Pregnant with the Soldier's Son

“Exactly.”

“Especially since we’ve just ‘met.’”

“You’ve got it.”

“I’m sorry for acting unprofessionally, Dr. Walton. It won’t happen again, but from one physician to another, you need your rest. The last thing you want to do is have your blood pressure climb.”

“I’m well aware of that, Dr. Allen, but I have to prove to the chief that I’m worthy of the attending position I earned roughly eight months ago.”

“You’re quite a stubborn and determined woman, aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. “You can’t control everything.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” She made to push past him, but he stuck out his arm, bracing the door shut and blocking the way. “If you don’t mind, Dr. Allen …”

“I do, actually. As a surgeon, yes, take my statement as a compliment. I give you props for that. But as an expectant mother, your stubbornness and ignoring your body’s cues can be detrimental to your baby.”

A blush crept up Ingrid’s neck and blossomed into her cheeks. He was chastising her, though he had no right to since for the first seven months of this pregnancy she’d been doing this on her own, but, then, she’d said he could be involved and apparently he was taking that seriously.

Of course she noticed he hadn’t said “our baby” but “your baby,” and that ticked her off.

“You still don’t think this baby is yours, do you?”

Clint cocked his head. “Give me one reason why I should believe you haven’t had another lover since me.”

Other. Lover?

Her cheeks heated with anger and embarrassment.

“Do you want a paternity test?” she finally managed to ask.

“I do.”

Ingrid nodded. “You’ll have one, but you were my first and only.”

His eyes darkened as his gaze riveted her to the spot. There was an intensity to it that made her blood heat with longing.

She looked away and cleared her throat.

“I know how to take care of myself. I’m a physician as well. I know trauma guys and meatballers like you don’t think much of orthopedic surgeons, but I know how to take care of myself.”

“Look, Ingrid, I don’t mean to lecture you—”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, which had started to ache, and her head was beginning to throb. “It was bad enough that even in this modern day and age I’ve had to live with the stigma of this unexpected pregnancy. Being a doctor to boot doesn’t help with all the ‘Didn’t you use protection?’ comments. I just don’t want the gossipmongers at the hospital suspecting something. I don’t want them to know.”

“They’re bound to find out soon enough. You shouldn’t take all the blame for that faulty birth-control. I didn’t expect the condom to break.”

“Neither did I.” Ingrid sighed. “It was my fault just as much as yours.”

“I know.” Clint smiled.

“You should’ve resisted me.”

Clint snorted. “Right, I’m going to resist a very persistent, hot blonde from taking advantage of me before I went on deployment.” The teasing stopped and he tensed. She wondered what was wrong and when she looked at him, for the first time since they’d bumped into each other again she could see the changes in him.

He’d lost weight and in the dark hair was a bit of gray. The dark circles under his eyes could be from the long shifts, but the stress lines and the way his jaw was clenched spoke of something deeper. A thin scar crossed his cheek under the stubble.

The soldier she’d had that one night-stand with was gone. This Clint was altered and she couldn’t help but wonder what had been responsible for it. Then she recalled he’d been leaving for a long tour of duty, and wouldn’t normally be back this quick and discharged this fast.

Something had happened.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Clint shook his head. “No, there’s nothing wrong. Why would you ask me that?”

Ingrid shrugged. “You seemed to tense up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me, Dr. Walton. I’m fine.” Only it was the way he’d said “I’m fine,” as if he was forcing himself to say it, that made Ingrid think he was lying.

Well, even if he was, she didn’t have time to bandy words with him any longer. She had a job to do.

“I should get back to work.” Ingrid tried to sidestep him but he moved his arm from blocking her path and took a step toward her. Just that simple movement in her direction made Ingrid’s heart beat just a bit faster. He tipped her chin so she was forced to look up at him.

Even though he’d changed, he was as sexy as ever. She’d forgotten just how sexy he was.

Before, when she’d thought back to that one night, she’d almost wondered if she’d over-romanticized him. Boy, had she been wrong. Even stone-cold sober, he made her feel weak at the knees.

It’s the pregnancy hormones. Yes, that had to be it. Now they were making her swoon.

“Please, Clint,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

Only he didn’t move away when she asked him and she was worried he was going to kiss her, And how could she resist him?

Right now she couldn’t, because right now there were so many emotions plaguing her mind she was on the verge of losing control and that was not acceptable. That was not how she had been raised.

“Stop crying. You can’t control what happened. Crying is a sign of weakness. Your mother was emotional and it was because she couldn’t control her emotions that she left us. Do you want to be like that?”

Ingrid shuddered and shook her father’s words from her mind. “Please, Clint. Don’t.”

Clint backed away. “I’m just worried about you, Ingrid. I can’t help it. I’m a doctor.”

Ingrid smiled and sighed. “Don’t worry. Just let me get along as I have been.”

Clint nodded. “Fair enough, but only if you promise me that you’ll take care of yourself and go home a bit early.”

“Fine,” Ingrid said grudgingly.

He grinned, pleased with himself. “Could Ingrid the Harridan actually be stepping down and taking another person’s advice?”

“You’re skating on thin ice, my friend.” She chuckled and moved past him. “Watch your back, Dr. Allen.”

His eyes were glittering in the dim light of the scrub room as she walked back into the hallway. Her back gave another twinge, and even though her feet were hidden in her shoes, she could feel them swelling.

The last thing she wanted to appear was weak, but going home a couple of hours early wasn’t going to ruin her reputation. She pulled off her scrub cap and tossed it in a nearby laundry bag. As much as it pained her to think it, she was going to have to take it easier.

Whether she liked it or not.

Clint had made sure that Ingrid had left that evening. If she’d stayed, he would’ve picked her up and carried her out of the hospital, but he knew that would’ve just angered her even more.

Not that he cared in the slightest.

Being in the army and serving overseas in a war zone, Clint was used to doing as he pleased. Of course, then everyone would know he was the father and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to take on that responsibility. He also knew she didn’t want people to know. He respected and understood her reasons for keeping it quiet.

He’d spent the night in an on-call room, because he didn’t fancy driving all the way back out to his ranch. Tonight, for some reason, he didn’t want to be alone.

With a heavy sigh he sank down on a cot in the dark on-call room. He scrubbed his hand over his face and then lay down. Light from the streetlamps outside filtered through the half-open slats of the blind, casting long shadows across the ceiling. His eyes grew heavy and it was hard to stay awake.

Though he tried.

He tried desperately.

Sleep was when the nightmares returned. Though his body slept physically, he never felt rested when he woke up.

The room was silent for the most part. All he could hear was the hum of traffic from the I-90. It was summer and he tried to picture the cars, RVs and campers rolling across the black tarmac toward the west into Wyoming, or north toward Montana.

Then his pulse thundered in his ears as the steady ebb and flow of traffic and city noises turned to the roar of choppers and explosions.

Sweat broke across his brow. The panic was beginning to set in. There was no way he could stop it or control it. He was drowning and couldn’t surface to breathe.

Then the screaming started and he could feel the muzzle of an automatic weapon at his temple.

A flash of light made him jump from the bed, ready to fight.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there was anyone in here.”

Out of the foggy recesses of his brain, he remembered where he was. He wasn’t back on the front, trying to put together pieces of soldiers like he was doing some kind of horrific and demented jigsaw puzzle. He was still a surgeon, but he was at Rapid City Health Sciences Center.

“Clint, is that you? Are you okay?”

Clint snapped his head up and saw Ingrid standing in the doorway. She was still in her scrubs. There was concern etched across her face.

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be at home, resting. I walked you out.” He’d seen her leave. He’d made sure she’d left.

“Just because you walked me out, it doesn’t mean anything. You’re not my boss.”

Clint tsked under his breath and closed the gap between then and scooped her up in his arms.

Ingrid screeched. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Clint didn’t answer her. He knew exactly what he was doing as he left the on-call room and began to march down the hall toward the exit.

“Clint, are you crazy? You’re half-naked,” she whispered.

Damn.

Clint stopped for a moment and glanced around. A few nurses and orderlies had stopped what they were doing to stare openmouthed. Ingrid moaned and buried her face in his neck. He could see the bloom of color in her cheeks.

Well, the cat was out of the bag and word would spread through the hospital like wildfire about who the father of Dr. Walton’s baby was.

CHAPTER THREE

HOW LONG HAD they been standing in the hallway? Correction, she wasn’t standing at all. She was firmly in the arms of Clint and pressed against his bare, muscular chest. Being so close to him again made her forget for a moment that now everyone would know without a shadow of a doubt who the father of her baby was.

Why else would the hot new trauma doctor be carrying around the pregnant ortho attending he’d just met?

Oh, God. Had she just thought of him as hot again?

Yep, because right now in his arms, her stupid hormones were leaping and bounding, making her crave him like he was a chocolate sundae or a big bowl of chips. Or both mixed together.

And then she realized his chest and back were covered with scars. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, understanding what she was looking at. He was obviously embarrassed by it, so Ingrid decided to change the subject.

“You’re half-naked and as much as I appreciate your very ripped physique, could you please put me down and we’ll find somewhere private to talk.”

Clint chuckled. “You think I’m ripped?”

“Come on. I’m serious, put me down. Now.” She squirmed, trying to force the issue. She needed to put some distance between them.

Clint set her down and she could hear the snickers of their audience. Ingrid kept her head down and hustled back into the on-call room, pacing until Clint followed her in and shut the door.

“So much for our secret,” he said.

“You think?” Her shoulder tingled from where she’d been pressed up against his body. “What did you think you were doing?”

“No, no. I’m not the one answering questions. You need to tell me why you’re back when you should be at home, resting.”

“My patient developed an infection in her leg. I have to monitor it.”

Clint cocked an eyebrow. “You’re an orthopedic surgeon—can’t the general surgeon on duty monitor your patient?”

“It’s my patient.”

“And that’s a baby you’re carrying. You should be home, getting rest.”

Damn. There was no arguing that the moment he’d said “home” and “rest,” a wave of exhaustion hit her. The room began to spin and she lifted her hand to her head to stave off a wave of dizziness that was threatening to overtake her.

“You need to sit down.” She felt Clint’s hand on her shoulder as he forced her to sit down on the cot.

“Thanks,” Ingrid murmured. “I’m not this careless. I know I need to rest more.”

“I know. You’re a surgeon, an attending. You told me. You have drive and that’s a hard thing to let go of.”

Ingrid nodded. “It is.”

She glanced over at Clint and couldn’t help but smile. There was a flutter in her belly and it wasn’t the baby kicking. It was the same feeling she’d got when she’d seen him seven months ago in that bar. Even though she’d been under the influence of Philomena’s urging and a couple of cosmos, she was still able to recall the way he’d made her body hunger.

Those deep blue eyes, which could be so intense and dark with passion. Each caress from his strong hands, the way his fingers had trailed down her spine, her legs wrapped around his waist, his lips against her neck as they’d moved as one made her want it again.

Over and over.

She shook her head, trying to expel those memories from her mind, but she doubted that would ever happen. They were permanently etched in her mind. When she looked down at the baby she was carrying, she’d be forever reminded of their time together.

Now he was a colleague and she didn’t want to date someone at work. She didn’t want there to be any more gossip than there already was.

She wasn’t going to raise a child in a loveless marriage. One that would drive him away and cause him to abandon her child, like her mother had done to her.

Other than an explosive physical connection with Clint, she didn’t know him. He was a stranger.

“I’d better go.” Ingrid wanted to put distance between the two of them. She ran her fingers through her hair, trying to distract him from the blush that burned her cheeks.

“That’s a good idea.”

Ingrid stood, but as she did so her belly tightened and a horrible cramp struck her. She cried out and doubled over as she sat back down on the mattress. It was hard to catch her breath, everything felt pressurized, like she was going to explode.

“Ingrid, are you okay?”

“Braxton … Hicks … contraction.” The words came out in a staccato succession as she tried to breathe. She closed her eyes and tried to work her way through it, but she couldn’t remember her breathing technique. It was too hard to focus and she was so uncomfortable.

Oh. God. If this was just a practice contraction, how was she going to get through the real thing?

It terrified her.

This was unknown.

Yes, she was a doctor and understood how the human body worked, but she was a human. A woman. One who was alone.

I don’t want to be alone. And her weakness made her mad at herself.

“Just breathe.” Clint’s voice was calming as she worked her way through more contraction. When they had passed she glanced at up at him and noticed the dark circles under his eyes. He looked haggard. Even worse than when she’d seen him before.

“Are you okay now?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders.

“I’m good, but you’re looking pretty tired yourself.” She reached out and touched his face.

“Well, I was sleeping until someone came barging in and turned on the lights.”

“Sorry.” Ingrid stood with Clint. “I honestly didn’t think anyone was in here. I’ll go home. What’re you doing?”

Clint pulled on his shirt. “Going home with you.”

“Pardon?”

“The only way I’m going to make sure you’ll stay at home is if I take you there myself.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Clint chuckled. “It’s not a case of me being a nice guy. It’s a case of having to get you there so that I know you’re safely tucked into bed. Give me your keys, I’ll drive.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “And if you’re going to drive me in my car, how do you plan to get back here?”

“Taxi. I think I can splurge on a cab.” Clint held out his hand. “Now, hand over your keys.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Don’t make me pick you up and carry you out of here.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

Clint grinned in a way that made Ingrid think she shouldn’t push him. “Wouldn’t I?”

She rolled her eyes and handed him her keys. He was a persistent guy, she’d give him that, but of course she wouldn’t expect anything less from a trauma attending and former soldier.

This time when they walked out of the on-call room, she wasn’t in his arms, but the eyes of everyone were still on them. She kept her head held high as if she had nothing to hide, but could still feel their curious gazes boring into the back of her neck.

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