Wanted--Texas Daddy

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Which was good, Sage thought.

  Because now that she was awake, she was feeling a little nauseated. She wondered if there were any crackers in the minibar. If not, the elegant dinner rolls in the basket would probably take the edge off.

  She smiled appreciatively as Nick tipped the attendants. “Seems like the partners have thought of everything.”

  “Let us know if we can do anything else.” The attendants disappeared.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved,” Nick said.

  He took off the lids with a flourish.

  The roasted filet mignon and butter poached lobster tail had her feeling a little iffy, but it was the garlic prawns with Cajun aioli that really sent Sage over the edge.

  * * *

  “SAGE, COME ON, open the door.”

  She leaned over the toilet bowl, arms folded over the cool porcelain. “No.”

  “I sent all the fish away.”

  She closed her eyes against the husky rumble of his voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Ah, actually, Sage? I kind of think I did.”

  How could he maintain his sense of humor when she had just ruined everything? She moaned again, in even more distress. “I’m sorry.”

  The other door that opened up off the bedroom, the one she hadn’t time or foresight to lock, swung inward. Nick strolled in. “What do you have to be sorry about?” He knelt down beside her.

  He cupped a hand beneath her chin, and regarded her tenderly. “You’re pregnant. I’m the one who should have thought to ask what was in there first, before lifting the room service domes and treating you to all those aromas.”

  The memory of the sights and smells made her shudder with distaste.

  “I’m guessing it was the shrimp.”

  “Prawns,” she admitted with difficulty. “And yes.” My heavens, yes.

  He stroked a hand through her hair—or tried—the elegantly upswept curls were still heavily lacquered into place. “I’ve seen people throw up before, you know.” He wet a washcloth with cool water, wrung it out and placed it on the back of her neck.

  She wallowed in her misery. “You haven’t seen me.”

  He gazed at her possessively. “If we’re living together, that is going to change.”

  What was he talking about? Sage sat back on her haunches and stared at him. “Living together?” she repeated.

  “Well—” he shrugged, pausing to get comfortable, too “—now that we’re married, I figured we’d spend the night together whenever I am in town, and then when the baby comes, and I don’t have to travel so much...”

  As much as Sage wanted to lean on him then, the way she was now, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You know this isn’t a real marriage.” More like a convenient arrangement. For business reasons.

  “It can still be any kind of union we want it to be.”

  Why did he have to look so sexy? Especially under these circumstances? He should be irritated. Repelled. Not ready to move in with her!

  Proceeding cautiously, she asked, “What kind of union do you want it to be?”

  Mischief twinkled in his deep blue eyes. “The kind where we have a lot of great sex.”

  Sage rolled her eyes. “You would say that now.” When I’ve just finished throwing up and feel and look like death warmed over.

  Chivalrously, Nick helped her to her feet. “And have long talks,” he said. “The kind that last all night.”

  She could go with that. It was what brought them together in the first place.

  Tilting her head to study him closely, she murmured, “Or times when we say nothing at all, and it’s still okay.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Shakily, she headed for her suitcase to get her toiletries bag. Nick stood by, ready to help if need be, as she removed her toothpaste and brush and then returned to the bathroom. Still fighting residual waves of nausea, Sage tried not to think how intimate this all was. “What else?”

  He lounged a short distance away as she brushed her teeth, then handed her a towel. “I’d like to know we could be apart and still do our own thing and still be okay.”

  Sage blotted her mouth. “We will be.”

  He smoothed a stray curl from her cheek and admitted softly, “And I’d like to think that when the baby comes, we’ll also enjoy spending lots of time together as a family, as we adjust to those new roles.”

  Strangely enough, she’d been able to picture that from the first, even before they’d made love or she asked him to father their child.

  Sage glanced in the mirror, noting her tiara really was askew. She wondered for how long it had been. Perching on the cushioned stool, she began working the pins out of her upswept hair.

  When she still couldn’t get the glittering headpiece free, he moved to help her. His fingers moving gently in her hair, he worked it out and then set it on the bathroom counter. “What about you?” he asked gruffly. “What kind of parameters do you think our marriage should have?”

  “I guess I want pretty much what we had before. We’re only together when we want to be. We don’t owe each other phone calls. Or have to check in. Or feel in any other way constrained. What is yours is yours, what is mine is mine.”

  The smile on his lips reached his eyes. “Except for this baby we’re having.”

  “Which is ours,” Sage agreed wholeheartedly.

  A comfortable silence fell.

  “Feeling better now?” Nick asked.

  Not exactly. But rather than dwell on the ever-present queasiness, Sage drew a deeply constrained breath and gestured at the formfitting bodice. “I will be as soon as I get out of this damn petticoat and dress.”

  He laughed, low and deep. “I think I can help you with that.”

  Unfortunately, no sooner had he started to ease the zipper down, than Sage felt that unmistakable urge to be sick. Again.

  Hand to his chest, she shoved him back out of the bathroom, and slammed the door in his face.

  And was sick, sick, sick...

  Finally, the retching stopped.

  Some honeymoon, Sage thought miserably, still hugging the porcelain.

  This time Nick didn’t ask to come in.

  As soon as the commode flushed, he opened the door and walked in. All big protective male. “Your stomach empty?”

  Sage nodded weakly. “I think so.”

  Once again, he assisted her to her feet. “You need to go to bed.”

  “Nick...”

  He rolled his eyes. “Not for that, sweetheart. For some much-needed sleep.” He turned her around. Eased the rest of the zipper down, and assisted her out of the skirt and petticoat.

  His brows lifted appreciatively at her sexy wedding lingerie. Sage hadn’t thought it necessary at the time. Although what else she would have worn under such a romantic dress, she did not know.

  Now, however, if they hadn’t been dealing with the catastrophe of evening sickness, she could see where it would have come in handy.

  But certainly not now.

  Once again, he rushed to her aid. He grabbed a thick and fluffy white spa robe from the hanger in the bathroom, eased her arms into it, then guided her to the bed.

  Appreciating the warmth and softness of the garment, almost as much as she appreciated his kindness, Sage wrapped it around her. “Could you do me a favor and see if you can find me some saltines?”

  “Sure thing.” He looked in the minibar, then slammed it shut. “Be right back.” He eased out of the hotel room.

  She changed into her light-blue-and-white floral pajamas, then climbed beneath the bed covers.

  * * *

  IT TOOK FIFTEEN minutes and a personal visit with the manager to the room service kitchen, but Nick rushed b
ack with a big bowl of crisp saltine crackers, and another bottle of chilled ginger ale in hand. Only to find Sage curled up in the big hotel bed, fast asleep.

  Aware, despite everything, that this was one of the best days of his entire life, he got ready for bed and climbed in beside her, wrapping her in his arms.

  She snuggled against him.

  The next thing Nick knew the bedside phone was ringing. Loudly.

  Sage moaned in distress. He felt the same.

  He reached across her to answer it, thinking this better be good. “Yep?”

  “Nick, MR.”

  What the...

  “Who is it?” Sage slid up on her elbows, looking so delectably tousled he had to tamp down the desire to make love to her then and there.

  She blinked furiously. “Is anything wrong?” she continued.

  “Our families are all fine,” Nick immediately reassured Sage. So far as he knew, anyway.

  Still struggling to wake up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, asked, “What’s going on, MR?”

  “My assistant and I are in the lobby.”

  A lot of words went through Nick’s mind. None of them pleasant. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?”

  “We need to talk. Can we come up?”

  Only able to imagine how his new wife might take such an intrusion, Nick said gruffly, “It might be better if I came down there.”

  Sage shook her head, grabbed his arm. As always, not one to put herself first. “It’s fine,” she mouthed and slipped from the bed.

  Nick swore silently. There went his plans to really pamper Sage this morning. Make up for the horrendous sickness the night before.

  Figuring they might as well get whatever-this-was over with, he ordered tersely, “Come on up.”

  He had just finished dressing when the knock sounded outside the suite. Barefoot, angry, he walked to the door.

  “Yeah?” he said, as MR brushed by him, Everett in tow. Both were clad in the type of business attire they usually wore. While Sage had come out of the bathroom and was standing there in her pajamas and robe.

  She’d brushed her hair, or tried. Whatever they had done to it before the wedding had left it a glorious curly mess. Her cheeks were bright pink, too, although he sensed that was as much from embarrassment as anything else.

  MR looked stunned. “You were still asleep?”

  Nick wrapped his arm protectively about Sage’s waist. “It’s barely nine in the morning.” And given the fact that Sage hadn’t stopped throwing up until almost 4:00 a.m., hell, yes, they were still asleep!

  MR said, “We have a partner meeting tomorrow afternoon to prepare for.”

  As if he could forget. Still...

  He had just gotten married last night.

  Even if it was, to his regret, purely for business purposes.

  The business proposal for Metro Equity Partners, on the other hand, was something they had been fine-tuning for months.

  Nick felt Sage slip away and move to a chair to sit down. “You want to do that now?” It was an effort to remain professional.

  MR nodded briskly. “At the office. Sage can stay here, of course.”

  “How long do you think it will take?” He worked to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  “Until we’re finished.” MR shrugged. “I didn’t think this would be a problem, since you only married so this deal would go through.”

  “It’s not,” Sage returned shortly. “Take care of business. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  MR brightened. “Thank you for your professionalism, Sage.”

  “We’ve got a car and driver on standby to take you wherever you would like to go today,” Everett said.

  For Sage, that decision seemed easy. “Then I’d like to go home. To Laramie, Texas.”

  Disappointment roiled through him.

  The last thing they needed was to start their marriage off on the wrong foot, as this certainly would.

  Nick pivoted to Sage, determined to salvage what they could. “Look, I know it’s not ideal. But you could go back to bed now, get some more sleep. Maybe go shopping or to a movie this afternoon. Or enjoy some of the spa services the hotel offers.” He paused to let his suggestion sink in. “And we could still have dinner tonight.”

  * * *

  FOR A MOMENT, Sage was tempted. She and Nick’d had so little time together over the past few days prepping for their nuptials, and their wedding night had been a total bust. She had been hoping to make up for it this morning, to leave them both with better memories.

  But before she could agree to his proposal, MR cut in briskly. “I’m not so sure about your being back in time for an intimate dinner, Nick. But Sage could join us at the office for our meetings. That is—” she turned back to Sage “—if Nick is okay with your knowing that much about his business.”

  This was becoming way too complicated, Sage thought. Furthermore, she did not want to put him on the spot. She’d rather leave things as they were. With him sharing whatever he liked about his work situation, and no more.

  Plus, she sensed his “work session” with MR and Everett, would go better without anyone else present to distract them. So, reluctantly, even though she sort of felt like a coward for deserting him, she bailed.

  “Honestly, Nick,” she fibbed, “I just want to go back to my apartment.”

  He pulled her aside, the concern in his eyes almost as thrilling as his sexy presence. “You’re sure about this?”

  Her heart pounding, even as her spirits sank, Sage nodded. “I have to work tomorrow. So do you. So...I really do have to go back.”

  Noting he seemed ready to argue, she curved a hand around his forearm. “This proposal is important, Nick.” She looked deep into his eyes. “You need to be here with MR and Everett to prepare for the pitch. And be ready for any questions the other partners might have.”

  MR nodded her approval. “When do you want to leave?”

  “Ten minutes?” Sage returned.

  She slipped back into the bathroom, bag in tow, washed her face and brushed her teeth, and put on her jeans, shirt and boots.

  “I’ll walk you down,” Nick said when she was ready.

  The last thing Sage wanted was an emotional goodbye. And given the way she was feeling...she was just pregnant enough, just hormonal and disappointed enough, to burst into tears at the slightest provocation. So, she faked courage she couldn’t begin to feel. “Not to worry, cowboy.” She slipped her bag over her shoulder and looped her wedding dress over her arm. “I’ve got this.”

  “Actually...” Everett stepped in dutifully to take her suitcase. “I’ve got it.”

  Was it her imagination or did Nick look as torn as she felt inside about her leaving? Enough to ask her—once again—to stay? Because if he had...

  Oblivious to her secret yearning, he leaned over to kiss her brow and promised instead, “I’ll call you.”

  Not trusting herself to speak, Sage merely nodded, then slipped out the door.

  Once again, she got a lot of looks as she walked through the lobby, her wedding finery folded over her arm.

  This time, none of them were envious.

  Maybe because her mood wasn’t exactly celebratory.

  Luckily, the town car was waiting at the curb, as promised. Everett held the door for her, while the driver set her bag in the trunk. As the chauffeur climbed behind the wheel, Everett motioned for Sage to roll her window down.

  She obliged. MR’s trusted assistant paused, still looking young in the face, but suddenly much, much older in the eyes. Like he had seen too much. “You seem like a really nice person,” he said at last.

  Perplexed, Sage smiled. What was going on here?

  She shrugged. “I hope so.”

&nb
sp; He seemed to struggle with something. Finally, he looked her right in the eye and said, “Everyone is going to tell you that you gained a husband last night.”

  She kind of had, Sage thought. Although no one but she and Nick knew just how unconventional their arrangement was.

  “But that’s not what happened,” Everett continued.

  Sage sensed a warning underlying his low, almost cordial tone. It was as if he knew something she didn’t. Her pulse skittering, she pulled herself together and asked nervously, “Then what did?”

  He sobered even more. “You lost your best friend.”

  Shock reverberated through her. “Nick?” she repeated in disbelief.

  The young man nodded pityingly, the grimness of his conviction making her lose her breath.

  “And don’t let anyone tell you any different.” He stepped back and, before she could ask him to clarify further, directed the driver to go.

  Chapter Five

  “Hey,” Luisa Vasquez said, stopping in shock as she walked through the back door to The Cowgirl Chef kitchen Sunday evening to get a jump start on the baking for the following day. As usual, the gifted baker was wearing a denim skirt, T-shirt and sneakers, and had her long inky black hair in a French braid. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t going to be back from your honeymoon for a couple of days.”

  Sage tried not to blush. “Neither Nick nor I can afford to take that much time off right now.”

  “You sure?” her assistant manager said. “Because I can handle things here for as long as necessary. It’s not like I don’t know all your recipes by heart. Or have enough help to carry us.”

  Sage knew that. She had hired two full-time baristas to handle the coffee and tea machines, another part-time bakery chef in addition to herself and Luisa, and four rotating cashiers/waitstaff, who arranged their hours around family responsibilities and/or college classes. All together, they were quite a team.

  “I’m not planning to stay much longer.” Sage cut rich and buttery triple-berry scone dough into wedges, and put them on parchment paper–lined baking sheets that would go in the walk-in until morning, when they’d be freshly baked.

  Luisa took over rolling out the buttermilk biscuit dough. She eyed Sage carefully. “Nick doesn’t mind?”