The Texas Wildcatter's Baby

“Yeah.” Ginger wrinkled her nose. “She won’t be happy when this union ends in divorce, too, but that is a problem for another day. My task right now is to get some sleep, ASAP.”

Rand couldn’t argue that. She was pregnant, after all. It had been a very long day. “Need some help getting out of that dress?”

Looking lovelier than ever, she stood, pivoted and arched a delicate brow. “Really?”

“Hey.” He lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Just offering.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Shaking her head, Ginger went over to the luggage stand and opened her overnight bag. Blinked, and blinked again. A litany of frustrated words followed.

“What?” Curious as to what had her so upset, Rand rose and sauntered over. Ginger held up a very sexy white negligee in one hand and a very feminine sundress, equally unlike her, in the other. Aside from that, and a handful of very brief satin-and-lace undies, another pair of shoes, an unopened package of pantyhose and a toiletries bag, there was nothing in the bag. Trying not to imagine what she would look like in all or none of the above, he quipped, “Not what you were expecting?”

“Obviously, someone—my mother, most likely—took out everything I had planned to wear tonight and tomorrow, and replaced it with all this.”

Rand’s grin turned into a hearty chuckle.

Blushing mightily, Ginger wagged a finger in his direction. “You laugh now. But this begs the question. What’s in your overnight bag, cowboy?”

* * *

GINGER WATCHED AS a bemused Rand plucked out a pair of discrete black satin boxers, a razor, more cotton underwear, a starched button-down shirt, a pair of khakis and another pair of shoes.

“Who did yours?”

Rand pointed to the proper morning-after-the-wedding clothing. “Probably my mother.” He caught sight of a gift bag stuck in a side pocket. The names of all four of his brothers were on the tag. “And then—” Rand groaned at the contents: a G-string with a big silver wedding bell on the front “—my siblings got into the act.”

Next to that, was a big box of condoms.

Not, Ginger thought, that they would be needing those—even if she hadn’t already been pregnant. She rolled her eyes. “Nice.”

“Thoughtful,” he agreed. Putting everything down but the provocative scrap of spandex, he asked, “Want me to try it on?”

Actually, yes, but that would lead to nothing but trouble. And they were in enough hot water as it was. So, instead, she gave him The Look.

Grin widening, he set it down. “I’m guessing that’s a no.”

He, however, did not look any the less discouraged. Trying not to think about what the mischievous light in his blue eyes portended, Ginger went back to studying the contents of her bag, then buried her face in her hands. “Well, now what are we going to do?” She had hoped to get two rooms somewhere and wear practical cotton pajamas to bed. Alone.

Beside her, Rand shook his head, looking just as distraught. “I don’t know. We can’t wear any of this.” He shrugged helplessly. “We’ll just have to go to bed naked.”

Ha! As if he could rope her into that! After the incredibly romantic evening they’d had? Even if it hadn’t been their doing. “Nope. We won’t. You know why? Because—” she disappeared into the bathroom and emerged victoriously with two thick white spa robes “—we have these!”

Rand stroked his jaw, looking ruggedly handsome as ever. He leaned close. Inhaling the scent of him, she realized he still smelled amazing. His expression amused, as if he knew where her thoughts kept wandering, he quipped, “Naked under that is good, too.”

Ginger huffed in indignation. “I won’t be naked.”

His mouth quirked but he held his silence.

“I’ll still have on my underwear.” She felt the need to rush on. “Maybe my stockings, too.” Just for good measure. With him around, she needed every bit of clothing she could get.

When he still said nothing, she turned her gaze back to his. He stood, legs braced apart, hands propped on his waist. “Now what are you thinking?”

His gaze trailed lazily over her before returning ever so slowly to her face. “I’m imagining what kind of frilly, sexy undies you do have on under that dress.”

Squirming with embarrassment, Ginger caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and saw her cheeks were a deep rose pink. “Well, you’ll never know.” Determined to keep him at arm’s length, both emotionally and physically, Ginger swept into the large bath and shut the door behind her.

Unfortunately, she soon found out, Rand’s playful attitude was the least of her problems.

* * *

“AND HERE I thought you’d be down to your skivvies by now,” Rand drawled when Ginger finally surrendered to the inevitable and opened the bathroom door. She swept into the suite, the skirt of her wedding gown rustling softly as she moved.

To her relief, he had done nothing more about undressing. And was, in fact, reclining on the king-size bed, hands clasped behind his head. His pleated white shirt was half unbuttoned. His cufflinks were off, the sleeves rolled up past his muscular forearms. He’d taken off his shoes, too.

Once again, his eyes caressed her. His gaze lingered on the cleavage spilling out of her fitted bodice, then drifted languidly over her waist, hips and thighs “You do look a mite skinnier now, though,” he said after his long, slow perusal.

Wishing there was another option, Ginger moved toward him reluctantly. “It’s because I took my petticoat off.”

“Ah.” Another pause and furrow of his dark brow. “What’s a petticoat?”

“The froufrou thing that goes under my skirt to make it stand out. It’s sort of like a half-slip for formal attire.” She perched beside him on the bed, aware he hadn’t moved a muscle. He looked turned on and frustrated.

She swallowed around the sudden dryness of her throat. “And you knew that, didn’t you?”

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sensual smile. “I might not have. Only having brothers and all that.”

Ginger recollected what she knew about the state’s most famously successful lady wildcatter. “But your mom...”

“Was a debutante in Dallas before she met and married my dad.”

“And still goes to a party or two?” Ginger prompted.

Rand nodded proudly. “She does. Although she prefers jeans and boots and an oil rig to any black tie affair.”

Ginger wiggled her toes, which were still aching from the hours spent in beautiful, impractical high heels. “I can second that.”

Rand remained where he was. “So. What’s your problem?” He had all the predatory watchfulness of a man in hot pursuit.

“I can’t seem to get out of this dress,” Ginger admitted reluctantly.

He appeared to mull that over. “You could sleep in it.”

True, but...the fitted bodice was so snug. Ginger wrinkled her nose. “It wouldn’t be very comfortable.”

His grin turned wicked. “Ready to get naked, then?”

Heavens, no! “I just want you to undo the back of my dress. Please.”

Kindness mixed with desire. He laid a hand across his heart. “Well of course I’ll do my husbandly duty.”