Pregnant with the Soldier's Son. Amy Ruttan
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