not.”
“But if you are,” he insisted, “I’d like for us to stay married until after the baby’s born.”
Trying to think, she rubbed her forehead. “I can’t go with you. I’m expected back in Dallas tomorrow for a board meeting. I have to turn in my reports on the most likely candidates to endorse Sagebrush Boots.”
“That can be taken care of by overnight express or a fax to your father.”
Kristen felt the color drain from her face. What would Mike say if he knew his daughter had awakened this morning to find herself married to, and possibly pregnant by, the very man he’d warned her to avoid?
She glanced up at Chance. Her husband. The thought of being married to the sexiest cowboy she’d ever met set loose some very heated sensations in places that had no business being warm and tingly. She closed her eyes to keep the feelings from building. Getting all hot and bothered over the man she’d accidentally married was not solving the immediate problem.
To get her mind back on track, she thought of how Mike would take the news. Her father would undoubtedly take things a whole lot better if she’d married anyone but Chance Warren. The last name of Warren never failed to send Mike Lassiter into a tirade, but she’d never been able to figure out why.
Six years ago, when she’d first started soliciting endorsements for Sagebrush Boots, Mike had told her that under no circumstances was she to approach Chance. A successful, good-looking bull rider, he would have been the perfect spokesman for Sagebrush Boots and brought in a tremendous amount of business. But her father refused to budge on the issue. As long as Mike drew breath, a Warren would never get paid to endorse a pair of Sagebrush boots.
The gravity of what she’d done weighed her down and she closed her eyes. Mike would take one look at her and know something was up. And she’d already been a big-enough disappointment to the man just by being born female. If he found out she’d married Chance, she’d never see anything but contempt in his piercing gray gaze.
“Kristen, are you all right?” Chance asked, concern evident in his smooth baritone. “If going to my ranch bothers you that much, I’ll go with you to Dallas.”
Opening her eyes, she made a snap decision. She’d go with Chance to his ranch. At least until they sorted out what needed to be done about the annulment. Besides, it was much more appealing than the thought of trying to explain Chance’s presence in her apartment to Mike.
“Now that I think about it, it might be best if I do accompany you to your ranch,” she said coolly. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “I’ll fax my report along with a message that I’m taking a little vacation time.”
Chance nodded. “How long before you’re ready, then?”
“Fifteen minutes or so. But—”
“I’ll go down and take care of things at the front desk.” Shrugging into his denim jacket, he bent down and picked up their marriage license. “I’ll have a bellboy sent up to carry your luggage down to my truck,” he said, tucking the document into his breast pocket. “Once we have you checked out at the hospital, I’d like to get on the road.”
Before Kristen could protest his determination that she see a doctor, he walked to the door and left without a backward glance.
Chance sat next to Kristen in the waiting room of the urgent-care clinic, his gaze fixed on the poster tacked to the wall opposite him. He hated having to bring her here. The place was packed with sick people. The man seated next to Kristen coughed, and Chance cringed. He’d always heard the best place in the world to be exposed to germs was in a hospital or doctor’s office. What if she picked up something that made her miscarry?
He wasn’t sure when he’d started hoping she was pregnant, but he had. Hell, he wasn’t getting any younger. At thirty-four a man needed to start thinking about settling down and having a few kids.
Chance glanced at his wife. She wasn’t his type of woman. He’d always pictured himself with a country gal—a woman who at least knew the difference between a bull and a steer. A woman he could rely on.
But fate had stepped in and matched him up with the exact opposite of what he’d always thought he wanted. Fate had paired him up with a city gal. He frowned. A woman with the same type of background as his own mother’s.
He cut Kristen a sideways glance. One thing about it, though. She might not be his choice for the job, but they sure would make pretty babies together. The thought of how they’d get those babies made the region below his belt stir. It was a shame they wouldn’t stay married to make more than the one they’d probably conceived last night.
When the man next to Kristen coughed again, Chance planted his hands on the arms of the chair and levered himself to his feet. “Trade places with me, Kristen.”
“Why?”
He might have known she’d be stubborn about it. “Just do it, okay?”
“Chance, I’m perfectly fine right where I am.”
He purposely narrowed his eyes and hoped his face showed more determination than worry. “If you haven’t moved by the time I count to three, I’ll pick you up and move you myself.”
She glared back at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Watch me, sweetheart.” The guy next to her coughed for the third time. “One, two—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Giving him a look that might have wilted a lesser man, she rose from her chair to sit in the one Chance had just vacated. “Now are you satisfied?”
He grinned. “Yep.”
Relieved that she’d finally done as he asked, Chance seated himself between her and the man he was sure had something horribly contagious. Somewhere from behind them a small child sneezed, and Chance searched for a pair of empty chairs on the far side of the room. Every seat was taken.
Logically, he knew pregnant women faced this type of situation all the time. But Kristen wasn’t just any woman. She was his wife. Possibly pregnant with his baby. That made it personal. Real personal.
He wasn’t exactly comfortable with how much emotional investment he’d made in such a short time, but he wasn’t going to deny it, either. At least, not to himself. He might not have wanted a wife, but he’d always wanted to be a father.
A woman in a brightly colored smock stepped through the door at the back of the waiting area. “Kristen Lassiter.”
“It’s about damned time,” Chance muttered, bolting from the chair and pulling Kristen up with him.
When she swayed and leaned heavily against him, Chance glanced down to find that her face had bleached white as tissue paper. It was the same look she’d had back in the hotel just before she passed out. Without thinking twice, he scooped her up into his arms and headed toward the nurse.
“Second room on the right,” the woman said, hurrying to keep up with him.
Chance gently placed Kristen on the examining table in the room the woman indicated. Staring down at her, he noticed her pale cheeks were gaining more color, but her eyes remained closed. “Kristen, sweetheart, are you all right?”
“Go away,” she said through clenched teeth.
Her terse command made him feel a little better. At least she hadn’t lost her spunk.
The woman in the floral smock closed the door, then went over to sit at the desk on the far side of the room. Flipping open a metal chart, she asked, “What seems to be the problem, Ms. Lassiter?”
“Her last name’s Warren,” Chance told the nurse.
“But she registered under the name of Lassiter,” the woman said, frowning.
Chance looked at the name tag attached to