THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  “Now, Rand, please...”

  He gripped her hips. “You first...” His raspy declaration was all it took. Her body exploded in sensation, and as she came, she took him along with her, their locked gazes as steadfast as their hearts.

  * * *

  AN HOUR AND one more lovemaking session later, they were cozily ensconced on the screened-in porch. Clad in pajamas, eating slices of chocolate cake and scoops of homemade vanilla ice cream. He bussed the top of her head. “You are an amazing chef.”

  “Thank you.” She grinned and kissed him back.

  He savored the very last bite. “This is, without a doubt, the best dessert I have ever eaten.”

  Seizing the opportunity, Ginger playfully feigned affront. “That’s the one thing I didn’t actually make.”

  Rand went still. Bemused by the way he constantly felt he had to protect her tender feelings, Ginger chuckled. “Actually, I made that, too.”

  Let off the hook, he gave her a chiding look, then kissed the bridge of her nose. “And she jokes, too.”

  Finished with their desserts, they set their plates aside and cuddled together on the porch swing. Aware she needed to unburden herself to someone, and she wanted that someone to be her husband, Ginger eventually admitted what had been nagging at her all day. “I think I’m going to lose the bid.”

  Rand lifted a dissenting brow. “First of all, you haven’t lost it yet,” he reminded her. “But, if you do, it’ll be because of—”

  Ginger jumped in to list all the mitigating factors. “Maria’s defection, not to mention the fact that I don’t have the skill set to build an entire wildcatting company from scratch.” Exhaling, she turned her troubled gaze to his. “Because if I did, let’s face it, I never would have allowed my ex to sabotage me the way he did.”

  Rand pushed the swing into a lazy comforting rhythm, as matter-of-fact as ever. “For the record, I didn’t see that coming, either.”

  But that wasn’t all that was bothering her. She studied Rand, wanting his reaction to this, too. “The point is, if Dot and Clancy don’t choose me to do the drilling on their land, I’m going to have to make a decision whether to pursue another job with someone else. Or—” and this, she knew, was even trickier “—hold off looking for something else until after the baby comes.”

  Rand shifted her onto his lap. “You know I’ll support you in whatever you do. Especially if you find you really like being a mom and—” he squinted, waiting for her reaction “—want to take time off to have another baby, too.”

  His words were a shock, all right. Ginger put her arms around his shoulders. “Whoa. What?”

  “Well...” Mischief lit his midnight-blue eyes. “Sometimes it’s good to get all the baby-making out of the way at once, if you’re planning on resuming a career, and/or you want to give a child a sibling close in age, so they’ll have a playmate growing up.”

  His logic was both convoluted and oddly reasonable. Trying not to get too caught up in the fantasy of what it would be like to have a real long-lasting family with Rand, instead of the temporary situation they had both agreed upon at the outset of their marriage, Ginger bit her lip. “That was the one thing I always lamented, not having a brother or a sister.”

  He rubbed his thumb across the curve of her lower lip. “I always wanted a sister, but after five boys, mom and dad said they were done.”

  She grinned wryly. “I imagine their hands were pretty full.” With five sons, all as handsome and smart and full of life as Rand.

  He shook his head, remembering what appeared to have been a fun-filled childhood. “You have no idea.” He cleared his throat and regarded her with choirboy innocence. “Anyway, if you decide you want to do this again, I want to go on record here as saying I’m all in.”

  Ginger shifted, feeling the resurgence of his desire—and hers. “All in?” she teased.

  His laugh was low and seductive. “Most definitely all in.”

  Aware what would happen if they continued to be that close, Ginger slid off his lap and carried their dishes to the kitchen. “Don’t you think that would be a problem?” she said over her shoulder. “I mean, if we were to do that, we wouldn’t be married by then. According to our agreement, we’d be divorced.”

  He stepped in to help with the dishes. “We could always get married again. Or stay married and put it in our infamous contract.”

  Ginger nudged him with her shoulder. “Hey, that contract is going to save us a lot of grief over the years.”

  His hands encircled her hips, and he turned her to face him. “If we ever finish it.”

  Ginger shivered in the night air coming through the open windows. “We’ll finish it,” she promised.

  He combed his fingers through her hair. “You really think so?”

  “I know so,” she returned softly. Because she really wanted this temporary marriage of theirs to work. And even though she knew they were getting ahead of themselves, turning the practical arrangement into an increasingly romantic one, she still wanted them to succeed. Not just as parents, but on every level.

  * * *

  GINGER DIDN’T KNOW whether it was the loneliness of the cottage after Rand had gone off to work, or the thought of waiting another day before finding out which company had won the lucrative bid...or just the fact she was pregnant. All she knew was that she missed her mom and needed to see her. And there was, Ginger knew, only one cure for that.

  So just before lunch, she went over to the Red Sage business office. Her mom was in the party planning suite, looking as pretty and personable as ever. She paused in the doorway, aware her mother still had every reason to be irked with her. “Got a minute?”

  “Always.” Cordelia put aside the stack of invitations she had been working on. She perused Ginger with her usual mixture of affection and worry, then finally said, “You look good.”

  Ginger felt good.

  Accepting her mom’s wordless invitation, she sauntered in to take a seat on the other side of her mother’s desk. Ginger smiled, suddenly wishing she could break down and tell her mom everything that had been going on. She wanted to tell her how hormonal and nauseated and overjoyed and overwhelmed she had felt the past three months. But she couldn’t. Not when she and Rand had decided they would tell their families about the baby, all at once.

  Aware her mother was still perusing her closely, Ginger shrugged. “I guess I’ve got that honeymoon glow.”

  “That must be it,” Cordelia mused in return.

  “Well, that and some extra sleep the past day or so,” Ginger couldn’t resist adding.

  Another sharp-eyed maternal glance. “Over your stomach upset?” she asked gently.

  Ginger nodded, comforted to know her mother still cared. “Which brings me to my next point. I wanted to thank you for giving Rand your famous chicken noodle soup recipe.”

  Cordelia’s eyes lit up. “How did it turn out?”

  “Good.” She smiled back, then felt obliged to admit, “Well, not as good as yours, but it was still very comforting.”

  Cordelia interjected, “It’s the thought that counts.”

  “Yes, it is.” Ginger sighed, knowing that Rand wasn’t the only one who deserved better from her. Still looking her mom in the eye, she pushed on, “I want to apologize. I haven’t been very cordial to you, as of late.”

  Cordelia lifted a delicate hand. “You had reason to be annoyed with me,” she said. “I shouldn’t have just quit my job and taken one here without speaking with you first.”

  Ginger rose and moved closer. She leaned against the desk, needing to be near. “That’s the thing, Mom. I was wrong about that, too. You don’t need to ask me for permission to do what you want to do, any more than I need to ask you. We’re both grown women. We can make our own decisions.”

  Cordelia stood a
nd embraced Ginger in a warm, heartfelt hug. “I just want you to be happy.”

  Relieved to no longer be quarreling, Ginger hugged her mom back. “I am, Mom.” For the first time, in a really long time. “I really am.”

  Cordelia squeezed her hand. “I know, honey. I see that in you and Rand. And that makes me feel like I can go on with my own life in a way I really haven’t been since your dad died.”

  Ginger blinked. “Are you trying to tell me you’re dating again?”

  “I’m trying to tell you I’m going to start.” She smiled serenely. “Seeing you with Rand has reminded me what it’s like to be in love with someone, really in love, and what it means to make that leap of faith, and share your life with that person.”

  Was that how they looked to others? Ginger wondered, astonished.

  Cordelia told her, “I want to be married again and have a fuller, more satisfying life. And seeing you with your new husband is what’s convinced me to do so.”

  * * *

  “SHE THINKS WE’RE in love,” Ginger told Rand over dinner that same night.

  He studied her, as if not getting the guilt they should both feel.

  “We both know that love never entered into our decision to marry,” Ginger pointed out.

  Another inscrutable look. Another long, thoughtful pause. “That’s true.” He frowned. “But—”

  Ginger’s cell phone rang. It was the notification she had been waiting on. She swallowed and picked it up, her hand trembling with apprehension. “Ginger Rollins.” She listened, her spirits sinking like a stone. “Yes. I understand.” She ignored Rand’s concerned look, then managed to say, “Thank you. I appreciate that.” She closed her phone, not the least bit consoled to discover her bid had come in fourth overall. “I didn’t land the job. Your mother’s company did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too,” Ginger admitted. Had she not been married and expecting a baby, she probably would have been devastated. “But if it wasn’t me,” she said, determined to be a good sport despite the setback, “I’m glad it was her.”

  A knock sounded on the door. Josie McCabe was on the other side of the screen. Squaring her shoulders, Ginger smiled at her mother-in-law and motioned her in. “Congratulations.”

  Rand glared at his mom in exasperation.

  “Couldn’t you have given Ginger a little time to lick her wounds?” he demanded.

  Josie came forward briskly, businesslike as ever. “No, I couldn’t. I need to ask Ginger what I’ve been wanting to ask her for weeks. I want you to come to work for my company. And I want you to work with me on the Boerne project. And, Rand, I want you to come to work for me, too.”

  Rand gave his mother a wary look. There was an undercurrent between them that Ginger could not decipher, but clearly something was going on between them.

  “Why?” Rand asked tersely.

  Josie gave Rand an enigmatic look back. One that confirmed there was something else going on, some other reason besides Ginger’s and Rand’s business acumen.

  Josie lifted a hand, index finger up. “Because Wyatt Drilling has always been a family company, handed down to me from my dad.” Her finger count went to two. “You are the only one of my children who is remotely interested in the oil business on any level.” She raised a third finger. “I think having an environmentalist on board to advise us on each and every project is a good idea. And four—” she made the appropriate gesture “—I think the three of us working together to run this company will be a very good thing.”

  Josie’s smile encompassed both Ginger and Rand. “I don’t expect an answer right away. I know you have to think about it, but when you are ready to sit down and hammer out the details, let me know, and we’ll do it.”

  “I don’t appreciate the timing, Mom,” Rand told her rather brusquely.

  Josie gave Rand another telltale look that seemed to speak volumes. “Just think about it,” she said as she headed out the door.

  When they were alone again, Ginger asked, “Did you have any idea that was coming?”

  Rand helped her clear the table. “None.”

  Aware she hadn’t had this nagging sense of being deliberately excluded in a familial tiff since she’d been married to Conrad, Ginger put a pot of decaf coffee on to brew. “Well, it doesn’t make sense to me,” she ruminated, still wondering what Rand—and Josie—weren’t telling her.

  “Why would your mom be in such a rush to have us both working with her?”

  Rand shrugged and averted his gaze. “You’re a tough, talented competitor. She probably doesn’t want anyone else to hire you.”

  There was still something missing. Ginger continued pacing. “I mean, it would make sense why she’d want to bring me into the family company as soon as possible if she knew about the baby. But there’s no way she could know about that. Unless...” Ginger studied the peculiar expression on Rand’s face. “Did you tell her?”

  A long, reluctant pause followed. “I didn’t have to,” he conceded finally. “She and your mother had already figured it out.”

  The news was like a bucket of ice water poured over her head. “When?”

  He barely looked at her. “From the moment they saw us on our wedding day. They saw how you were glowing. Noticed how fast and determinedly we were getting hitched—despite the fact we had both vowed after our divorces that we would never say ‘I Do’ to anyone again.” He spread his hands wide, as if it were no big deal. “And they figured it out.”

  “And told you.”

  He gave her a longer, narrow look. “No. I walked in on them arguing about whether or not to throw us a surprise baby shower a week or so ago.”

  Lovely. “And didn’t see fit to tell me? Any of you?”

  “Your mother wanted to confront you.” His eyes remained steady on hers. “I forbade it.”

  “Why?”

  Frustration turned the corners of his lips. With the tone of a man who was never expected to explain himself, he returned, “Because you were already fighting morning sickness and under so much stress at work. I didn’t want you to end up in the hospital.”

  Ginger huffed. “Which I did anyway.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Ginger stared at him, wondering how everything could turn so awful, so fast. Hands knotted at her sides, she moved closer. “So all this time, the three of you were—what?—humoring me.”

  He glared down at her, said mildly, “Protecting you. And yes, we were.”

  Tears misted her eyes. “At your insistence,” she clarified.

  His jaw set. “It’s my job, as your husband.”

  She spun away from him, overcome with a horrible sense of déjà vu. “It’s your job to tell me the truth!” she cried.

  “And I am.”

  “Now!”

  Another silence fell, even more fraught with tension than the last. There was suddenly so much wrong with their situation, Ginger didn’t know where to start. Her gaze jerked back up to his eyes.

  She supposed the best place to start was where the trouble began. “I can’t accept your mother’s job offer.”

  Acting as if this were all hormones again, instead of a fundamental breakdown in their relationship, he stared at her in weary resignation. “Why not?”

  Ginger went back to what had upset her at the end of her conversation with her own mother that day. The willful deception that had paved the way for the entire past month. “Because,” she sighed, irritated she had to explain this to him, too, “your mother just asked because she thinks our marriage is a real one.”

  His expression grew stonier.

  “I mean, she does, doesn’t she?” Ginger persisted. “You didn’t tell our mothers that part without me, did you?”

  “No, of course not.”

 
“So they think we’ve made a real, lifetime commitment to each other?”

  “I assume so, yes.”

  “Then we have to set the record straight,” she reiterated, going back to what she’d been trying to tell him over dinner. “And explain to them that our marriage is nothing but a temporary arrangement for business reasons.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “What if I want it to be more than that?”

  Tension knotted her gut. In an effort to gain control, she returned to her usual businesslike attitude. “You know our agreement,” she told him.

  And she knew her promise to herself, to never again be in a relationship where she was humored and betrayed, the way she’d been in her first marriage.

  Rand stood his ground. “I know our initial agreement.”

  Meaning what? The fact they’d become closer gave him license to do whatever he pleased as far as she was concerned? “Our marriage is not a forever kind of thing,” she reminded him stubbornly, refusing to delude herself into believing otherwise.

  His face took on a brooding expression. “You’re saying you still want a divorce as soon as we have the baby?”

  Did she? In a perfect world, no. But he had more than proved this wasn’t utopia. Not even close. She had to be practical. If she stayed, he would break her heart. And maybe their baby’s heart, too. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Ginger ran a weary hand through her hair. “I’m saying I’m tired of the pretense. I don’t want to walk around every day feeling like a liar. Because that’s not who I am. And it’s not who you are, either, Rand.” That much she knew.

  He exhaled roughly, looking as ticked off as she felt. “You’re right about that.”

  Their anguished glances meshed and held. “Then you understand we have to tell our parents the truth about why we really got married, that we were never as wildly and passionately in love as we pretended.”