The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child: The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child

Ryder was suffering from the same deprivation albeit for different reasons. He wondered why she was here tonight. Might as well cure his curiosity, he thought, if he couldn’t cure his other deprivations. He walked toward the two of them.

Timothy only had eyes for Her Highness. Ryder cleared his throat. Both Timothy and the woman turned to look at him.

Timothy stiffened as if he were a marine and he’d just glimpsed a superior. Ryder almost wondered if he would salute. “Dr. McCall,” he said.

Bridget looked at him curiously. “Doctor?” she echoed. “I didn’t know you were a doctor.”

“We didn’t have much time to discuss our occupations. Your Highness,” he added.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Timothy’s eyes bulge in surprise. “Highness,” he said. “Are you a queen or something? I thought you said you were a representative of Chantaine.”

Bridget shot Ryder a glare, then smiled sweetly at Timothy. “I am a representative of Chantaine. A royal representative, and I hope you’ll consider the proposal I gave you about serving in Chantaine for a couple of years in exchange for a scholarship and all your living expenses.”

Ryder stared at the woman in horrified silence. She was trying to seduce away one of his prized residents. Timothy was brilliant. His next step should be to one of the top neurological hospitals in the States.

Ryder laughed. “Not in a million years,” he said.

Bridget furrowed her brow. “Why not? It’s a generous offer. Dr. Bing would benefit, as would Chantaine.”

“Because Dr. Bing is not going to make a gigantic misstep in his career by taking off for an island retreat when he could be one of the top neurological surgeons in America.”

Bridget’s furrow turned to a frown. “I find it insulting that you consider a temporary move to Chantaine a misstep. Our citizens suffer from neurological illnesses, too. Is it not the goal of a doctor to heal? Why should there be a prejudice against us just because we reside in a beautiful place? Does that mean we shouldn’t have treatment?”

“I wasn’t suggesting that your country doesn’t deserve medical care. It’s my job, however, to advise Dr. Bing to make the best decisions in advancing his career and knowledge.”

Princess Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at him. “I thought that was Dr. Gordon Walters’s job, although the man is nowhere to be found.”

Timothy made a choking sound. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to …” He walked quickly away without finishing his sentence.

“Well, now you’ve done it,” she said. “I was having a perfectly lovely conversation with Dr. Bing and you ruined it.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. The whole tenor of our conversation changed when you appeared. Dr. Bing was actually open to considering my offer to come to Chantaine.”

“Dr. Bing wanted to get into your pants,” Ryder said and immediately regretted his blunt statement.

Bridget shot him a shocked glance. “You’re the most insulting man I’ve ever met.”

“You clearly haven’t met many residents,” he said wearily. “I apologize if I offended you, but Timothy Bing doesn’t belong in Chantley or wherever you said you’re from.”

“Chantaine,” she said between gritted teeth. “I will accept your apology if you can direct me to Dr. Gordon Walters. He is the man I must meet.”

Ryder sighed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. Dr. Gordon Walters is not here tonight. He hasn’t been working in the position as chief resident adviser for some time. It’s not likely he’ll return.”

She cocked her head to one side and frowned further. “Then who will take his place?”

“No one will take his place. Dr. Walters is rightfully loved and respected. I am serving as his temporary successor.”

Realization crossed her face. “How wonderful,” she said, when she clearly found the news anything but.

Bloody hell, Bridget thought, clenching her fingers together. Now she’d put herself in a mess. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Yes, she and Dr. McCall had engaged in a spirited discussion, but surely he would come around once he heard more about Chantaine and the program she was offering.

“Well, I’m glad I’ve finally found the person who is currently in charge. Our first meeting in the elevator showed that you and I are both responsible, reasonable adults. I’m sure we’ll be able to come to an understanding on this matter,” she said, imbuing her words with every bit of positive energy she could muster.

Dr. McCall shot her a skeptical glance. “I’ll agree with your first point, but I can’t promise anything on the second. It’s good to see you again, Your Highness.” His gaze gave her a quick sweep from head to toe and back again. “Nice dress. Good evening,” he said and turned to leave.

It took Bridget an extra second to recover from the understated compliment that inexplicably flustered before she went after him. “Wait, please,” she said.

Dr. McCall stopped and turned, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

“I really do need to discuss Chantaine’s medical needs with you. I’m hoping we can come to some sort of agreement.”

“I already told you I couldn’t recommend that Timothy Bing spend two years in your country,” he said.

“But you have other students,” she said. “I’m sure you have students interested in many different areas of medical care. Coming to Chantaine would enable the physicians to get hands-on experience. Plus there’s the matter of the financial assistance we would offer.”

“I’m sorry, Your High—”

“Oh, please,” she said, unable to contain her impatience. “Call me Bridget. We’ve sung together in an elevator, for bloody sake.”

His lips twitched slightly. “True. Bridget, I’m not sure I can help you. Again, my number-one priority is guiding my students to make the best career decisions.”

Her heart sank. “Well, the least you can do is give me an opportunity to discuss Chantaine’s needs and what we have to offer.”

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders in a discouraging way, then pulled a card from his pocket. “Okay. Here’s my card. My schedule is very busy, but call my assistant and she’ll work you in.”

Work her in. Bridget clenched her teeth slightly at the words, but forced a smile. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

“Hmm,” he said in a noncommittal tone and walked away.

She barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him.

Raoul appeared by her side. “Are you all right, Your Highness? You look upset.”

“I do?” she asked, composing herself into what she hoped look like a serene expression. She was finding it more and more difficult to pull off instant serenity these days. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve just encountered a slight obstacle to completing my assignment for Chantaine.”

She watched Ryder McCall’s broad shoulders and tall form as he wove through the crowd. Slight obstacle was putting it mildly, but she’d learned that a positive attitude could get a woman through a lot of tricky spots. “I need to know everything about Dr. Ryder McCall by morning, if not before,” she muttered and glanced around the room. It was amazing what one could learn about a person in a social situation such as this. She might as well make the best of it.

Ryder walked into his house braced for chaos. His home life had become one big state of chaos bigger than the state of Texas since he’d inherited his brother’s boys. Instead of pandemonium, his home was dark and quiet, except for the sound of a baseball game. Ryder spotted his longtime pal Marshall lounging on the leather couch with a box of half-eaten pizza on the coffee table and a beer in his hand.

“Your sitter called me,” Marshall said, not rising. “As your official backup. She said one of her kids got sick, so she couldn’t stay. Just curious, where am I on that backup list?”

Pretty far down, Ryder thought, but didn’t admit it. There were two middle-aged neighbors, an aunt on the other side of town and his admin assistant before Marshall. Ryder suspected he’d called in favors too often if everyone had refused but Marshall. “Thanks for coming. How are the boys?”

Marshall cracked a wily grin. “Great. Gave them a few Cheerios, wore them out and tossed them into bed.”

“Bath?” he asked.

“The sitter took care of that before I got here. That Travis is a pistol. Didn’t want to go to sleep, so I gave him my best Garth Brooks.”

Ryder gave a tired smile. “Must have worked. I’ll give a quick check and be right back.”

“Cold one’s waiting,” Marshall said.

Ryder trusted Marshall to a degree, but he didn’t think leaving the kids with his buddy from high school on a regular basis was a good idea. He wouldn’t put it past Marshall to slip the boys a sip from his beer if he was desperate enough. When pressured, Marshall could get a little too creative, like the time he hot-wired the car of one of the school’s top wrestlers because his own car had died.

Marshall owned a chain of auto-mechanic shops across Texas. He wore his hair in a ponytail and tattoos were stamped over his arms and back. He hadn’t attended college, but he’d made a success of himself. Most people couldn’t understand their friendship because they appeared to be total opposites, but a mutual appreciation for baseball, some shared holiday dinners which had always included hotdogs and hamburgers and the fact that they both tried to show up during the hard times had made them like family.

With his brother Cory gone, Marshall was the closest thing to family Ryder had. His gut twisted at the thought, but he shoved the feeling aside and gently opened the door to the nursery. He’d learned to walk with stealthlike quiet during the last month. The possibility of waking the boys made him break into a cold sweat.

Moving toward the closest crib, he glanced inside and even in the dark, he knew that this was Tyler, and he was in Travis’s bed. Travis was in Tyler’s bed. He wasn’t going to complain. They were both lying on their backs in la-la land. Which was exactly where he would like to be.

Instead, he walked on quiet footsteps out of the room and gently closed the door behind him. Returning to the den, he saw Marshall still sprawled on his sofa with the same beer in his hand.

“They’re asleep,” Ryder said and sank into a leather chair next to the sofa. He raked his hand through his hair.

“I coulda told you that,” Marshall said. “I made sure they would sleep well tonight.”

He shot a quick glance at Marshall. “You didn’t give them any booze, did you?”

Marshall looked offended. “Booze to babies? What kind of nut job do you think I am?”

“Well, you aren’t around kids very much,” Ryder said.

“Maybe not now, but I was an in-demand babysitter in junior high school. Some things you don’t forget. And just in case you’re worried, this is my second beer. I wouldn’t go on a bender when I was taking care of your kids.”

Chagrined, Ryder rubbed his chin. “You got me. Sorry, bud. Being in charge of two kids is making me a little crazy.”

“A little?” Marshall said and shook his head. “You’ve turned into the nut job. You know what your problem is, you’re no fun anymore. Those babies sense it and it gets them all uptight, too. It’s like a virus. You spread it to the babysitters and it makes them crazy, so they quit. You need to get laid and go to a ball game.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Ryder said. “I’ll take your advice in a decade or so.”

“Lord help us if you wait that long,” Marshall said. “Maybe I could set you up with somebody. Take the edge off.”

Ryder slid him a sideways glance. “I’ll pass. You and I may root for the Texas Rangers, but we don’t share the same taste in women.”

“Your loss,” Marshall said, sitting upright. “I know some women who could wear you out and make you sleep like a baby.”

“I’ve learned babies don’t always sleep that well.”

“It’s your aura,” Marshall said. “That’s what Jenny, my ex, would say. Your aura is poisoning your environment.”

“A dependable nanny is what I need,” Ryder said.

“Well, if you can get a sitter, I’ve got tickets to the Rangers game on Thursday. Take care, buddy,” he said, rising from the couch and patting Ryder on the shoulder. “Keep the faith, bud. And move me up on that backup list. I’m more dependable than your Aunt Joanie. I bet she’s always busy.”

Ryder smiled despite himself. “You got it. Thanks. If I can find a sitter, I’ll go to that game with you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it. ‘Night,” Marshall said and loped out of the house.

Ryder sank farther into his chair, kicked off his shoes and propped his shoes onto the coffee table. He considered reaching for that beer, but drinking anything would require too much energy. Hearing the roar of the crowd and the occasional crack of the bat hitting the ball from the game on his flat-screen TV with surround system, he closed his eyes.

Making sure the twins were safe, taking care of his patients and covering for Dr. Walters were the most important things in his life, but he knew he needed help, especially with the twins. He’d never dreamed how difficult it would be to find dependable caretakers for the boys. His head began to pound. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Pinching the bridge of his nose, for one moment, he deliberately chose not to think about the next nanny he would need to hire and the deteriorating mental health of his mentor, Dr. Walters.

Ryder thought back to his high school days when he’d been catcher and Marshall had pitched. They’d won the state championship senior year. That weekend had been full of celebration. He remembered a cheerleader who had paid attention to him for the first time. She’d given him a night full of memories. Blonde, curvy and wiggly, she’d kept him busy. He hadn’t lasted long the first time, but he’d done better the second and the third.

His lips tilted upward at the memory. He remembered the thrill of winning. There had never been a happier moment in his life. He sighed, and the visual of a different woman filled his mind. She had dark shoulder-length hair with a wicked red mouth and cool blue eyes. She wore a black dress that handled her curves the same way a man would. She would be a seductive combination of soft and firm with full breasts and inviting hips. She would kiss him into insanity and make him want more. He would slide his hands into her feminine wetness and make her gasp, then make her gasp again when he thrust inside her….

Ryder blinked. He was brick-hard and his heart was racing as if he were having sex. He swore out loud.

He couldn’t believe himself. Maybe Marshall was right. Maybe he just really needed to get laid. His only problem was that the woman in his daydream had been Problem Princess Bridget Devereaux. Yep, Marshall was right. Ryder was a nut job.

Bridget read Dr. Ryder McCall’s dossier for the hundredth time in three days. He hadn’t had the easiest upbringing in the world. His father had died when he was eight years old. His mother had died two years ago.

Ryder had played baseball in high school and won an academic scholarship. He’d graduated first in his college class, then first in his medical-school class.

His older brother, Cory, had played football and earned a college scholarship. Unfortunately, he was injured, so he dropped out, took a job as a departmentstore manager and married his high-school sweetheart. They’d waited to have children. Six months after the birth of twin boys, they’d attended an anniversary dinner but never made it home. A tractor trailer jackknifed in front of them on the freeway. They both died before they arrived at the emergency room.

An unbelievable tragedy. Even though Bridget had lost both her parents within years of each other, she had never been close to them. Ryder had clearly been close to his brother. Now, a man who had previously been unswervingly focused on his studies and career, was alone with those precious motherless babies.

Her heart broke every time she read his story. This was one of those times she wished she had a magic wand that would solve all of Ryder’s problems and heal his pain. But she didn’t. As much as she wished it were true, Bridget was all too certain of her humanity.

In the midst of all of this, she still had a job to do. She needed to bring doctors to Chantaine, and Dr. McCall’s assistant hedged every time Bridget attempted to make an appointment. She would give the assistant two more tries, then Bridget would face Ryder in his own territory. If he thought an assistant would keep her at bay, he had no concept of her will. Surprise, surprise, especially to herself. She may have portrayed an airy, charming personality, but underneath it all, she was growing a backbone.

Chapter Two

Ryder left the hospital and picked up the boys after the latest sitter unexpectedly informed him that her child had a medical appointment she could not skip. He had an important meeting with several members of the hospital board this afternoon which he could not skip. He hated to press his admin assistant into baby service again, but it couldn’t be helped.

After wrestling the boys in and out of car seats and the twin stroller, he felt like he’d run a 10K race as he pushed the stroller into his office suite. Instantly noting that his admin assistant was absent from her desk, he felt his stomach twist with dread. She’d left her desk tidy and organized as usual. She’d also left a note on his desk. He snatched it up and read it.

Miss Bridget Devereaux called 3x this a.m. I can’t put her off forever. Gone to my anniversary celebration as discussed. Thank you for letting me off.

—Maryann

Ryder swore out loud then remembered the boys were in the room with him. “Don’t ever say that word,” he told them. “Bad word.”

He recalled Maryann asking for the afternoon off—it had to have been a week or so ago. He’d been busy when she asked and hadn’t given it a second thought. Now, he had to juggle his boys and an important meeting. He shook his head. Women managed children and careers all the time. Why was it so difficult for him? He was a healthy, intelligent man. He’d run marathons, worked more than twenty-four hours straight, brought a man back to life in the E.R., but taking care of these boys made him feel like a train wreck.

Ryder sat down at his desk and flipped through his contact list on his computer for someone he could call to watch the boys during his meeting. He sent a few emails and made three calls. All he got were voice mails.

“Well, hello, Phantom Man,” a feminine voice called from the doorway.

Ryder swallowed an oath. Just what he needed right now. He didn’t even need to look to know it was Princess Persistent. But he did and couldn’t deny that she was a sight for sore eyes. Wearing another black dress, although this one looked a slight bit more like business wear, she smiled at him with that wicked red mouth that reminded him of what he hadn’t had in a long time.

Dismissing the thought, he lifted his hand. “I have no time to talk. Important meeting in less than—” He glanced at the clock. “Thirty minutes. Got to find someone one to watch the boys.”

“Not having any luck?” she asked.

“No.”

“You sound desperate,” she said, sympathy lacking in her tone.

“Not desperate,” he said. “Pressed.”

“Oh, well as soon as you give me a time for our meeting, I’ll get out of your way.”

“I already told you I don’t have time,” he said in a voice that no one in their right mind would question.

She shrugged. “All I want is for you to pull up your calendar and ink me in,” she said. “You already agreed.”

“Not—”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You have your job. I have mine.”

Travis arched against the stroller restraints as if he wanted out. The baby wore an expression of displeasure, which would soon turn to defiance and fury, which would also include unpleasant sound effects. Ryder loosened the strap and pulled him into his arms.

Tyler looked up expectantly and began the same arching action against the stroller. Ryder withheld an oath.

“Want some help?” Bridget asked.

“Yes,” he said. “If you could hold Tyler, I have one more person I can—” He stopped as he watched her settle the baby on her hip. An idea sprang to mind. “Can you keep them for an hour or so?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “An hour?” she echoed. “Or so?”

“Just for this meeting,” he said. “I’ll leave as soon as possible.”

She shot him a considering look. “In exchange for an opportunity to discuss Chantaine’s medical proposition with you, and you having an open mind.”

“I agree to the first half. The second is going to be tough.”

“How tough would it be to take your twins to your important meeting?” she challenged.

The woman was playing dirty. “Okay,” he said. “As long as you understand, my first priority is my residents’ professional success.”

“Done,” she said. “Did you bring a blanket and some food?”

“Whatever the sitter keeps in the diaper bag,” he said, relief flowing through him like a cool stream of water. “Thank you,” he said, setting Travis in the stroller seat. “I’ll see you after the meeting,” he said and closed the office door behind him.

Bridget stared at the babies and they stared at her. Travis began to wiggle and make a frown face.

“Now, don’t you start,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “You haven’t even given me a chance.” She set Tyler in the other stroller seat and dove into the diaper bag and struck gold. “A blanket,” she said. “You’re going to love this,” she said and spread it on the floor. Afterward, she set Travis on the blanket, followed by Tyler.

The boys looked at her expectantly.

“What?” she asked. “You’re free from the bondage of the stroller. Enjoy yourselves.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t start crawling or anything. Okay? Let’s see what else is in the bag.”

Unfortunately, not much. She used up the small container of Cheerios within the first fifteen minutes and fifteen minutes after that, both boys had lost interest in the small set of blocks. She pulled out a musical toy and helped them work that over for several minutes.

Peekaboo killed a few more minutes, but then Bridget started to feel a little panicky. She needed more snacks and toys if she was going to keep the little darlings entertained. Grabbing some blank paper from Ryder’s desk, she gave each boy a sheet.

Travis immediately put it in his mouth.

“Let’s try something else,” she said and crumpled the paper.

He smiled as if he liked the idea. Great, she thought. More paper. She crumpled a few sheets into a ball and tossed it at them. They loved that. They threw paper all over the room.

After a few more minutes, Travis began to fuss, stuffing his fist in his mouth.

“Hungry?” It would help so much if they could tell her what they needed. Luckily two bottles were also stuffed in the bag. She pulled out one and began to feed Travis. Tyler’s face crumpled and he began to cry.

“Great, great,” she muttered and awkwardly situated both boys on her lap as she fed them both their bottles.

They drained them in no time. Travis burped on her dress.

Bridget grimaced. A second later, Tyler gave her the same favor.

At least they weren’t crying, she thought, but then she sniffed, noticing an unpleasant odor. A quick check revealed Travis had left a deposit in his diaper.

Ryder opened the door to his office prepared for screaming, crying, accusations from Bridget. Instead the boys were sprawled across her lap while she sang a medical magazine to the tune of Frère Jacques. He had to admit it was pretty inventive. His office looked like a disaster zone with papers strewn everywhere and he smelled the familiar, distinct scent of dirty diapers. He must have wrinkled his nose.

She did the same. “I didn’t think it would be considerate to toss the diapers into the hallway, so they’re in the trash can. I bundled them up as best as I could.”