Did You Say Married?!

“I need the address of the nearest hospital,” he said, trying to be patient despite the desperation clawing at his insides.

“Is this an emergency, sir?” the woman asked, her voice efficient. “Do you need an ambulance?”

His gut instinct told him Kristen wouldn’t appreciate the added attention being hauled out on a stretcher would bring to their situation. “No, that won’t be necessary.” He laid the cool, damp cloth on Kristen’s forehead. “My wife fainted. As soon as she’s feeling strong enough, I’ll take her myself.”

When the woman rattled off the street name of the closest emergency clinic, Chance jotted down the information on a pad of paper he found on top of the nightstand. Hanging up the phone, he frowned as he ran the cloth over Kristen’s pale cheeks. He couldn’t believe how easily the word wife had rolled off his tongue. Damned if it hadn’t felt almost natural.

Kristen stirred and murmured his name.

Taking her hand in his, Chance marveled at how small and fragile it felt. “I’m right here.”

She opened her eyes and blinked. “Oh, no. It wasn’t a dream.”

He tried his best to give her an encouraging smile. “Afraid not, sweetheart.” He brushed an auburn strand of hair from her damp cheek. “When you’re feeling stronger, I’ll take you to see a doctor.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t need a doctor.”

“Yes, you do,” he said firmly. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his next question, so he took a deep breath, thanked God she wasn’t looking at him and asked straight out. “Are you on any kind of birth control?”

Her eyes snapped open. “That’s none of your business.”

When she tried to sit up, he put his hand on her shoulder to keep her from rising. “Yes, it is.” He tried to be as tactful as possible, but some things couldn’t be sugar-coated. “We just spent an entire night making love, Kristen. If you aren’t on some type of preventive, there’s a very real possibility that you might be pregnant.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and her eyes widened. “Maybe nothing happened,” she said, hope filling her expressive green gaze.

Chance swallowed hard. Although the memories he had of last night weren’t clear by a long shot, and he had several blank spots about exactly what had taken place, his body told him he knew this woman in every sense of the word.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, unable to keep the knowing grin from his face. “It happened, all right. And more than once or twice.”

Her cheeks colored a pretty pink. Amazing. He hadn’t seen a woman blush in years.

“No, I’m not taking anything for birth control.” He watched her fidget with the robe’s belt, her attention devoted to rolling the end around her index finger.

Was it possible the ice maiden was embarrassed?

She continued to focus on the terry-cloth belt. “There hasn’t been a reason.”

“So you haven’t been seeing anyone?”

Abandoning the belt, she glared up at him. “Why don’t you ask what you really want to know? Have I been sleeping with anyone?”

Chance gave her a short nod.

She looked as if she wanted to sock him one. “The answer is no.”

He refused to dwell on how relieved her admission made him feel. “Then if you are pregnant, the baby will be mine.” Placing the cloth on the bedside table, he took a deep breath. “Well, I think the best thing we can do now is see a doctor, then go from there.”

“I think it’s too early to tell.” She frowned, and he could tell she didn’t have any experience in this particular area. The observation pleased the hell out of him.

“When—”

“I’m not sure about the time table, but I think it will take a few weeks for a test to show any accurate results.”

“You fainted for a reason.”

“I told you, I have a cold,” she insisted. “Sometimes they settle in my inner ear.”

“Are you on medication?”

She nodded. “My doctor gave me a prescription before I left Dallas to come to the finals.”

Chance removed his hat, then ran his hand through his hair. “I’d like for you to check with a doctor before you take any more. Some of that stuff can hurt a baby.”

Kristen felt her stomach do a back flip. The situation grew more complicated by the minute.

“Maybe there isn’t anything to worry about.” Refusing to stay put any longer, she sat up. “There’s a big chance I’m not pregnant.”

“But there’s a possibility you are.”

“Will you stop saying that?”

The man had the audacity to ignore her protest. “It’s my child as much as yours, and I want what’s best.” She watched him replace his hat, then rest his forearms on his knees and stare down at his loosely clasped hands. “I’m not quite sure how to say this, so I’ll just spit it out.” He raised his gaze to meet hers. “I face up to my responsibilities. If you’re pregnant, you won’t have to go through this alone, Kristen. When the time comes, I’ll be right there beside you, helping make decisions about raising the baby.”

Decisions.

Kristen’s head throbbed and she really didn’t feel up to facing the possibilities he mentioned, let alone make decisions for a child that might not even exist.

“Okay, I’ll see a doctor as soon as I return to Dallas.” She might as well be reasonable about this. “When I find out something definite, I’ll call you.”

“No.” He stood, placed his hands on his lean hips, then stared down at her. “Nothing against you or your honesty, but I don’t know you well enough to know whether you’d contact me or not.”

“Then what do you suggest?” No way was she taking him with her back to Dallas.

“After we see a doctor here in Vegas about your fainting spell, I want you to go with me to my ranch in the Panhandle,” he said. “If it’s too early for a definite answer now, we’ll wait out the results there. Once we find out for sure what the verdict is, we’ll deal with it.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you that well.”

“We’re married.”

“Not for long.”

“If you’re pregnant—”

“I’m 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 the woman’s ample bosom. “We got married last night, Mary-Ann,” he said, using her first name and giving her a smile. “I guess it just takes a while for a woman to get used to her new last name.”

His friendly approach worked. Accepting his explanation, Mary-Ann smiled back. “Oh, yes. It took me months before I started thinking of myself by anything other than my maiden name.” She scribbled something on the chart, then came over to take Kristen’s blood pressure and pulse. “What seems to be the problem, Mrs. Warren?”

Kristen finally opened her eyes. “I have a sinus infection and—”

“She keeps fainting,” Chance explained, finishing for her. “She might be pregnant.”

If looks could kill, Chance figured he’d be a dead man in three seconds flat. The sparks flashing in Kristen’s eyes left no doubt how furious she was with him.

“Okay, I’ll make a note of that,” Mary-Ann said, taking Kristen’s temperature. The nurse wrote in the chart, then turned toward the door. “The doctor will be in shortly.”

The hushed click of the door closing behind the nurse seemed to revive Kristen. “Get out,” she ordered, sitting up and pointing to the now-closed door.

Chance stood his ground. “No.”

She made a kind of growling sound in the back of her throat that sounded as if she might just tear his head off and show it to him. “You have to be the most exasperating man on the face of the earth. Why did you tell that woman I might be pregnant?”

“It’s the truth,” he said reasonably. “And you wouldn’t have said anything about it.”

“Yes, I would.” She glared at him. “But you make it sound like a certainty. How many times do I have to tell you, the possibility is so remote, it’s not really worth considering?”

Before he could argue the point further, the door swung open and a tall gray-haired gentleman in a white lab coat walked into the room. He shook hands with Chance, then Kristen. “I’m Dr. Brayfield. I hear you aren’t feeling well, Mrs. Warren. What seems to be the problem?”

“Before I left Dallas, I was diagnosed with a sinus infection,” Kristen said, her gaze warning Chance to keep quiet. “I’ve been taking medication for it.”

“I see here you might be pregnant,” the doctor said, glancing at the metal chart he’d retrieved from the pocket on the door. “We’ll do a pregnancy test—”

“No,” Kristen said. “It won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, it is,” Chance said at the same time.

Dr. Brayfield glanced up over the top of his half glasses, his look questioning.

“We got married last night,” Chance explained. One look at Kristen told him he’d better sugarcoat the facts or he’d be in even bigger trouble than he already was. “We may want to start a family right away and I thought it best to make sure the medication is safe before she takes any more of it.” There, that should satisfy both her and the doctor.

Smiling, Dr. Brayfield nodded. “I understand. If last night was the first relations you’ve had without using any type of preventive, there’s no need to do a pregnancy test. The results wouldn’t be as accurate as they will be in a week or two.” He wrote something in the chart. “Now, what did your physician prescribe for your sinus infection, Mrs. Warren?”

Kristen gave Chance a warning look he was sure was meant to silence him, then told the doctor the name of the medication and her symptoms. “I’ve had this problem before,” she added. “Sometimes the infection settles in my inner ear and causes dizziness.”

“Is this the first time you’ve taken this prescription?” When she nodded, the doctor continued, “How long have you been on it?”

“Today will be the fourth day.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then asked, “Would drinking wine with this cause any kind of side effects?”

The doctor nodded. “Drinking any kind of alcohol with medication can cause side effects. Some serious, some less so. With this particular prescription there’s a possibility of memory lapses and uncharacteristic behavior.” He turned to Chance. “Have you noticed her acting differently than usual?”

Before Chance could answer, Kristen spoke up. “Yes. I married him last night. That was completely out of character for me.”

Apparently the doctor thought Kristen was joking because he chuckled and took an instrument from the wall. He shone the tiny light into her ears, then looked at her throat. “Mmm.” He jotted a note on the chart, then handed her some sample bottles of capsules. “I’m going to change the medication you’re on. This should clear up both the sinus and inner ear problems within a few days.”

“Is this safe in case she’s pregnant?” Chance asked pointedly.

Dr. Brayfield nodded. “This is much safer and has fewer side effects.” His grin wide, he winked. “No more accidental marriages.”

“I’m glad I insisted on your seeing a doctor,” Chance said, pulling his truck from the clinic parking lot. “You might have passed out when I wasn’t around and hurt yourself or the baby.”

Kristen glared at him. “Will you stop talking as if it’s a fait accompli? All we know for sure is that I have an ear infection. We don’t know if I’m pregnant.”

“We don’t know that you aren’t, sweetheart,” he said, shrugging. He grinned, and his face went from handsome to drop-dead gorgeous. “If passion and desire have anything to do with it, I’d say we have a bun in the oven for sure.”

She supposed she should be upset that he insisted on calling her “sweetheart.” But she wasn’t going to ask him to stop. She couldn’t explain it, but somehow when Chance used the endearment, it just felt…right.

Trying to turn her attention to something other than the man beside her, she focused on his “bun” comment. Most of her friends would have considered it crude, a remark best left to the lower social circles. But coming from Chance, it made her want to put on a baker’s hat and…

Shaking her head to dislodge the erotic thought before it took hold, she remembered he hadn’t listened to her objections over seeing a doctor. It appeared that Chance had a lot in common with Mike. He never listened to her, either.

Kristen stared out the truck window at the barren landscape of the Las Vegas outskirts. What would Mike do when he found out she’d married Chance? Would she be disowned?

The thought of his disapproval caused an instant sadness.

She—Mike’s only child—had turned out to be a girl instead of the son he’d wanted. That had been the first time Kristen had disappointed him. Then, in the last twenty-seven years, she’d never seemed to measure up, never been able to do anything to win his acceptance and love.

Now, with the mess she’d gotten herself into last night, she feared she’d never see an expression of approval on Mike’s face. Not for her, not for anything she accomplished. Unexpectedly, her breath caught on a soft sob.

“What’s wrong, Kristen?”

His big hand covered hers where it rested in her lap. “Don’t worry.” He twined their fingers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “We’ll get through this together. I’m here for you, sweetheart.”

Kristen swallowed hard. Why did her insides turn to melted butter every time he spoke in that soft, sexy drawl?

“I guess I’m just a little tired,” she lied. She wasn’t about to try explaining something she didn’t understand herself. “I’ll be fine.”

Chance turned her hand loose to reach down and release the catch on her seat belt. “Why don’t you move over here to the middle of the seat and rest your head on my shoulder? You look like you could use some sleep.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You aren’t feeling well, Kristen.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “We have a long way to go. Maybe if you take a nap you’ll feel better.”

It might have been his softly spoken words, or the feel of his hand on her cheek. She couldn’t be sure. But she suddenly felt drained of all energy.

“Maybe for just a few minutes.”

When she scooted over and secured the center seat belt, Chance put his arm around her. She placed her head against his shoulder and it pleased the hell out of him. It shouldn’t have. But it did. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax and try to rest.”

Seconds after closing her eyes, her breathing became shallow, signaling that she’d fallen asleep.

Chance set the cruise control and adjusted the position of the steering wheel down to a more comfortable angle. He draped his left wrist over the top, then settled back for the long drive ahead. He had a lot to think about and several hundred miles to get it all sorted out.

Although Kristen hadn’t exactly warmed up to him, he’d noticed a vulnerability about her in the hotel room once she’d regained consciousness. There had been an uncertainty in her demeanor that he never in a million years would have associated with the ice maiden. She’d turned pale as a ghost when he’d mentioned sending those reports to her father.

A bull of a man, Mike Lassiter wore his expensive western-cut suits with a style and grace that belied his considerable size. But that hadn’t been what made a lasting impression on Chance. It had been the open hostility Lassiter displayed on the few occasions they’d been around each other. Chance couldn’t remember ever having talked to the man. But for some reason, each time he caught Lassiter staring at him, the man’s eyes had been filled with intense loathing.

Chance absently stroked Kristen’s silky auburn hair with his right hand. From the look of fear she’d displayed at the thought of going back to Dallas to face her father, Chance figured the rumors about Lassiter had to be right on the money. Over the years, Chance had heard plenty about Mike Lassiter and his demands of perfection; how he made it impossible for anyone to ever live up to his expectations. It was even rumored the man’s late wife had died from being so unhappy.

Chance glanced down at his own sleeping wife. How could any man intentionally create the apprehension in a woman that he’d seen in Kristen? And why?

His hand, draped over the steering wheel, tightened into a fist at the thought of anyone intimidating Kristen.

He had a feeling he was about to jump buck-naked into a hornet’s nest, but he’d be damned if he’d let Mike Lassiter run roughshod over Kristen. Even though their marriage was temporary, as her husband, Chance had an obligation to protect her. And if that meant crossing her own father to do it, then that’s exactly what he’d do.

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