Cathy Thacker - Wanted - Texas Daddy

His low masculine laugh filled the interior of the limo. “Oh my is right.” He brought her close for a long lingering kiss, ended only by the intrusion of their driver opening the door. Nick emerged first, then assisted her in getting out, not an easy thing, given the fact that they were still in their wedding finery and the silk chiffon skirt of her dress was poufed enough to disguise her pregnancy. The driver followed them with the bags they had hastily packed before leaving Laramie County. Nick at his ranch house, she at her apartment on her way out of town.

They swept through the lobby, getting grins from everyone who saw them. “Congratulations!” more than one person called out as they signed in.

The bellhop escorted them to their suite and set their suitcases in the bedroom. He returned with a flourish, announcing, “Metro Equity Partners thought you might be in need of a late-night supper. So...” Another uniformed attendant rolled a room service table into the living room.

Silver-domed dishes were placed on an elegantly made-up table for two, next to an ice bucket containing a bottle of exquisite champagne, sparkling water and ginger ale.

Which was good, Sage thought.

Because now that she was awake, she was feeling a little nauseated. She wondered if there were any crackers in the minibar. If not, the elegant dinner rolls in the basket would probably take the edge off.

She smiled appreciatively as Nick tipped the attendants. “Seems like the partners have thought of everything.”

“Let us know if we can do anything else.” The attendants disappeared.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starved,” Nick said.

He took off the lids with a flourish.

The roasted filet mignon and butter poached lobster tail had her feeling a little iffy, but it was the garlic prawns with Cajun aioli that really sent Sage over the edge.

* * *

“SAGE, COME ON, open the door.”

She leaned over the toilet bowl, arms folded over the cool porcelain. “No.”

“I sent all the fish away.”

She closed her eyes against the husky rumble of his voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Ah, actually, Sage? I kind of think I did.”

How could he maintain his sense of humor when she had just ruined everything? She moaned again, in even more distress. “I’m sorry.”

The other door that opened up off the bedroom, the one she hadn’t time or foresight to lock, swung inward. Nick strolled in. “What do you have to be sorry about?” He knelt down beside her.

He cupped a hand beneath her chin, and regarded her tenderly. “You’re pregnant. I’m the one who should have thought to ask what was in there first, before lifting the room service domes and treating you to all those aromas.”

The memory of the sights and smells made her shudder with distaste.

“I’m guessing it was the shrimp.”

“Prawns,” she admitted with difficulty. “And yes.” My heavens, yes.

He stroked a hand through her hair—or tried—the elegantly upswept curls were still heavily lacquered into place. “I’ve seen people throw up before, you know.” He wet a washcloth with cool water, wrung it out and placed it on the back of her neck.

She wallowed in her misery. “You haven’t seen me.”

He gazed at her possessively. “If we’re living together, that is going to change.”

What was he talking about? Sage sat back on her haunches and stared at him. “Living together?” she repeated.

“Well—” he shrugged, pausing to get comfortable, too “—now that we’re married, I figured we’d spend the night together whenever I am in town, and then when the baby comes, and I don’t have to travel so much...”

As much as Sage wanted to lean on him then, the way she was now, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “You know this isn’t a real marriage.” More like a convenient arrangement. For business reasons.

“It can still be any kind of union we want it to be.”

Why did he have to look so sexy? Especially under these circumstances? He should be irritated. Repelled. Not ready to move in with her!

Proceeding cautiously, she asked, “What kind of union do you want it to be?”

Mischief twinkled in his deep blue eyes. “The kind where we have a lot of great sex.”

Sage rolled her eyes. “You would say that now.” When I’ve just finished throwing up and feel and look like death warmed over.

Chivalrously, Nick helped her to her feet. “And have long talks,” he said. “The kind that last all night.”

She could go with that. It was what brought them together in the first place.

Tilting her head to study him closely, she murmured, “Or times when we say nothing at all, and it’s still okay.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Shakily, she headed for her suitcase to get her toiletries bag. Nick stood by, ready to help if need be, as she removed her toothpaste and brush and then returned to the bathroom. Still fighting residual waves of nausea, Sage tried not to think how intimate this all was. “What else?”

He lounged a short distance away as she brushed her teeth, then handed her a towel. “I’d like to know we could be apart and still do our own thing and still be okay.”

Sage blotted her mouth. “We will be.”

He smoothed a stray curl from her cheek and admitted softly, “And I’d like to think that when the baby comes, we’ll also enjoy spending lots of time together as a family, as we adjust to those new roles.”

Strangely enough, she’d been able to picture that from the first, even before they’d made love or she asked him to father their child.

Sage glanced in the mirror, noting her tiara really was askew. She wondered for how long it had been. Perching 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.