Ginger released a beleaguered breath. “So where are we going to live?”
“Whoa!” Rand chuckled as he fit his key in the ignition. “You’re actually agreeing to share space with me?”
Ginger flushed self-consciously. “Everyone will expect it.”
“So that’s the only reason you want to reside under the same roof?”
“Truthfully? Yes, it is.”
Another silence fell, this one taut with a different kind of tension.
Rand turned the air-conditioning on high. “The closest available rental home is fifty miles away.”
Somehow she wasn’t surprised he had checked into that. When it came to getting her under his roof—and back into his bed—he was always thinking ahead. “Not good when we’re talking mountain terrain.” The commute to Summit and back could be an hour or more each way, every day.
Rand draped his arm across the back of the seat. “I do still have my cottage at the Red Sage guest ranch. I’ve been renting it by the week for the past four months.”
Ginger had to admit it would be roomier—and less intimate—than the hotel room where she’d been staying. “Okay.”
In less than an hour they’d packed her stuff and checked her out of the Summit Inn. She followed him in her truck out to the Red Sage.
Twenty-five minutes outside of Summit, the guest ranch encompassed twenty-nine-thousand acres of juniper and ponderosa-pine forest, wildflower-strewed meadows, red-rock canyon and stately mountains. The sprawling century-old ranch house was located at the end of a blacktop road half a mile from the rural highway. The three-dozen cottages surrounded a large party barn, where weddings and receptions were often held. Campsites were located near the end of the private hiking and biking trails.
Rand parked in front of Cottage 12. The one-story building had clapboard siding, red shutters and door, and a sloping slate-gray roof. Ginger situated her truck beside his.
Both got out. “There’s a complimentary breakfast buffet every morning in the main house. Otherwise we’re on our own for meals. There’s also a coin laundry and an ice and vending machine area.”
He opened the door to the cottage and led the way inside. The front appeared to be one large room sporting a small galley kitchen and combination dining room–living area with a fireplace. Behind it was a bathroom and one bedroom just large enough to house a queen-size bed, tall bureau and a nightstand. Behind that was a small porch with a slow-moving fan overhead. Screened for privacy with latticework and attractive landscaping that featured native shrubs and flowering plants, there was an old-fashioned porch swing meant for two, a comfy-looking chaise longue and two small side tables.
All together, the cottage encompassed about seven hundred square feet, the size of a normal one-bedroom apartment.
Ginger looked at the bed. There was no way she and her six-foot-plus husband could sleep in it without touching. And touching led to...
She really had to stop fixating on that.
“What do you think about us getting two cottages, side by side?” she asked casually as she walked back into the safety of the main living area.
Rand followed her. Evidently not at all surprised by her question, he shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’d be a good way to convince people we’re not really married, if that’s what you’re aiming to do.”
Ginger sighed.
There were two wing chairs and a love seat in the living room; no sofa large enough to sleep on. She raked a hand through her hair, trying not to think how cozy and romantic this all would be under other circumstances. Now it just felt much too small and close. “I suppose a roll-away bed is out of the question, then?”
He nodded; a solid wall of masculine determination. “Completely.”
The sensuality in his gaze had her heartbeat picking up, big time.
“It’s not as if we haven’t shared a mattress before,” Rand pointed out, hovering closer to her.
Ginger suddenly felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. “I know.”
His gaze narrowed. “But...?”
Ginger swallowed, and pushed the wealth of erotic memories away. Just because they had recklessly made love the night before did not mean they would be doing so again. She wet her lips and said bluntly, “I was hoping to keep this on business terms.”
He remained stoic. Not protesting. Not agreeing. Not...anything.
Wishing she knew more about what their immediate future held, she finally relented. “But...I guess this will do.” It would have to.
Slowly the tension eased from his tall, ruggedly handsome frame. He offered a reassuring smile, his victorious attitude evident. “Let’s get the rest of your stuff in. Then I’ll go over to the front office and let Claire McPherson, the manager, know we’re newlyweds and you’ll be staying here with me. And I’ll get you a key.”
Settling in was easy, Ginger thought. Making this temporary union of theirs a success, while keeping her pregnancy hidden, would not be as simple.
Chapter Five
Rand had known sharing quarters with Ginger would be challenging. However, he hadn’t expected her to be so contrary about every little thing.
“You don’t have to leave all your things in the suitcases,” he told her. “You can unpack.”
Ginger struggled to fit her bags into her half of the closet. It wasn’t an easy fit and took another hard shove to shut the door.
He lounged against the lone bureau, arms crossed in front of him.
Scowling, Ginger grabbed her handbag and perched on the edge of the bed. A curtain of copper hair fell across one shoulder as she pulled out a notepad and pen.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Ginger scribbled. “Adding another requirement for our marriage contract.” She paused to look up at him. “No unsolicited advice.”
He let out a conciliatory breath. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to boss you around. I just wanted you to feel welcome here, like this was your place now, too.” Given the fact that a week-by-week rental was the closest either of them got to an actual home these days, she had to concede.
Abruptly her shoulders lost their rigid tilt. Her expression softened, too. “So we’re in agreement about this?”
“Yes.” He gave her a level look and did his best to reassure her. “There will definitely not be any bossing each other around.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “Good. Because I don’t want to waste time arguing with you.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, either,” he said quietly. Their gazes remained locked. Intimacy followed. As was always the case, though, before they could take their relationship one step further, something inevitably got in the way. His cell phone rang and it was followed shortly thereafter by the ring on hers.
Ginger stepped outside to answer the call.
Rand stayed in the cottage and listened to his caller. “That’s great news!” he exclaimed. “Yes. I’ll be there.” He severed the connection.
Seconds later Ginger stepped inside. “The county’s moratorium on horizontal drilling has just been lifted,” she announced joyfully. She came closer in a drift of floral and citrus perfume. “Dot and Clancy Boerne are having a meeting at their ranch this evening.”
Uh-oh, Rand thought. “I know.”
Ginger paused. “You were invited?”
He nodded, aware they had hit the first professional hurdle in their marriage. “The Boernes have asked me to analyze the environmental impact of all the proposals from wildcat drilling operations.”
Ginger’s jaw took on the stubborn tilt he knew so well. “Well, you can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m bidding on that work!” she snapped.
More than that, Rand knew, she was counting on winning the contr
act to launch her career as an independent oil woman.
Ginger continued hotly, “You’re going to have to recuse yourself.”
Rand had to draw the line somewhere. He figured it may as well be here. Especially since she was the one who was actually carrying their child, and hence would eventually be out of commission, at least for a short time. “How about you recuse yourself?”
More temper flared. “I’m not letting this opportunity go, Rand.”
He shrugged, knowing she would receive income from this project only if she won it, whereas his fees were guaranteed. “I gave the Boernes my word I would thoroughly review every proposal to let them know the risks. I will be operating with a panel of three others. I’ve been working with them and many others in the county for months now, to ensure land and interests are protected. I’m not backing out.”
Ginger strode farther away. “Well, neither am I.”
He studied her, clearly disappointed. He had hoped she would be more reasonable. Clearly this wasn’t the case. “Then I suggest,” he said mildly, “that you accept this is just the way it’s going to be.”
* * *
HAD THE COMPLICATIONS ended there, it would have been a tough but not ultimately insurmountable problem, Ginger thought.
Unfortunately when they got to the meeting at the Boerne ranch, and saw who else was in attendance, she realized her woes were just beginning.
Not only did she have her new husband looking over her shoulder in a professional sense, she apparently had her new mother-in-law interested in acquiring the work, too. Because Josie Corbett-Wyatt McCabe—the current head of Wyatt Drilling—sauntered onto Dot and Clancy Boerne’s lawn just as the meeting was about to begin and took a seat on the opposite side of the large outdoor gathering.
Feeling like a player in a minor league team, who had just had a major league player show up and push her out of her long-coveted spot, Ginger turned to Rand in shock. “Did you know your mom was coming tonight?”
“No.” He stared at his mother, clearly ticked off.
Josie stared back at her son, giving no quarter, either.
As far as Rand’s mother was concerned, Ginger noted, this was business, pure and simple. Family connections did not enter into it.
Ginger couldn’t help but admire that about Josie. She felt that way, too. It was only Rand who seemed to think they should make exceptions.
Before she had a chance to think about the best way to handle what was bound to be an uncomfortable situation, yet another man joined the hundred-plus oil people on the lawn.
As their eyes locked, it was all Ginger could do not to groan out loud. Not him, too.
Rand took in the latest arrival’s air of cool detachment. Unlike most of the other oil folk there that evening, clad in jeans, boots and work shirts, the VP from the midsize oil company wore designer jeans, a trendy sport coat and a tie.
Tensing, Rand leaned down to murmur in her ear, “Do you two know each other?”
“Kind of.”
Rand waited.
“He’s my ex-husband. Conrad Profitt.”
Rand blinked in a way that let her know he could hardly believe his ears. Which wasn’t surprising, she supposed. Since they had only referred to their exes by their first names, he had no way of putting two and two together until now.
“Your first husband was the heir apparent of Profitt Oil?” he asked in stunned amazement.
“Yep.”
Another pause. “Did you know he was going to be here tonight?”
“Nope.” Ginger took in Conrad’s pompous, self-congratulatory air. Could this situation get any more complicated?
Meanwhile their hosts called the meeting to order. The brawny, white-haired rancher stepped to the makeshift-podium, while his petite and pretty wife passed out folders to all the guests. Clearly ready to get on with it, Clancy Boerne began. “We asked you all here tonight because we want to give you a chance to recover the oil on our property. The deadline for submitting drilling plans, cost estimates and proposed oil-lease terms is three weeks from this evening.”
Next, Clancy introduced the three experts on seismic mapping, directional drilling and recovery performance that he and his wife had hired to help them sift through the proposals.
Finally he introduced the fourth and last member of their advisory panel—the lone environmentalist in the group. Clancy smiled. “You all know Rand McCabe. He’s been working closely with the county commissioners and many of the ranchers in the area to help us protect our properties. Rand will vet the proposals, from an environmental standpoint, and report back to us on any insufficiencies and dangers.
“My wife, our attorney and I will go over the results of both that and the independent financial and engineering analysis. The top ten bidders will then be asked to further explain and/or defend their proposals in a question-and-answer session at our attorney’s office. The panel of three experts will assist us in the questioning, and another comprehensive analysis will be completed. After that point, we’ll decide which outfit to use and notify everyone by telephone a few days later.”
Conrad Profitt raised his hand and asked sagely, “Does anyone else see a problem with Rand McCabe vetting his own mother’s bid?”
Ginger turned to look at her ex-husband, not surprised Conrad was already crying foul. Whenever her ex felt he couldn’t win on his own, which was most of the time, he used whatever device he could to level the playing field. In this case the hint of familial impropriety.
At the podium, Boerne scoffed at the concern. “The only one who should have a problem with Rand being involved is Josie Corbett-Wyatt McCabe—since she’s had her son interfere in more of her drilling projects than she can probably count.”
Everyone chuckled, knowing that truer words had never been spoken. The rift in the McCabe clan over that long-standing issue was legend. Turns out, Rand was as cautious as his mother was fearless.
Another independent oilman promptly raised his hand. “What about Rand’s new wife, Ginger Rollins?” he demanded. “You telling me McCabe’s going to be as hard on her as everyone else, them being newlyweds and all?”
Rand’s expression remained impassive, while Ginger grimaced. She hadn’t wanted her new marriage to come up tonight at all, at least not in a business sense.
Meanwhile, Ginger’s ex stared at her in astonishment. Clearly, Profitt hadn’t heard.
Nor had most of the people there.
Figuring any defense should come from her, Ginger stood and addressed the crowd. “I guarantee you that Rand will be as tough on me as he is on everyone else.”
Despite her avowal, skepticism abounded.
Dot Boerne took the floor. “We’re going to have the names on all the bids redacted by our oil-and-gas attorney before we see the proposals. Rand and the other advisors will not have access to that information, either. The winning semifinal bids will be chosen strictly on the merits of ingenuity, environmental safety and cost.”
“What about the final round?” someone asked.
Dot said, “Obviously, we’ll know who we are dealing with then, since we’ll expect all the executives and field experts from the various companies to be at the Q and A sessions.”
Clancy Boerne added that in the end he and Dot would choose the company they were most comfortable with.
More questions followed. Eventually the meeting concluded.
Conrad ambled over to Ginger and Rand. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought her ex’s head of meticulously groomed brown hair might be thinning a tad.
Her ex-husband stuck out his hand to Rand. “It appears congratulations are in order.”
“They are.” Rand amenably shook the oil tycoon’s hand, then stepped back and put a proprietary arm around Ginger’s shoulders, tugging her close to his side.
&nb
sp; Still flummoxed, Conrad turned his full attention back to his ex-wife. “I had no idea you were serious about anyone.”
“Nor should you have since we haven’t spoken in—what? Two years?”
Conrad’s smile broadened. “We should remedy that,” he said.
Ginger had an idea what her ex-husband wanted, and it wasn’t friendship. “I disagree.” She turned to Rand, deriving comfort from his muscular warmth despite herself. She slipped her arm around his waist and looked up at her new husband adoringly. “You ready to go, sweetheart?”
Taking her hint, Rand smiled. “I sure am, honeybunch.” Still holding Ginger protectively close, he pivoted and gave Ginger’s ex a two-fingered salute. “Nice to meet you, Profitt.”
They walked off, arm in arm, only to be stopped again several steps later. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to talk about their newly married state. More questions and congratulations followed. Finally they made their way to the rows of cars and trucks parked along the lane that led to the ranch house.
To Ginger’s chagrin, Josie McCabe was waiting next to her pickup, her manner all business. Ginger sighed. The last thing she wanted to discuss with her new mother-in-law was the cutthroat competition ahead.
Rand paused beside Josie’s canary-yellow truck. He looked as tense and irritable as Ginger felt, although for more complicated familial reasons. “Since when have you been interested in drilling in Summit County?” he asked his mother.
Josie sent her youngest son a look of reproach. “Since they came out with the massive improvements in horizontal drilling technology last fall. I knew there had been problems in the past when that method of oil recovery was tried here. I also knew, with the amount of oil beneath the ground, that it would be only a matter of time before it commenced again, safely this time.” She turned slightly, leveling them both with her sturdy gaze. “I’ve always intended to be in on the ground floor of the boom in Summit County.”
THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY Page 6
