THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  His fingers itched to touch the silky copper hair drifting over her shoulders. “I eat it every chance I get.”

  “Me, too.” Oblivious to how hot and frustrated he was beginning to feel, Ginger sorted through the dry goods in the cupboards. “Oh, no.”

  Concerned, he rose and headed toward her. “What’s the matter?”

  She swung back to him, hands planted on her slender hips. “We don’t have any corn chips.”

  Normally, Rand noted, the lack of any one culinary ingredient was not cause for concern with the woman he’d married. Most of the time, Ginger seemed practically ambivalent about the food she was consuming. But at this particular moment, she looked incredibly distraught. And that could only mean one thing...

  He peered at her curiously, both amused and delighted. “Is this your second craving?” The chocolate sandwich cookies with the vanilla cream centers had been her first.

  “Don’t be silly.” Flushing, she waved off the allegation and resumed her determined search of the cupboards. “You know I’ve been sailing through this pregnancy.”

  She rummaged around for the travel mug she usually stuck in the very back of the cabinet. Realizing it was time for her to take her prenatal vitamin, Rand held up a staying hand and went to retrieve the bottle hidden in his laptop carrier.

  “I also know you’ve been sipping ginger ale and eating saltine crackers like nobody’s business.”

  He handed her the mug he’d spirited away, and she sent him a grateful look. Probably because his quick thinking that morning had managed to keep her über-organizing mother from finding Ginger’s prescription vitamins, thereby preventing her from discovering why it was the two of them had married so hastily.

  Ginger shrugged. “They do the trick.”

  Cocking his head, he studied her for a long moment. What else had she been holding back from him? “So you have been nauseated.”

  “Just a little bit every now and then. I haven’t actually thrown up.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Aware he wanted her to confide more than that in him, he edged near enough to drink in her womanly scent. “Have you had any other cravings?”

  She filled a glass with milk, stirred in a little chocolate syrup and swallowed a prenatal vitamin. “I never said this was one.”

  He folded his arms. Waited.

  And was rewarded with a blush and an almost smile. She lifted both her hands in grudging self-defense. “Okay, if it will make you happy, yes! I have been wanting Frito pie made with my mom’s chili for weeks now.” She shrugged off his amused laugh and bent to find a saucepan in the cupboard. “But that happens to me anyway when I’ve gone too long without some really fine home cooking. It happens to everyone.”

  She paused to dump the frozen block of homemade chili in the saucepan, and set it on the stove. “That’s why the subliminal messaging in TV food commercials is so successful.” She turned the burner on medium heat, then put on the lid, and pivoted back to him. “Once you see a hamburger with everything, you can’t rest until you actually have one.”

  Leaning close, he ran a thumb over her cheek and needled her playfully, “If you like hamburgers. I don’t imagine the messaging works on you if you don’t.”

  She grinned at his teasing, the way she always did, and tilted her face up to his. “You know what I mean. Furthermore—” she jabbed her thumb at the valley between her soft, luscious breasts “—I’d be perfectly happy eating our chili without anything but cheddar cheese and sour cream and jalapeños.”

  Except she wouldn’t, Rand thought, when she’d had her heart set on Frito pie. And they both knew it. Ginger was the kind of woman who wanted what she wanted when she wanted it. Just like he wanted what he wanted—which, at the moment, was mostly...her.

  Oblivious to the licentious direction of his thoughts, she looked at the clock, realizing, as did he, that the grocery stores in the area were all closed until morning. She scowled. “Do not make me feel silly about this.”

  “Wouldn’t think of it.” Aware this was one problem he could actually solve, he headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” He tempted her with an easy grin, admiring anew the way his shirt gently outlined her breasts. The changes in her body were subtle but incredibly erotic. “Off to save the day, of course.”

  * * *

  RAND WAS BACK fifteen minutes later, grinning as though he had just won the lottery, two single-serving packages of Fritos in hand.

  Ginger tore her glance from the handsome contours of his face, and pretended to be busy at the stove. “Where’d you go?”

  He sauntered closer, with exaggerated chivalry. “My mom’s cottage. She didn’t have any Fritos, unfortunately, nor did any of the other guests in adjacent cottages.”

  Mortified that he’d been reduced to begging for corn chips at ten-thirty at night, Ginger covered her face with her hand. “Tell me you’re kidding me.”

  He shifted even closer, his voice low and sexy. “I kid you not.” She peered at him through spread fingers, aware she had never been this fussed over by any man. “So who did have them?”

  “Heath and Claire.”

  The proprietors of the Red Sage guest ranch.

  He slouched against the counter next to her, legs crossed at the ankle, hands on either side of him. “I figured they’ve got kids in elementary who take lunches to school. And what goes better with sandwiches and fruit than chips? So seeing their lights were still on downstairs, I went over to the main house and explained the situation—”

  Ginger tore her gaze from his rock-solid chest and abs. “You told them that I was—”

  He lifted a hand to her face, gently touching her cheek, and flashed her a crooked smile. “Celebrating the completion of one of your work deadlines. We were all set for Frito pie, only to find out we were fresh out of corn chips. They were happy to give me what they had, although they refused to take cash for it, so we’ll have to replenish their stock tomorrow.”

  Ginger paused, still not sure whether she wanted to kiss or scold him. And still the chili bubbled on, filling the cottage with its fragrant spicy smell.

  Aware she was still tingling from his brief sensual touch, she took a deep breath. “You’re sure they didn’t guess we were expecting?”

  Rand shrugged and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “They didn’t appear to.”

  “Or worse, think we were being ridiculous?”

  He kissed her temple, cheerful as ever. “We are newlyweds.”

  “Newlywed professionals in our early thirties,” Ginger corrected, telling herself not to read anything into the easy affection in his eyes. “Who should be beyond such silliness.”

  Rand paused thoughtfully. “What’s the real problem here?”

  “I just don’t want to appear frivolous when I’m trying so hard to get people to take me seriously.”

  “First of all,” he said, taking down two stoneware bowls from the cabinet, “no one who knows you thinks you are the least bit ditzy, on any level.” He opened up two packets of chips, and poured them into the bottom of each bowl, then ladled a generous amount of beef chili over top. “Everyone knows how serious and hardworking you are in every respect. But you’re still entitled to enjoy yourself.”

  Aware if she were truthful, there was only one way she really wanted to enjoy herself—in his arms, in their bed—Ginger added a healthy sprinkling of cheddar, some fresh chopped tomato, several jalapeño slices and a dollop of sour cream to the fare. “Believe me, I wish I could spend a lot more time having fun than I have lately.”

  But Ginger wasn’t sure even that was a good idea.

  * * *

  THEY CARRIED THEIR dinner out onto the back porch and sat side by side on the porch swing. The evening was bre
ezy and cool, with a full moon and stars shining above. Enjoying the time alone with his wife, Rand slanted her a curious glance. “If you want to have more fun, why don’t you take more time to relax?”

  Ginger carefully gathered all the ingredients on her spoon. She lifted the steamy concoction to her lips, blew lightly across the top. For a moment she savored the incredible mix of flavor and texture. Rand did the same. From the look on his face, he found the dish as deliciously satisfying as she did.

  Finally she allowed, “I can’t afford to goof off when I have so much riding on the drilling rights to this particular oil lease.”

  “Maybe too much,” Rand decreed candidly, reminding her with a frown that as important and potentially lucrative as the Boerne lease was, securing it was just one job.

  There would certainly be other opportunities down the line.

  “Since you’ve only really pursued the one property here, why not start vying for leases in some of the other up-and-coming areas, outside of Marfa or Fort Stockton—where I don’t already have contracts to do the environmental screening—from here on out?” Where there would be no conflict of interest between them? Or her and his mother’s company, for that matter?

  “If you want to work in those areas, I give you my word that I won’t,” Rand assured her. “And in the interest of family harmony, I’ll get my mother’s company to avoid bidding in that area, too.”

  Her expression both reflective and conflicted, Ginger ate a little more, then took a sip of her milk. “I can’t afford to do that.”

  “Why not?”

  She raked her spoon through the center of her chili, mixing the melted cheddar and sour cream. Finally she muttered, “I guess it’s not as if you won’t find out soon enough anyway.” She pushed a jalapeño pepper to the side, took another bite, sighed. “I have enough money in the trust fund I got from my dad to pay Maria and her drilling crew to work under my direction for thirty days, but that’s it.” Her lips flattened. “We either get a viable flow out of the shale deposits the first time out, or I’m done here.”

  “Maria’s company couldn’t pick up the slack?”

  “She’s on as much of a shoestring budget as I am. And she has a weekly payroll to meet. She can only afford to work for jobs and people that pay as they go.”

  “So you’re stuck. This one job, and that’s it.”

  “Yep.”

  Taking a long swallow of beer, he studied her quietly. She looked stressed and worried again, none of which was any better for their baby than it was for her. “And it has to be the Boerne lease?” Where the competition was exceptionally fierce. “No other property in the area will do?”

  She inhaled deeply. “The satellite imagery, soil samples, and even the ‘creekology’ or lay of the creek beds on the Boerne land are all incredibly positive. I’ve walked that ranch. I can’t explain it except to say that I know in my gut that particular strata of rock is going to produce vast amounts of oil. The other properties in this area might or might not.”

  Rand’s mother and grandfather had the same innate talent for scouting out the big energy fields. It was a God-given sixth sense few had, and all wanted. If Ginger had it, too, she was more like his wildcatter family than she realized.

  “The challenge will be to get the oil out safely,” she continued soberly, “with as little disruption and damage as possible to the existing ranch.”

  Rand knew Ginger was talented enough to do that, too. The big question was, who would the Boernes select? And how would Ginger react if all she had done thus far was for naught? Would she renege on what she’d said so far, take her ex up on his offer and go back to work for Profitt Oil?

  Ginger put her empty dish aside. Shivering in the damp evening air, she curled up next to him on the swing. “I’ve spent months courting Dot and Clancy. I’ve thrown all my research and testing budget at this one project. I don’t have enough money to start all over again. If I don’t land this bid with the Boernes, then I’m going to have to call it quits and go back to working for someone else again.”

  Rand put his dishes aside, too. He sat back, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into the curve of his body. He leaned over and pressed a tender kiss on the top of her head. “And you don’t want to do that,” he ventured.

  Ginger continued staring stubbornly at the shield of trees on the other side of the screen. “I want the freedom to pick the jobs that are right for me. And our child. The only way I’ll really be able to do that is if I’m my own boss.”

  Another silence fell.

  Rand inhaled the familiar soap and shampoo scent of her hair and skin. “Then I hope, at the end of the day, the Boernes pick you.”

  Ginger tilted her head to look at him. Wistfulness and something else he couldn’t quite read gleamed in her pretty green eyes. “You mean that,” she acknowledged softly.

  Rand nodded. “I’ve already got plenty of work in Summit County. If you’re awarded this lease, more will follow. That would be good for you, good for our baby, good for us.” He threaded his hand through her hair. “And speaking of that, you know what else would be good for us?”

  Ginger caught her breath. “I have a feeling you’re going to show me.”

  It was all the invitation Rand needed. “You’re right. I am.”

  Chapter Ten

  Rand shifted Ginger over onto his lap, so she was straddling him, and then pivoted himself to the center of the swing. Hardly believing how good she felt against him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her inner thighs cupping the outside of his, he tipped her face up to his and kissed her long and wet and deep. Kissed her until she fisted both hands in his hair and quivered. “Rand.” She whimpered for more as he slid his hands beneath her shirt, ghosted lovingly over her ribs. “What are you doing?”

  He found what he was looking for, the soft, warm swell of breasts, the hard jut of her nipples pressing against the center of his palm. She moaned again at the erotic sensations he dispensed, grinding against him.

  Chuckling affectionately, he went on a little tour, kissing, unbuttoning and unfastening. Until her shirt was off, and then so was her bra. And God help him if she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life.

  He bent his head to kiss the tight, puckered tip. Savored the moment as she caught his head in both her hands and held it there. Taking her nipple into his mouth, he quipped, “I’m helping you have a little fun.”

  Her head was back, her eyes closed, as he worshiped one breast, then the other. She moaned again when he eased a hand beneath the waistband of her pants and found the most feminine part of her. “This isn’t fun,” she gasped, her hips rocking helplessly. “It’s sex.” Eyes still closed, she shivered in delight, still having enough moxie to protest, “Which happens to be what got us into trouble in the first place!”

  Rand recalled all too well the recreational activities they had shared on Valentine’s Day. And the satisfying surrender that had followed... Memories that fueled his fantasies to this day.

  Gripping her hips in the way he knew she really liked, he moved her back and forth across his lap, kissing her passionately until she writhed with pleasure and kissed him back. Finally, when she was soft and warm and eager, he lifted his head long enough to stare into her eyes. “I don’t know about you, but I kind of like the trouble we’re in.”

  She didn’t respond...she didn’t have to. He could see how she felt even if she wouldn’t yet actually say so.

  Shifting her off his lap, and onto the center of the swing, he dropped to his knees. Her green eyes softened all the more and her breath caught as he stripped the rest of her bare and tenderly worshiped the quivering inner skin of her thighs, her navel.

  Another moan wrenched from her lips. “Spoken like a man.”

  Determined to make her concede it was fooli
sh to stay away from each other physically, the way they had been trying to do, he left a trail of kisses over her lower abdomen, her silky-wet center. Aware he wanted every part of her, he murmured, “You can fib all you want, but I know you want me, too.”

  She leaned forward, took his head in her hands and kissed him back in the way he’d been wishing for. “How?” she demanded, stubborn as ever.

  “By this.” He touched her erect nipples. Moved lower still, to the dampness between her thighs. “And this.” He moved his fingers in the way she liked, until she pulsated. “And this.”

  “So I’m weak...” She arched against him pliantly, still kissing him. “At least,” she whispered, “where you’re concerned...”

  He moved her hand to the proof of his desire, wanting, needing her to feel what she did to him, too. “Then that makes two of us,” he told her gruffly, “because I can’t resist you, either....”

  Ginger knew she could have let Rand possess her then. They would have both climaxed, and could have called it a night. But she didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want him having all the fun. All the control. So she stripped him naked, too. Made him take a turn on the swing while she found new and inventive ways to pleasure him. And only when he put his hands beneath her bottom and tugged her to him, did she straddle him again. Only when he kissed her with the passion that had been so sorely missing from their married life, did he fill her with one smooth stroke, pressing into her with such perfection that she cried out from the sheer pleasure of it. Only then did she let him send her spiraling again, and only then, when she was at the pinnacle of desire, did he follow.

  To their mutual pleasure, the aftershocks were as potent as their lovemaking had been. Letting them know that once again they had risked it all. Just to be together again.

  Trembling, Ginger clung to Rand.

  She couldn’t believe she had done this. Again. Let her heart get miles ahead of her head, let them risk such disappointment. But she had. Worse, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do about it.