Читать книгу The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child - Leanne Banks - Страница 12

Two days later, Bridget’s cell phone rang and her heart went pitter-patter at the number on the caller ID. “Hello,” she said in a cool voice.

“Hello to you, Your Highness. How are you?” Ryder asked.

“I’m actually getting ready to make an appearance for a children’s art program in Dallas,” she said, smiling at the people who were waiting for her.

“Okay, I’ll make this quick. Are you free tonight?”

She rolled her eyes. The man clearly had no idea how many demands were placed on her once people got word she was in the area. “I’m not often free but can sometimes make adjustments. What did you have in mind?”

“Swimming,” he said.

“Excuse me?” she said.

“Swimming with the twins and pizza,” he said.

“The pizza had better be fabulous. Ciao,” she said and disconnected the call, but she felt a crazy surge of happiness zing through her as she followed the museum representatives inside the room where the children and press awaited.

Bridget gave a brief speech about the importance of art at all levels of society and dipped her hands and feet in purple paint. She stepped on a white sheet of paper, then pressed her handprints above and finished with her autograph.

The crowd applauded and she was technically done, but she stayed longer to talk to the children as they painted and worked on various projects. Their warmth and responsiveness made her feel less jaded, somehow less weary. Who would have thought it possible?

After extensive rearrangements of her schedule, Bridget put on her swimsuit and had second thoughts. What had possessed her to agree to join Ryder for a swim class when she was in a nearly naked state? She didn’t have a perfectly slim body. In fact, if honest, she was curvy with pouches. Her bum was definitely larger than her top.

Her stomach clenched. Oh, bloody hell, she might as well be thirteen years old again. Forget it, she told herself. It wasn’t as if anything could happen. She and Ryder would have two six-month-old chaperones.

Within forty-five minutes, she and Ryder stood in a pool with Tyler and Travis. Tyler stuck to her like glue, his eyes wide and fearful. “It’s okay,” she coaxed, bobbing gently in the water.

Ryder held Travis, who was screaming bloody murder.

“Are we having fun yet?” he asked, holding his godson securely.

“Should we sing?” she asked, trying not to be distracted by Ryder’s broad shoulders and well-muscled arms and chest. For bloody’s sake, when did the man have time to work out?

“They would throw us out,” he said. “You look good in water.”

She felt a rush of pleasure. “Thank you. Is Travis turning purple?”

“I think it’s called rage,” he said.

“Would you like to switch off for a moment?”

“Are you sure?” he asked doubtfully.

She nodded. “Let me give him a go,” she said.

Tyler protested briefly at the exchange, then attached himself to Ryder. Travis continued to scream, so she lowered her mouth to his ear and began to quietly sing a lullaby from her childhood. Travis cried, but the sound grew less intense. She kept singing and he made sad little yelps, then finally quieted.

“Aren’t you the magic one?” Ryder said.

“Luck,” she said and cooed at the baby, swirling him around in the water. “Doesn’t this feel good?” she murmured.

By the end of class, they’d switched off again and Travis was cackling and shrieking with joy as he splashed and kicked and Ryder whirled him around in the water.

As soon as they stepped from the pool, they wrapped the boys in snuggly towels. Ryder rubbed Travis’s arms. She did the same with Tyler and he smiled at her. Her heart swelled at his sweetness. “You are such a good boy. Isn’t he?” she said to Ryder.

“You bet,” Ryder said and pressed his mouth against Tyler’s chubby cheek, making a buzzing sound. Tyler chortled with joy.

“That sound is magic,” she said.

Ryder nodded as he continued to rub Travis. “Yeah, it is.” His glance raked her from head to toe and he shook his head. “You look pretty damn good.”

Bridget felt a warmth spread from her belly to her chest and face, down her legs, all the way to her toes. “It’s just been a long time for you,” she said and turned away to put some clothes on Tyler.

A second later, she felt Ryder’s bare chest against her back. An immediate visceral response rocked through her and she was torn between jumping out of her skin and melting. “Yeah, it has,” he said. “But that shouldn’t make you so damn different from every other woman I’ve met.”

Her stomach dipped. “Stop flattering me,” she said. “Get your baby dressed. You don’t want him chilled.”

After pizza and a raucous bath time, Ryder and Bridget rocked the babies and put them to bed. Ryder would have preferred to usher Bridget into his bed and reacquaint himself with the curves he’d glimpsed in the pool, but he would have to bide his time. Hopefully not too long, he told himself as his gaze strayed to the way her hips moved in her cotton skirt. He’d thought he was so smart getting her out of most of her clothes by inviting her to the baby swimming class. Now he would live with those images all night long.

“Wine?” he asked, lifting a bottle from the kitchen before he joined her in the den.

She had sunk onto the sofa and leaned her head back against it, unintentionally giving him yet another seductive photo for his mental collection. One silky leg crossed over the other while the skirt hugged her hips. The V-neck of her black shirt gave him just a glimpse of creamy cleavage. For once, her lips were bare, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to kiss her.

Her eyes opened to slight slits shrouded with the dark fan of her eyelashes. “One glass,” she said. “I think everyone will sleep well tonight.”

Speak for yourself, he thought wryly and poured her wine. He allowed himself one glass because he wasn’t on call.

“It’s amazing how much they can scream, isn’t it?” she said as he sat beside her.

“They save up energy lying around all the time. It’s not like they can play football or baseball yet.”

“Have you thought about which sport you’ll want them to pursue?” she asked.

“Whatever keeps them busy and tired. If they’re busy and tired, they won’t be as likely to get into trouble,” he said.

“So that’s the secret,” she said with a slow smile. “Did that work for you?”

“Most of the time. I learned at a young age that I wanted a different life than the life my parents had.”

“Hmm, at least you knew your parents,” she said.

“Can’t say knowing my father was one of my strong points.”

“Well, you know what they say, if you can’t be a good example, be a terrible warning.”

He chuckled slightly and relaxed next to her. “I don’t want to be the same kind of father he was. Drunk. Neglectful. Bordering on abusive.”

“You couldn’t be those things,” she said.

“Why not? You’ve heard the saying, an apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“You’ve already fallen a long way from that so-called tree,” she said. “Plus, you may be fighting some of your feelings, but you love those boys.” She lifted her hand to his jaw. “You have a good heart. I liked that about you from the first time I met you.”

“And I thought it was my singing voice,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers, reveling in the anticipation he felt inside and saw in her eyes.

She tasted like a delicious combination of red wine, tiramisu and something forbidden that he wasn’t going to resist. Ryder was certain he could resist her if he wanted. If there was one thing Ryder possessed, it was self-discipline. The quality had been necessary to get him through med school, residency and even more so now in his position at the hospital and with the twins.

For now, though, Ryder had decided he didn’t want to resist Bridget. With her lush breasts pressing against his chest, discipline was the last thing on his mind. She was so voluptuously female from her deceptively airy attitude to her curvy body. He slid one of his hands through her hair as she wiggled against him.

A groan of pleasure and want rose from his throat as she deepened the kiss, drawing his tongue into her mouth. The move echoed what he wanted to be doing with the rest of his body and hers. He wrapped his hands around her waist. He slid one down to her hips and the other upward to just under her breast.

He was so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe. She was so soft, so feminine, so hot. With every beat of his heart, he craved her. He wanted to consume her, to slide inside her….

Ryder slid his hand to her breast, cupping its fullness. Her nipple peaked against his palm. The fire inside him rising, he tugged a few buttons of her blouse loose and slipped his hand under her bra, touching her bare skin, which made him want to touch every inch of her. He couldn’t remember wanting to inhale a woman before.

The next natural step would be to remove her clothes and his and after that, caress her with his hands and mouth. After that, he wanted to slide inside her … She would be so hot, so wet….

All he wanted was to be as close to her as humanly possible.

From some peripheral area of his brain, he heard a knock and then another. Her body and soul called to him. He took her mouth in another deep kiss.

Another knock sounded, this time louder, but Ryder was determined to ignore it.

Suddenly his front door opened and Marshall burst into the room.

“Whoa,” Marshall said. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Ryder felt Bridget pull back and hastily arrange her shirt. “Who—” she said in a breathless voice.

“My best friend from high school, Marshall,” Ryder said. “He has a key,” he continued in a dark voice.

Marshall lifted his hands. “Hey, I called and you didn’t answer. I started getting worried. You almost always answer at night. We’ve had a beer three times during the last week.” His friend stared at Bridget and gave a low whistle. “And who do we have here?”

Irritated, Ryder scowled. “Show a little respect. Prin—” He stopped when Bridget pinched his arm. Staring at her in disbelief, he could see that she didn’t want him to reveal her title. “Bridget Devereaux, this is Marshall Bailey.”

His friend moved forward and extended his hand. Bridget stood and accepted the courtesy.

“Nice to meet you, Bridget,” Marshall said. “It’s a relief to see Ryder with a woman.”

Embarrassment slammed through Ryder and he also stood. “Marshall,” he said in a warning tone.

“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. The poor guy hasn’t had much company except me and the twins.” Marshall cleared his throat. “How did you two meet anyway?”

“Okay, enough, Mr. Busybody. As you can see, I’m fine, so you can leave.”

“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” Bridget said and glanced at her watch. “I really should be leaving. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

“Where?” Ryder asked.

“Chicago. They have a teaching hospital. I’ll be meeting with the hospital chief to present the proposal for Chantaine’s medical exchange.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised at the gut punch of disappointment he felt when he should feel relieved. “I guess this means you’ve given up on our residents.”

“No, but you haven’t been at all receptive. My brother Stefan has instructed me to explore other possibilities. Your program was our first choice due to the quality of your residents and also the fact that you have so many family doctors and prevention specialists. But because you’re unwilling to help …”

“For Pete’s sake, Ryder, help the woman out,” Marshall said and moved forward. “Is there anything I can do?”

Marshall was really getting on Ryder’s nerves. “Not unless you have a medical degree and are licensed to practice,” Ryder said.

“I believe my driver is here. Thank you for an action-packed evening,” she said with a smile full of sexy amusement.

Ryder would have preferred a different kind of action. “I’ll walk you to the car,” he said, then shot a quick glance at Marshall. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Ryder escorted Bridget to the limo waiting at the curb. A man stood ready to open the door for her. Ryder was disappointed as hell that she was headed out of town. Stupid. “So how long will you be gone?” he asked.

She lifted a dark eyebrow and her lips tilted in a teasing grin. “Are you going to miss me, Dr. McCall?”

His gut twisted. “That would be crazy. The only thing I’ve been missing for the last month is sleep,” he lied.

“Oh, well, maybe you’ll get lucky and get some extra sleep while I’m gone. Ta-ta,” she said and turned toward the limo.

He caught her wrist and drew her back against him. The man at the car door took a step toward them, but she waved her hand. “Not necessary, Raoul.”

“You must enjoy tormenting me,” he said.

“Me?” she said, her blue eyes wide with innocence. “How could I possibly have the ability to torment you?”

“I don’t know, but you sure as hell do,” he muttered and kissed her, which only served to make him hotter. He turned her own words on her. “So, Your Highness, what are you going to do about it?”

She gave a sharp intake of breath and her eyes darkened as if her mind were working the same way as his. She bit her lip. “I can call you when I return from Chicago.”

“Do that,” he said.

Ryder returned to his house to find Marshall lounging on the sofa and drinking a glass of red wine. “This isn’t bad,” he said.

“Glad you like it. In the future, give me a call before you drop in. Okay?”

Marshall looked injured. “I did call you. You just didn’t answer.” He shook his head and gave a low whistle. “And now I understand why. That’s one hot babe, and she reeks money. A limo came to pick her up? You sure know how to pick ‘em. How did you meet her?”

“In an elevator,” Ryder said, not wanting to give away too many details. As much as he liked his old friend, Ryder knew Marshall could gossip worse than an old lady.

“Really?” Marshall said, dumbfounded. “An elevator. Was it just you and her? Did you do anything—adventurous?”

“Not the way you’re thinking,” Ryder said in a dry tone, although if it had been just him and Bridget in that elevator without the twins, his mind would have gone in the same direction.

“Well, I’m glad you’re finally getting some action,” Marshall said.

Ryder swore. “I’d say you pretty much nixed that tonight. Between you and the twins, who needs birth control?”

Marshall chuckled. “Sorry, bud, better luck next time. I thought I’d see if Suzanne was hanging around tonight. She stays late for you sometimes.”

Realization struck Ryder. “You didn’t come by to see me. You came to see my nanny. I’m telling you now. Keep your hands off my nanny. She’s not your type.”

“Who says?”

“I say.”

“Why isn’t she my type? She’s pretty. She’s nice,” he said.

“She’s six years older than you are,” Ryder said.

“So? She doesn’t look it. She’s got a fresh look about her and she’s sweet. Got a real nice laugh,” Marshall said.

“I’m not liking what I’m hearing,” Ryder said, stepping between Marshall and the television. “So far, Suzanne is the perfect nanny. I don’t want you messing with her. The boys and I need her.”

“She’s an adult. She can decide if she wants me to mess with her,” he said with a shrug.

“Marshall,” he said in a dead-serious voice. “She’s not like your dime-a-dozen girls running fast and loose. She’s not used to a guy like you who’ll get her in the sack and leave her like yesterday’s garbage.”

Marshall winced. “No need to insult me. I’ve had a few long-term relationships.”

“Name them,” Ryder challenged.

“Well, there was that redhead, Wendy. She and I saw each other for at least a couple of years.”

“She lived out of town, didn’t she?” Ryder asked. “How many other women were you seeing at the same time?”

Marshall scowled. “Okay, what about Sharona? We lived together.”

“For how long?”

“Seven weeks, but—”

“Enough said. Keep your paws off Suzanne.”

Marshall slugged down the rest of the wine and stood. “You know, I’m not a rotten guy.”

“Never said you were.”

“I just haven’t ever found the right girl,” Marshall said.

“As long as you and I understand that Suzanne is not the right girl for you, everything will be fine.”

Three days later, Bridget returned from her trip to Chicago. She hadn’t snagged any doctors, but she’d persuaded one of the specialists she’d met to visit Chantaine and offer lectures and demonstrations. She was getting closer to her goal. She could feel it. Even though what she really wanted to do tonight was soak in a tub and watch television, she was committed to attend a charity event for Alzheimer’s with the governor’s son, who was actually quite a bit older than she was. Part of the job, she told herself as she got ready. She thought about calling Ryder, but every time she thought about him, she felt a jumpiness in her stomach. Bridget wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with him because she knew she would be leaving Dallas as soon as she accomplished her mission.

There was something about the combination of his strength and passion that did things to her. It was exciting. And perplexing.

Preferring to have her own chauffeur, Bridget met Robert Goodwin, the governor’s son, in the lobby of her hotel. He was a distinguished-looking man in his mid-forties who reminded her of one of her uncles. She decided that was how she would treat him.

Her bodyguard Raoul, who occasionally played double duty in making introductions, stepped forward. “Your Highness, Robert Goodwin.”

She nodded and extended her hand. “Lovely to meet you, Mr. Goodwin. Thank you for escorting me to an event that will raise awareness for such an important cause.”

“My pleasure, Your Highness,” he said, surprising her when he brought her hand to his mouth. “Please call me Robert. May I say that you look breathtaking?”

“Thank you very much, Robert. Shall we go?”

By the time they arrived at the historical hall, Bridget concluded that Mr. Goodwin’s intentions were not at all uncle-like and she prepared herself for a sticky evening. Cameras flashed as they exited the limo and Mr. Goodwin appeared to want to linger for every possible photo as he bragged about her title to the reporters.

“Everyone is excited to have a real princess at the event tonight. People paid big bucks to sit at our table.”

“I’m delighted I could help the cause.” Sometimes it amazed her that a single spermatozoa had determined her status. And that spermatozoa had originated from a cheating jerk of a man who had never gotten her first name right. Her father.

“Would you join me in a dance?” Robert said, his gaze dipping to her cleavage.

“Thank you, but I need to powder my nose,” she said. “Can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”

Robert blinked. “I believe it’s down the hall to the left.”

“Excuse me,” she said and headed for the restroom, fully aware that Raoul was watching. She wondered if she could plead illness. After stalling for several moments, she left and slowly walked toward her table. Halfway there, Ryder stepped in front of her.

“Busy as ever,” he said.

Her heart raced at the sight of him. “So true. I arrived back in town this afternoon and had to turn right around to get ready for this event.”

“With the governor’s son,” Ryder said, clearly displeased.

“He could be my uncle,” she said.

“Bet that’s not what he’s thinking,” Ryder countered.

She grimaced and shrugged. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to manage unwelcome interest, and if my appearance generates additional income for this good cause …”

“True,” he said, his eyes holding a misery that grabbed at her.

“What brings you here?”

“Dr. Walters. He has had an impact on hundreds of doctors, but now he can’t recognize himself in the mirror.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her heart hurting at the expression on his face. “Seeing you, hearing you, makes me glad I came. I’m ashamed to confess that I was tempted to cancel because I was so tired after returning from Chicago.”

His gaze held hers for a long emotional moment. “I’m glad you didn’t give in to your weariness this time.”

“Even though I have to face Mr. Anything-but-Good Robert Goodwin,” she said.

“Give me a sign and I’ll have your back,” he said.

She took a deep breath. “That’s good to know. I can usually handle things. This isn’t the first time.”

His gaze swept over her from head to toe and back again. “That’s no surprise.”

Her stomach dipped and she cleared her throat. “I should get back to my table. I’m told people paid to sit with me. I’m sure it has nothing to do with my title.”

His lips twitched. “Not if they really knew you,” he said.

“You flatter me,” she said.

“Not because you’re a princess,” he said.

“Call me tomorrow.”

“I will,” he said.

Bridget returned to her table and tried to be her most charming self and at the same time not encouraging Robert Goodwin. It was challenging, but she was determined.

After the meal had been served, he turned to her. “I’m determined to dance with you.”

“I’m not that good of a dancer,” she assured him.

He laughed, his gaze dipping over her cleavage again. “I’m a good leader,” he said and rose, extending his hand to her. “Let me surprise you.”

Or not, she thought wishing with all her heart that he wouldn’t surprise her. She didn’t want to embarrass the man. She lifted her lips in a careful smile. “One dance,” she said and stood.

They danced to a waltz, but he somehow managed to rub against her. She tried to back away, but he wrapped his hands around her waist like a vise, drawing him against her. Suddenly, she saw Ryder behind Robert Goodwin, his hand on his shoulder. Robert appeared surprised.

“Can I cut in?” Ryder asked.

Robert frowned. “I’m not—”

“Yes,” Bridget said. “It’s only proper.”

Robert reluctantly released her and Ryder swept her into his arms.

“Thank goodness,” she murmured.

He wrapped his arms around her and it felt entirely different than it had with Robert. She stared into his eyes and felt a shockwave roll through her. “When did you learn to dance?”

“A generous woman taught me during medical school,” he said, drawing her closer, yet not too close.

Bridget felt a spike of envy but forced it aside. “She did an excellent job.”

He chuckled. “It was all preparation,” he said. “Everything we do is preparation for what waits for us in the future.”

“I would have to be quite arrogant to think your preparation was for me,” she said, feeling light-headed.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, clearly changing the subject. “I hate having to share you with anyone else.”

Her stomach dipped. “It’s part of who I was born to be. Duty calls,” she said.

“But what does Bridget want?” he challenged. “Meet me in the foyer in fifteen minutes.”

“How?” she asked.

“You’ll figure it out,” he said.