Читать книгу Pregnant with the Soldier's Son - Amy Ruttan, Amy Ruttan - Страница 10

INGRID STRETCHED HER back. A knot was forming between her shoulder blades. It’d been a long shift, but thankfully it was almost over. She hated the night shift, especially now, but it was her turn on rotation and she had to do her duty.

To prove to the chief of surgery, Dr. Ward, and the board that she was worthy still of her promotion. Even though the first thing she’d done after said promotion had been to get pregnant.

She’d hid it for as long as she could, but when she had suffered for so long from extreme morning sickness and had needed to go on medication, she’d had to tell Dr. Ward that his new ortho attending was pregnant.

Dr. Ward hadn’t been overly pleased, but he hadn’t been able to fire her. That would’ve been a human resources nightmare, but she wasn’t going to ride on that easy train. That wasn’t her. So instead she worked just as hard as she had before she’d got pregnant, to prove to everyone she was in control. That she was capable of being a good surgeon still, that he and the board of directors at the hospital wouldn’t regret their decision.

So even though she put on a brave face and seemed strong, she couldn’t wait to go home and take a nice long, hot shower and climb into bed. Though she highly doubted sleep would come easily to her. Even feeling extremely exhausted, she knew her mind would be focused on one individual.

Dr. Clint Allen.

She hadn’t seen him since near the beginning of her shift, after she’d discharged Mr. McGowan. After the discharge the E.R. had been flooded with trauma cases from a large accident on the interstate and Clint had disappeared into the thick of it.

As she had. A shattered femur had required her utmost attention and she’d spent the last several hours in surgery, trying to repair the damage from the twisted metal and carnage from the highway.

So much damage caused in a split second.

A twinge of pain knotted in her shoulder again and Ingrid winced, bracing her back. Oh, yes, she was looking forward to getting back home.

When she looked up she caught sight of a woman watching her, something familiar jogged at the corner of her mind. She took a step forward to get a better look but someone stepped between them, and when she looked again, the woman who had been watching her was gone.

Ingrid shrugged it off. It was probably just a worried loved one, wondering how a patient from the accident was doing, and she probably thought the pregnant surgeon would be easier to pin down and ask questions of than another surgeon.

She’d probably found someone closer and was talking to them.

Which was good, because Ingrid was too tired to form coherent words at the moment.

“You looked exhausted. I think you should maybe sit down or call it a night.” The words were whispered in her ear as a man leaned over.

Ingrid glanced at him and saw Clint standing next to her, his dark hair under a scrub cap as he wrote notes in a file attached to a clipboard.

“Dr. Allen,” Ingrid greeted him.

“Seriously, you look tired.” There was concern in those blue eyes.

“I am, but my shift isn’t over for another couple of hours.”

He frowned. “Do you want me to speak to the chief of surgery?”

“No, I don’t want you to speak to Dr. Ward,” Ingrid snapped. That was the last thing she wanted anyone to do. “I can work the last two hours of my shift. I’m not an invalid.”

“I never said you were an invalid, but you’re pregnant and tired.”

Ingrid was going to tell him to mind his own damn business, but the moment she looked up she could see the surgical nurses, residents and whoever else was in earshot were staring at the two of them with looks of confusion.

The last thing she wanted was the rumor mill to start.

It was bad enough everyone knew that she’d got knocked up because of a one-night stand, but the last thing she wanted them to know was that Dr. Allen had been the one to do it.

She glared at those who were still brave enough to stare, one of those cold, calculating looks she was apparently so well-known for.

Most pregnant women had fits of tears. Her emotional trigger was anger and when it happened she turned into a bit of a dragon.

Ingrid needed to regain control over this situation, and fast.

“Dr. Allen, may I have a word with you? Privately.” She turned on her heel and headed to an empty scrub room. When the scrub-room door closed behind him she crossed her arms over her belly and set the gaze of fury on Clint.

He took a step back, but mirth twitched at his lips. “There’s good reason why they call you Ingrid the Harridan.”

“Who calls me that?”

“The interns,” Clint said offhandedly. “Of course, you set bones for a living. I wouldn’t expect anything less from such a young ortho attending as you. You have to be tough.”

Ingrid rolled her eyes and eased her stance. “Yes, so you know why I asked you to come in here.”

“This sounds like an official summons.”

“It is.”

Clint furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Well, I can’t say that I do.”

“Getting pregnant right after one accepts an attending position is really bad form. Especially when one got pregnant during a one-night stand. I don’t want any special treatment, Dr. Allen. I also don’t want the other staff members to know my business.”

“Oh, I get it. The new trauma surgeon is showing a little bit too much interest in the ortho attending’s pregnancy.”

“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.