The Texas Wildcatter's Baby. Cathy Thacker Gillen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ begin to interpret. “How old were you?”

      “Twenty-two.”

      Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

      “Yeah.”

      She tilted her head and took a longer look. “And since?”

      Rand shrugged. “There’s been my work, as an environmentalist. And you.” She flushed in response. “So what about you?” He ate another grape. “How long were you married?”

      She toyed with a wedge of peach and lifted it to her mouth. “Four years.”

      He watched her savor the juicy fruit. “What happened?”

      She shrugged. “I realized Conrad was never going to take me seriously in a professional sense.”

      He sensed that was the least of it. Frustrated she wasn’t being more forthcoming, he searched her eyes and pressed on. “You felt disrespected?”

      “And then some. Plus...” She hesitated.

      He waited.

      She bit her lip. “I had the feeling deep down that something was missing between Conrad and me. Anyway, we split up two years ago. Got a quickie divorce. And all my mother’s done since is try to talk me out of the oil business and into another marriage that will last.”

      Rand saw trouble ahead. “Uh-oh.”

      “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,” СКАЧАТЬ