Josie gave them an assessing glance that spoke volumes about the doubts she was privately having. “So we see,” she said dryly.
Rand held the door open and ushered both women inside.
Cordelia admired the stand mixer, toaster and espresso maker they had set out on the counter. A nice set of cookware was sitting on top of the stove, ready to be put away. More boxes were opened. Meanwhile, Ginger’s real work was nowhere in sight.
“You have been busy!” Cordelia beamed her approval.
Ginger nodded. “I realized you’re right, Mom. I do need to pay more attention to making Rand happy.”
Rand laced his hand around Ginger’s waist. “And I need to make sure my beautiful bride has everything she wants and needs.” He squeezed her affectionately, and kissed the top of her head. “Otherwise,” he mused, “what’s the point of being married?”
To their delight, Cordelia bought their ruse, hook, line and sinker—maybe because she was seeing what she wanted to see.
Rand’s mother, though, was not such an easy sell.
* * *
“YOU WANT TO tell me what’s really going on?” Josie asked when she caught up with Rand in Summit later that day.
Rand paused, just outside city hall. “I’m happier than I’ve ever been?” The moment he spoke the words, he knew they were true.
“That, I can see. But I still think you and Ginger aren’t telling us everything.”
Rand shrugged. Waited.
Josie continued. “You’re sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”
He did. And he didn’t. Finding out he was having a child—and with Ginger, to boot—was the best news he ever could have gotten. Part of him wanted to tell the world; the rest knew just how fragile his relationship with his new wife was. He didn’t want to do or to say anything to put their growing closeness in jeopardy. Rand gestured amiably. “Nothing I can think of.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Figuring now was the time to be frank about other matters, however, Rand continued. “Look, Mom, I know how much you love all your sons.”
“I really do.”
“I also know you’ve managed to let go of my brothers.”
“Just not you?”
He smiled indulgently. “You worry when we’re not happy.”
“You got that right.”
“But it’s really not necessary. I’m a grown man. I can solve my own problems.”
The tears his mom hadn’t shed at his wedding to Ginger suddenly misted Josie’s eyes. She squeezed his hand, said thickly, “Just so you know if you ever need advice or comfort you can still come to me.”
A lump suddenly in his throat, too, Rand hugged her warmly. “Thanks, Mom. But you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
And for the rest of the two weeks that followed, all went as smoothly as he had promised. Ginger worked nonstop on her proposal, Maria Gonzales by her side much of the time.
He met with many of the landowners in the area, who were interested in exploring their options, but—like Dot and Clancy Boerne—wanted to hire him to ensure their property was protected from an environmental standpoint. And it was only three days before the bids were due to be turned in, that conflict arose.
* * *
GINGER WAS JUST putting the finishing touches on the computer model of the drilling plan she had engineered for the Boernes when a knock sounded at her cottage door. She looked up from her computer and frowned at the person standing on the other side of the screen door. This, she thought, was what she got for leaving the main door open to let in the warm spring breeze.
“Got a minute?” Conrad asked.
Ginger knew that coolly calculating look. She turned away from her ex-husband, wondering yet again how she ever could have thought herself in love with him. “No.”
“Give me five minutes of your time and I’ll stop pestering you.”
Ginger rose to unlock the door. But only because she knew Conrad would persist until he said what he had come to say. She ushered him inside, but left the main door open. Then stood contentiously between him and the oil-recovery plan she and Maria were going to submit.
Conrad removed his hat, slapped it against his thigh, and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “You’re still ticked off at me, aren’t you?”
Once again, he was dressed in a sport coat, designer jeans and tie. And of course shiny rattlesnake-skin boots that ran into the thousands of dollars. “Actually, I’m not.” Truth was, she didn’t really care what Conrad did, as long as she didn’t have to see or hear from him. Not that this had been much of an issue thus far, given how acrimoniously the two of them had parted.
Looking slightly uncomfortable standing there, hat in hand, her ex-husband regarded her somberly. “The company made a mistake not taking you seriously.”
Of course they had.
“Frankly, we should have done whatever was necessary back then to retain you,” he continued.
Now, it was all beginning to make sense....
To succeed in the oil business, a person had to be good at mapping geologic strata and identifying mineral deposits, acquiring the land, and/or designing, supervising and completing major drilling projects. The best CEOs were talented in all three areas.
Conrad was a good land man. He had a knack for being able to talk to people and sign them up. However he struggled mightily in the other two areas. A fact his multitalented father had worried about, since Conrad would never be able to take his place at the helm unless the board of directors backed Conrad. And the board wouldn’t do that unless Conrad had proved himself on a big project, which he had yet to do.
Ginger regarded her ex sagely. “Would you still be saying this if one of your top competitors hadn’t struck oil in Ochiltree County, using a very similar strategy to the one I proposed?”
Conrad flashed his most persuasive smile. “The point is, Ginger, you had the right approach all along. My dad and I, and the rest of the VPs, were just too thickheaded and set in our ways to realize it.”
“Okay.” Ginger shrugged. She had some idea what this mea culpa was costing her egocentric ex. “Apology accepted.”
Conrad eased closer and continued his pitch. “Profitt Oil wants you back, as VP of domestic exploration.”
“That’s a pretty big promotion.”
He nodded, serious. “And this time, my father and I will personally see to it that we follow your drilling plans, starting with the bid for the Boerne ranch.”
She knew they would, if Conrad could somehow take credit for it. But it no longer mattered. It hadn’t for a long time.
She turned him down with a look, then ushered him toward the door. “Thanks for stopping by.”
He dug in his heels. “Come on, Ginger. For once in your life, be reasonable! You know you haven’t got a chance in hell of winning the bidding frenzy over the Boerne deal. Or any other worthwhile oil lease in this neck of the woods, for that matter!” His beseeching smile turned ugly. “Your drilling partner, Maria Gonzales, may have a stellar reputation, but you’re too new at this, your resources as a fledgling independent too slim. The midsize companies and well-established wildcatters are going to get all the work.”
Maybe so, but not for lack of trying on her part, Ginger thought stubbornly.
Glad that Maria—who was beginning to feel a little nervous about their chances of winning the job, too—had missed Conrad’s confidence-busting speech, she said, “And here I thought you just showed up to flatter me.” She opened the door, and pushed Conrad through it, right into Rand’s imposing form.
Her current husband looked about as pleased as her former husband.
Rand scowled at Conrad. “I believe the lady asked you to leave.”
Conrad took another few steps away from Ginger, then turned
. “You don’t have to run through the entire trust fund your dad left you to prove yourself,” he told her. “You have other options, Ginger. At least you would if you weren’t too foolish to consider them.”
“That’s not why I’m doing this!” Ginger retorted. She pivoted away from both men and stormed back inside.
In her wake, low voices rumbled unpleasantly on the stoop. One set of heavy male footsteps headed away from the screen door, the other walked in. Rand took a moment to look her over, head to toe.
Resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms, and let him hold her for as long as he wanted this time, Ginger stayed where she was.
Although she had gotten over her ex’s betrayal and her divorce a long time ago, she still felt frustrated, as well as a little embarrassed, by all the time she had wasted when she was with Conrad.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. Her days of trying to win a man’s respect were over. He either gave it to her or he didn’t.
Squinting, Rand stepped a little closer to her. “How long was Profitt here?”
Ginger turned and hazarded a glance at her computer. “Any time at all is too long.”
Silence fell as Rand waited for a more complete answer.
Her body warming as much as if he had actually touched her, Ginger finally replied, “Five minutes, maybe less.” She pivoted toward Rand and studied him in return, wondering if that was a hint of jealousy—or wariness—in his blue eyes.
Knowing she probably would have felt the same if she’d caught him in a tête-à-tête with his ex, she asked, “How much did you hear?”
“Enough to know Conrad and his colleagues dismissed your drilling strategies out of hand when the two of you were working together.”
She winced. “While pretending to take me seriously.” That humiliation hurt the most.
“What made you realize he wasn’t sincere?” The expression on his handsome face gentling, Rand stepped behind her and massaged the tense muscles between shoulder and spine.
The expert ministrations of his fingers was heavenly. Ginger shut her eyes and leaned into his soothing touch. She hadn’t realized until that second how tense she was.
She released a contented sigh, then forced herself to continue relating the heartbreaking details of her past.
“I was checking my work mail on our home computer one day, and stumbled on an email between my ex and his father. His dad wanted to know when Conrad was going to convince me to quit working and get serious about producing some heirs to the family dynasty. Conrad had apparently promised his father it would be soon, but it wasn’t soon enough for Conrad Senior’s agenda. He urged his son in no uncertain terms to just get on with it, and bribe me with whatever he had to, to make it happen.
“Conrad wrote back and said he and I didn’t work that way. And that he had the utmost confidence that I would come around eventually, but not until I got the oil business out of my system. Hence, Conrad wanted to keep humoring me a little while longer. Until I got fed up with constantly falling flat on my face and decided to quit and make babies.”
Rand made a dissenting sound as he worked his way down to her waist, relaxing every taut sinew in his path. Reveling in his tender touch, Ginger shifted to allow him greater access. A little more of this wouldn’t hurt, she told herself. After all, it wasn’t as if they were making love. Besides, if she was this tense, wouldn’t that mean their baby was tense, also?
“I gather you confronted your husband?” Rand asked eventually, kneading her lower back.
So relaxed now her knees were getting a little wobbly, Ginger nodded. “Conrad admitted he had never wanted me to work after we were married. He felt one career was enough for any couple.”
Rand took her hand and guided her over to the love seat. His tone a husky murmur, he ventured, “You disagreed.”
Ginger sank into the thick comfortable cushions. She watched as Rand took a seat beside her. Idly, she took his hand in hers and gave it a brief appreciative squeeze. “I saw what not having something of her own, to give her life purpose, did to my mother, over time. How much happier she was when she started working again and had a life outside of mine. I didn’t want to travel the path she did.” Ginger paused and bit her lip. “And I still don’t.”
“So what do you want?” he asked gently.
She turned her gaze to his. “I want it all. Satisfying career, family.” Love. “And if I can’t have that,” as she fully expected she probably would not, in the end, “then I want to know I will always be able to support myself and my baby. That I don’t need anyone else to do so.” Or, she added silently, anyone else to make me feel happy and complete. I want to do that on my own.
Rand continued to study her thoughtfully. He kept her hand in his when she would have let his go. “First of all, it’s our baby,” he corrected her finally, his expression kind. “And you don’t ever have to worry about having money to raise our child safely and comfortably because I will more than see to that.”
Guilt flared in Ginger. Belatedly she realized how selfish she had just sounded.
Rand paused, his gaze roving her flushed cheeks. “Second, you’d have more of a nest egg if you held on to your inheritance from your dad and went to work for someone else.”
Ginger knew that, too. She extricated her hand from his and stood. “But I wouldn’t be independent, Rand. And for me—” she paused, looking intently into his eyes “—independence is key.”
* * *
“IT’S GOING TO rain tonight.”
Ginger looked up from the geological maps she had spread out over the dining table to see her husband framed in the doorway. Looking relaxed and still full of energy, he had one broad shoulder braced against the frame.
She’d spent so much time weighing the data and trying to pull together a coherent package that would not only address all potential problems, but recommend the best way to get the recovery factor above forty percent, that she was feeling a little woozy. And worn out.
“Why are you telling me?” Ginger asked, confused.
It wasn’t as if she was outside or had been for days. Rand was the only one who had been going out to meet with clients. Her work was right here.
He inclined his head toward the screened-in back porch. The sun had set hours ago. Through the open slider between bedroom and porch she could hear the soothing sounds of cicadas and nightingales. The faint scent of wildflowers and the barbecue someone had cooked for dinner lingered in the cool mountain air. “I thought you might want to do something about the rest of the boxes your mother brought us.”
She blinked. Sometimes he had the strangest timing. “You’re asking me to unpack the rest of our wedding gifts? Now?” When she was just two and a half more days away from having to turn in the biggest proposal of her life?
He shook his head, but gallant as ever, stayed far enough away not to be able to get even a glimpse of the confidential data she was working on. “I’m asking if I can move your belongings.”
Hadn’t they already gone over this at the time they were delivered? “You can’t bring them into the living area. Or I won’t have room to work. And if we put them in the bedroom—”
He guessed where she was going with this. “We won’t have anywhere to sleep.”
“Right.”
“But if we leave them on the back porch and the storms are even half as fierce as what the weather bureau is predicting, they will get soaked through. That is why I talked to Claire. She said there’s room in one of the storage areas behind the party barn, and offered to let us temporarily stash the stuff there for a nominal fee.”
Ginger couldn’t say she would mind. She had missed being able to sit on the swing on their back porch. Plus, it would be good to take a little break from her work.
She set
down her pen and rose. “I’ll help you carry them over there.”
He put out an arm to block her way. “No. You won’t.”
Now he was telling her what to do? Trying not to think how long it had been since they had made love, or even really kissed, she propped her hands on her hips. “They’re our boxes.”
“And you’re—” At her raised brow, he stopped to censure himself appropriately. “In no condition to be lugging heavy stuff around.”
Ginger scoffed. Telling herself that she was glad Rand accepted her continued work and fatigue-related rebuffs, and had not gone all-out to put the moves on her, she joined him on the back porch. Then ambled close enough to whisper, “I’m pregnant, not disabled.”
And he, she was pretty sure, was just biding his time. Waiting, the way he always did, until the tension built to the point she couldn’t—wouldn’t—say no.
Oblivious to the amorous nature of her thoughts, he narrowed his gaze. “You can hold the doors for me. That’s it.”
Their gazes clashed as strongly as their wills.
“I mean it, Ginger,” he persisted in a tone that brooked no dissent.
She thought about arguing. Then wearily gave it up. She could tell this was one battle she wouldn’t win.
Aware it felt oddly nice to be fussed over and protected this way—by him—she shrugged as if it did not matter to her either way. “Suit yourself.”
He grinned, victorious.
Which in turn made her regret giving in so easily.
But a concession was a concession, so the next fifteen minutes were spent with Rand lugging the collection of wedding gifts outside, while Ginger facilitated his efforts and held the doors open for him. When Rand had fit all the boxes into the bed of his truck, they both climbed into the cab. Rand stretched his arm along the top of her seat as he backed out of the space. “Michelle’s office telephoned me today.”
Ginger nodded, admitting, “I got a call, too.” She just hadn’t had the time or inclination to return it.
“They want us to schedule the next appointment so they can get working on the postnup and marriage contract for us.” He drove slowly past the Red Sage party barn where a fiftieth wedding anniversary gala was under way.
THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY Page 9
