THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY Read online

  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...