling her overwrought senses even more. “I just want to make sure...”

That she was spontaneously combusting from the inside out? Well, she was! “Rand, come on. Just do it!”

“Well, I sure hope no one can overhear us.” Rand’s voice took on his best needling aw-shucks tone. “Who knows what people might be thinking, us being in the bridal suite and all?”

Ginger groaned again at his clowning around and buried her face in her hands. Rand was doing what he always did when things got too intense between them. He used the combination of their mutual chemistry and his good humor to get her to relax. The trouble was, she didn’t want to relax. Didn’t want to let her guard down with him for one red-hot second.

Just like that, the zipper on her wedding gown came down, easy as you please. Cool air assaulted her spine.

Behind her, Rand sucked in his breath. And went very still.

Silk organza bodice pressed tightly against her breasts, Ginger pivoted to face him. “Now what’s the holdup—?” she started to say. Then stopped at the expression on his face. She knew that look. All too well.

“I was right,” he said. His blue eyes darkened as if he were imagining what the front view of her lace-and-satin bustier, garter belt and tiny panties would be. “Those are some mighty fancy underthings you’ve got on.”

And some very elemental feelings they were both having, Ginger noted. “I think we should stop here,” she said softly. Before they felt even more really and truly married than they did at this moment. Rand nodded, as if agreeing that things were getting way too complicated, way too fast.

“Probably should,” he stated gruffly. “But...how about just one kiss?” Pulling her to him, he dropped his head low. His lips hovered just above hers, tempting...seducing. “It is our wedding night, after all.”

Chapter Four

Knowing it was crazy to even pretend any of this could ever work out, Ginger started to pull back. Only to be brought slowly closer. “One kiss,” Rand repeated. “That’s all I’m asking.”

And all, Ginger thought, she was prepared to give. But when his lips fit over hers, all rational thought went right out of her head. She moaned at the soft, sweet heat. The touch of his tongue to hers sent her even further over the edge. Pulse pounding, body trembling with need, she wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted even closer. Emotions soaring, she nestled the softness of her breasts into the sinewy hardness of his chest.

One kiss melded into another. And another.

The next thing Ginger knew, he was pulling her to her feet. Pushing her unzipped gown down. A circle of ivory satin puddled at her feet.

He paused to take her in; his eyes roving the fullness of her breasts, the nip of her waist and the swell of her hips before sliding downward, along her thighs. Clasping her to him, he kissed her cheek, the line of her jaw, her throat. His lips toured the hollow of her collarbone. Then, straightening slowly, his gaze raked over her with startling possessiveness. Once again, he enveloped her with his warm strength, seeming at that moment to be fighting his own battle.

Tenderness emanated from him as first his fingertips and then his mouth caressed the uppermost curve of her breast. His other hand slid down her back to her hips, finding the delicate stretch of exposed skin between panty and garter belt. His breath was hot against her skin, the lazy ministrations of his mouth giving her a whole body shiver. She arched helplessly, wanting him, wanting this, so much. Feeling wild and wanton, she pressed her lips to his.

He held her face in his hands. “You are so beautiful.”

When he kissed her and touched her like that, she felt beautiful, inside and out. Thrilling at his touch, eager to explore his body, too, she undid the remaining buttons and spread the edges of his shirt. His smooth skin was delineated with hard ridges of muscle. Beneath her questing fingers, she could feel the slow, fierce beating of his heart. The tantalizing traces of his aftershave mingled with the clean fragrance of soap and the more masculine scent unique to him. Needing, wanting, she tangled her fingers in his hair, shimmied up against him, closer yet. “You’re breathtakingly gorgeous, too.”

He laughed softly, his demeanor wickedly sensual, his eyes dark with desire. “I’m glad you think so,” he murmured, “because at least for the time being, you’re stuck with me.”

That, she was, Ginger thought as he kissed her again, his lips warm and sure as his work-roughened palms slid over her, bypassing the barriers of satin and lace. Her nipples beaded against his palms. Lower still, moisture flowed. She trembled as he disrobed her, piece by tantalizing piece, kissing her slowly and seductively all the while.

Anxious for more, she undressed him, too. Kneading, stroking, caressing. And only when she was writhing with passion, did he lower her to the bed and stretch out beside her.

Ginger’s eyes drifted shut as Rand parted her thighs and moved between them, creating ripples of yearning. She caught her breath as the sensations spread and pleasure flooded her in hot, irresistible waves, filling her with sensations unlike any she had ever known, and then there was no more holding back. He cupped her bottom and lifted her toward him, and took her slowly, sweetly.

Emotion overwhelming her, she wrapped her arms and legs around him, urging him on, taking him deeper and deeper. She gave him everything. He demanded more, as did she. And then there was nothing but the intense power of their connection that had them soaring, free, together, once again.

* * *

RAND FELT GINGER’S regret in the slight stiffening of her body, the way he always did as their passion ebbed and their breathing slowed. He wasn’t surprised when she extricated herself and slipped from the bed.

The bathroom door shut softly behind her.

He lay there, listening to the water run, and then all fell silent. He supposed she was using the time to get herself together. He couldn’t blame her. It had been one heck of a day, full of surprises. But in the end, they had achieved their goal, gotten married, and in the process, miraculously received the blessings of their families. Had this been a real marriage, they would have been over the moon with happiness.

But because this wasn’t the usual union, they had to deal with that, and somehow find a way to make it all work.

Figuring she’d been hiding out long enough, Rand got out of bed, pulled on his boxer briefs and walked across the suite. He rapped on the door. “Ginger?”

No answer.

“You okay in there?”

Again, no answer.

Beginning to panic a little, he eased open the door. Ginger was wrapped in a thick white spa robe and seated on the plush stool. She had one arm on the marble vanity in front of her. Her head was nestled in the crook of her elbow and turned toward him. Her breathing was soft and even. As he neared her, he saw the tears dampening her cheeks.

He touched her shoulder. “Ginger...”

She shifted, sinking ever deeper into slumber, and mumbled something incoherent.

Whether she accepted it or not, she needed to be in bed. Rand said her name once more, and when she did not wake, lifted her in his arms. He carried her to the bed and put her gently down, then walked around to the other side and slid in beside her.

Clearly she had her regrets. Suddenly he did, too. But he gathered her close anyway and wrapped his arms around her.

* * *

“YOU’RE SURE YOU want to do this today?” Rand asked the following afternoon.

They’d been on the go since early morning, managing not to talk about anything that had happened the day before, or how their wedding night had ended, at least for Ginger—in private tears and exhausted sleep. Rand, on the other hand, had lain awake most of the night, wondering how they were going to make this all work.

And not just in the public eye.

“I thought I’d made it clear that I do.” Ginger’s determination increased tenfold as his pickup approached Summit’s historic downtown.

The four-and-a-half-hour drive from Lake Laramie to the Trans-Pecos area of Texas had done nothing but energize her. “We need to get this postnuptial agreement done.”

Rand noted the vulnerability she had showed the day before had all but disappeared. And although he respected her strength, he resented the emotional distance she put between them every chance she got. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“Agreed.”

“But?”

He kept his eyes on the Main Street traffic. “I think it could wait until next week. Especially since it’s just a formality.”

Ginger adjusted her sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. “I never put off to tomorrow what can be done today.”

Wasn’t that the truth? Rand thought, parking the truck.

The two of them entered the brick building that housed Michelle Anderson-Garner’s law office. The family law attorney, a willowy blonde in her late thirties, was waiting for them.

She took a seat opposite them in the conference room, and handed each a stack of forms and a pen.

“For this postnuptial agreement to be honored under Texas law, there must first be a full and fair disclosure of property and other financial aspects of each of your estates,” she began. “So, basically, I need a detailed list of every asset and every debt each of you has, as well as any you may have accrued together. We can even go over who gets custody of the family pet, if you have one.”

“What about kids?” Rand asked.

“Children are not covered under a prenuptual or postnuptial. Those issues are decided in family court.”

“Can other issues be included in the postnup?” Ginger queried.

Michelle paused. “Such as?”

“Rand and I have agreed to run our marriage like a business.”

“Okay...”

Ginger sat forward. “So I—we—were thinking of drawing up either a contract or bylaws that would detail how we are going to handle everything else.”

Since when? Rand wondered, taken aback.

“That way,” Ginger continued, “we wouldn’t have to fight about things unnecessarily. We would already know how and where we’re going to live, and so on.”

Like most lawyers, Michelle had a remarkable ability to maintain a poker face. But even this, Rand noted, seemed to throw her for a loop. Not that he could blame the attorney. He’d come here under the impression they were only going to talk about financials.

Oblivious to the stunned reactions of the others in the room, Ginger carried on. “To be truly effective, our marriage contract should cover who is going to cook, or do laundry. Or, maybe we each should be on our own for these types of mundane chores.”

Deciding as long as Ginger insisted on micromanaging all this, he might as well get what he wanted, too, Rand interjected casually, “The bylaws or marriage contract should also cover where we live. How many nights and days we can be apart at one time—or not be apart, as the case may be.” He flashed Ginger a satisfied grin as his next idea hit. “Since both our jobs require travel, maybe we should stipulate that we at least take jobs in the same county.”

Ginger’s brow furrowed. Clearly she hadn’t expected him to speak much at this meeting, if at all.

“Obviously we still have some things to work out...” she said.

“Privately,” Rand added curtly. “And yes, we do.”

Her spine stiffening, Ginger turned back to Michelle. “The point is, Rand and I have both already been divorced once. Neither relationship ended amicably, probably because we both went into those unions too naively. We’re determined not to make the same mistake again.” Ginger squared her shoulders. “Which is why we want to work all this out now.”

Having absorbed everything his wife had said, the attorney turned her attention to Rand. Clearly, Michelle wanted to know where he stood.

“I don’t want to spend all my time with Ginger fighting,” he admitted. “So if it will help to work out all this stuff now, then I’m all in.”

* * *

GINGER EXPECTED THE meeting would last for at least another hour. Instead, Rand suddenly thanked Michelle and promised to make another appointment as soon as they had all the information ready for her to peruse.

Their attorney thought that was a good idea. It would save them on their legal fees, as she was billing them at her hourly rate.

Ginger did not want to pay more than she had to, for services. So she thanked Michelle and rose, too.

Moments later she and Rand were walking out into the spring sunshine. He had been in a mood all day. Quiet and brooding. He kept looking at her, too.

That was probably because he’d apparently had to carry her to bed the night before, when she’d fallen asleep in the bathroom. That was no surprise. In the past few weeks she had been falling asleep more readily and more often than usual. It was, she had learned, a symptom of pregnancy in the first trimester.

Her overabundance of emotions, too. Which was why, she guessed, she had gotten all weepy after they’d made love the night before.

Part of it, of course, was the fact it was their wedding night that wasn’t really a wedding night. At least not in the genuine traditional sense. And the other part was that, if things were different, she could easily see herself falling in love with him.

And she knew she couldn’t let that happen.

Not when the two of them had such different outlooks on life.

Aware he was studying her, in that same careful analytical way, Ginger asked the first question that came to mind. “Why did you cut that meeting short?”

“Because clearly we have some talking to do, and I didn’t want to do it in front of anyone else. Besides—” he pushed an errant strand of hair from her cheek “—it’s been a long couple of days, and you’re looking a little worn around the edges.”

Ginger made an unappreciative face. “Thanks.”

“You’re also pr—”

She touched her finger to his lips before he could finish saying the word.

He stopped, his lips pressed evocatively against her index finger.

Aware this was as close to a kiss as she wanted to get, now or at any other time in the future, Ginger swiftly dropped her tingling hand and stepped back.

Still holding her gaze with a wickedly sensual one of his own, Rand continued. “I figured you could use a little nap before we combine places.”

Lovely. He was bossing her around. Again.

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