Free THE TEXAS WILDCATTER'S BABY by CATHY GILLEN THACKER Page B

cliché.” Unbearably sexy and sensual, yes.
    Oblivious to the ardent nature of his thoughts, and the growing hardness of his lower body, she shot him a skeptical look and sighed. “You say that now...”
    He meant it now. She was without a doubt the most fascinating and infuriating woman he had ever met. The woman he wanted most to bed...with or without his wedding ring on her finger.
    Ginger sighed and broke open another chocolate sandwich cookie. “But when my mother finds out...”
    He studied the troubled sheen to her dark green eyes, the slight tremble of her lower lip. “You think your mom will be happy about the baby?” he asked softly.
    Ginger groaned. “Over the moon.” She patted Rand on the hand, then stood. Finished with her snack, she headed for the bedroom. “And that, ‘honeybunch,’” she drawled over her shoulder, mocking his earlier faux endearment, “is when the trouble starts.”
    Rand had no idea what Ginger meant by any of that. But sensing she needed her space, he let her have her privacy, only heading for bed when he was certain she was sound asleep.
    * * *
    W HEN HE WOKE the next morning, a little after dawn, she was already up. Papers, computer, maps spread all over the living area of their cottage.
    She was still in her pajamas, glossy hair knotted on top of her head, a mug of decaf coffee in her hand. A pan of cold oatmeal was on the stove. “You know there’s a free breakfast buffet at the main house every morning,” he reminded her.
    She nodded.
    “We could go over together.”
    She barely looked up from the mounds of data she was studying. “No time.” She flashed a wan, distracted smile. “You go ahead. And don’t come into my temporary office. I don’t want you looking at any of my plans until the Boernes ask you to do so.”
    He lifted a palm. “Firewall. I swear.”
    “Good.”
    Rand went to breakfast, ate and brought her something back.
    She looked at the plate he carried in stunned amazement.
    “In case you get hungry later.”
    For a second she looked longingly at the quiche and fruit salad, then went right back to what she had been doing. “Thanks, that looks really good. Mind putting it the fridge?”
    “No problem.”
    Aware he had his own appointments to keep that day, he headed out, only to come in contact with an attractive fifty-something brunette in their front yard. She was dressed in oversize denim work clothes and engineer-style boots. A backpack laptop case slung over one sturdy shoulder, her hands were filled with rolled-up maps.
    Rand paused to tip his hat. “Maria Gonzales, I presume?” He recalled Ginger mentioning the previous night that her drilling partner, a happily married woman with three teenage sons, would be here every day, working with her. And this woman sure fit the bill.
    Dark eyes twinkled. “And you must be the never-stops-working-either Rand McCabe—the guy who finally got Ginger to settle down again.”
    Rand didn’t know about that. His new wife still seemed to have both feet as far out the door as she could get, without raising any more eyebrows than they already had.
    Maria put her maps down long enough to shake Rand’s hand. “I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m glad I am. Ginger needs a big strong hunk of burnin’ love like you to spice up her life.” She winked. “And the fact you’re doing it with wedding rings on your fingers is even better.”
    Ginger appeared in the doorway. Her elegant cheekbones were highlighted with a rosy-pink flush. “Rand and I may be hitched—”
    Temporarily , he could see that his new wife wanted to add, but wisely didn’t, lest she blow their cover.
    “—but that doesn’t mean anything important about our lives is going to change,” Ginger finished, stubborn as ever.
    The long-married Maria chuckled, picked up her maps and turned back to Rand. “I see you’ve both still got some ‘adjusting’ to do,” she teased.
    Rand nodded, and just for the fun of it, hauled