The Texas Wildcatter's Baby. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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quipped, raking a hand through her hair.
“You, too, young man,” Josie scolded, stomping closer. “You know better!”
To Ginger’s relief, she wasn’t the only one taking exception to their public dressing down.
“Look,” Rand was saying to his mother, “it’s not as if I haven’t done this once before. I had a proper wedding the first time around.”
Rand had been married before? To whom? Ginger wondered, a tinge of jealousy trickling through her. But there was no time to delve into it. She could see that both mothers expected her, at least, to want the big, ultra-romantic wedding they had painstakingly organized, in lieu of the quick, no-frills elopement she and Rand had been hoping to have. Hence, Ginger had no choice but to set the record straight.
She sighed in exasperation. “I also had a big fancy wedding the first time.” A fact her mother well knew. Consequently there was no need to go through that circus again. Even if the union she and Rand were planning had been a real marriage, which it wasn’t.
Both mothers seemed stunned by the twin revelations.
Rand and Ginger turned to look at each other. Belatedly she realized she didn’t know much about Rand, except how he felt about the environment and how great he was in bed. He knew very little about her, as well.
Abruptly aware they had overlooked a very important part of the marriage process, Ginger looked at Rand. “I think I need a moment alone with my, uh, fiancé.”
“Good idea.” Rand took Ginger by the arm and they headed down the driveway, not stopping until they were well out of earshot of everyone. Pivoting so no one would be able to read her lips, Ginger said ruefully, “We probably should have written a prenup.”
* * *
LEAVE IT TO Ginger, Rand thought, taking in her soft, kissable lips and too vulnerable green eyes, to bring a highly emotional situation right back to cold, hard business. It was something she always did when she felt backed into a corner in any way. Something, in the end, that always drove him away.
Not this time. Not when she was carrying their child.
Aware all eyes were still likely upon them, Rand shrugged. “No time to do it tonight.”
Ginger blinked up at him and raked her teeth across her lower lip. A pulse worked in her throat. “But we’ll draw something up first chance we get?”
Rand nodded. As much as he would have preferred not to have to put themselves through that, Ginger had a point. It would make things simpler in the long run, if they put everything in writing well in advance of their divorce.
“In the meantime,” Ginger continued practically, “in lieu of an actual marriage contract...how about a handshake deal?”
Cocking his head, he studied her face. “I’m listening.”
“What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is yours. There will be no community property gained during the union for us to quarrel about.”
Her voice was calm enough, but he heard the steel-magnolia undertone. There would be no negotiating this or anything else in their union, at least as far as she was concerned.
He had a different idea.
Because he wasn’t about to be pushed around by Ginger or any one else. “Everything regarding custody of our child will be equal, too.”
This time she did not hesitate. “Right.”
He relaxed in relief. “Okay, then.” He tugged her in close and put one arm around her waist, shaking her other hand surreptitiously, in the age-old sign of a satisfactorily completed business deal. He whispered against her temple, “Let’s do it.”
“All right, you two!” Cordelia called from behind them. “Enough of that! We’ve got a wedding to put on!”
Once again, family interfered. Rand was escorted one way, Ginger another. A flurry of preparations followed.
Two hours later they were all together again, surrounded by two hundred of their closest family and friends.
This wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a temporary legal formality, Rand thought in surprise. But standing next to the flower-strewed arbor in his parents’ backyard, with a string quartet playing and his brother Colt stepping in to serve as best man, it sure felt like a real wedding. And, if the sweetly vulnerable look on Ginger’s face as she floated down the aisle on her mother’s arm was any indication, she was completely taken aback by the unexpected authenticity of the moment, too.
Colt teased Rand affectionately as Ginger neared. “I understand why you were in such a hurry to get a ring on her finger.”
Ginger was beautiful, Rand thought, taking the opportunity to drink her in. Never more so than right now in her wedding finery.
The ivory-satin gown lovingly cupped her breasts, nipped in at her waist and left her arms and shoulders bare. The full skirt fell in a seductive swirl past her ankles. A sparkling tiara, attached to a short veil, was threaded through her upswept copper hair. As she neared him, her eyes met his. Held. As he took her hand in his, her delicate cheeks grew pink and her soft lips parted. Her chest rose as she took in a deep, enervating breath.
And then the ceremony began.
* * *
GINGER HADN’T BEEN this caught up in the ceremony the first time she’d been to the altar. To be feeling so breathless with excitement was...well, completely unprecedented, unexpected. And, she forced herself to admit, unrealistic. Yet, standing there with her hands clasped in Rand’s large, capable palms, looking deeply into his midnight-blue eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a little swept away.
Maybe it was the way he looked in that dark tuxedo, the striking contrast of the stark white shirt against the suntanned hue of his skin. Or how closely he had shaved, and the way his mahogany hair shone in the evening light. All she knew was that he smelled so damn good, like a sun-drenched forest just after a spring rain. That he felt so warm and was so tall and strong.
Maybe it was true, she thought, that women did instinctively search out the best specimen to father their children.
Right now, he seemed like the perfect mate.
To the point, it was easy to promise to have and to hold from this day forward.
At least, she added mentally, until the day their baby was born.
Then they’d see.
As she gazed into his eyes, she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
That, too, would be reassuring. Because it would mean they might have all the trappings of a real marriage.
But “real” was, like this union, in the eye of the beholder.
The minister’s voice rose, interrupting her thoughts. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder.” The reverend smiled broadly. “Rand, you may kiss your bride.”
And heaven help them both, he did.
Chapter Three
But it wasn’t just any generic end-of-the-wedding-ceremony-with-everybody-watching kind of kiss, Ginger thought in stunned amazement. It was a knock-your-shoes-off, make-you-tingle-from-head-to-toe embrace that weakened her knees. And had her surrendering to the warm, sure pressure of his mouth in a way she had never ever yielded before.
Not even to him. Not even during that fateful night when they’d made the baby she was carrying inside her.
This was something new. Something wonderful. Something suddenly and unexpectedly sanctioned.
And darn it all if Rand didn’t take full advantage of the situation. Both arms wrapped around her, he brought her closer, until she was hanging on to him, soaking up everything about him—his strength, his scent, his warmth and tenderness.