Wanted: Texas Daddy. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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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 back 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?”
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