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.”
THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY Page 4
