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“Seven months.”
“I thought you were on birth control?”
“No, but don’t you recall that night at all? I think you forget the condom you used was a bit ‘faulty.’” She made quote signs with her fingers, trying to ram it in how she felt about the whole debacle. “Don’t you remember what happened when you discovered that?”
Clint let out a string of curses under his breath. “Yeah, I think I mentally blocked that part out.”
“I tried to as well, until the stick turned blue.”
Clint dragged his hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?” she asked, her frustration rising. “Oh, no, I think I might get pregnant in a month.”
“About the pregnancy. You could’ve told me when you found out.” Clint began to pace. “I had the right to know.”
“Right, and how was I supposed to do that when I didn’t even know your last name or what base you were stationed at? Was I supposed to contact the nearest army base and say, ‘Yeah, I’d like to talk to the hot guy named Clint with the blue, blue eyes who had sex about a month ago with a short blonde woman and who is shipping out for an extensive tour of duty somewhere overseas.’ I bet there’s only one of you who fits that description. If I’d had a way to contact you, I would’ve.”
Clint obviously didn’t have much of a sense of humor, because he still looked a bit dazed. “Of course.”
She’d been the same when that pregnancy test had come up positive. Kids had never been part of the plan, but she couldn’t get rid of the child. That would have been taking the easy way out. Besides, like her father had taught her, she didn’t run away from her mistakes.
Of course, now she wanted her baby more than anything, but her life, which had been so organized and efficient before, had been turned topsy-turvy. When she was home alone in her cluttered room, staring at the piles of baby stuff overtaking her clean, orderly existence, she was terrified. Motherhood was an unknown and beyond her control.
Ingrid sighed. “Look, I could’ve gotten rid of the baby, but I wanted it. I still want it and I plan to raise the baby on my own. I don’t expect anything from you.”
“Like hell.” Clint’s stance relaxed and his expression softened, the prominent frown lines disappearing. “I’ll help the best I can. I owe you that much.”
“Well, thank you, Dr. Allen.”
“Clint.”
She sighed. “Clint, but you really don’t have to.”
“I have to,” he said earnestly. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“You’re under no obligation. I’m giving you an out.”
“No.”
Though he was an unnecessary complication in her already chaotic life, she was secretly relieved and a little deep-down voice said that maybe she wouldn’t have to do this alone.
It’s the hormones. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.
She wanted to push him away, it would be easier, but Ingrid knew he had every legal right to his child. There was no way she’d be able to deny him access and, honestly, she didn’t want that. She’d grown up in a broken home, her father refusing to answer any questions about her mother or even telling Ingrid how to find her.
“She left us for another man, Ingrid. She doesn’t deserve you.”
The tone, the hate in her father’s voice still sent shivers down her spine. She had grown up without a maternal figure in her life, but since her mother had never come back or tried to make contact, Ingrid was inclined to believe her father that she had been unwanted. Denying or not telling her baby who or where their father was wasn’t an option for Ingrid. This was not how she wanted to raise a family, ever.
Of course she’d never wanted a family. There was no way she’d risk her heart, only to be abandoned later on.
For most of her life, Ingrid had learned that life never ran smoothly and you had to swim to keep up.
Fate had decided to throw her a curveball in the form of defective birth-control and a hot one-night stand, and she would accept the consequences and do the best she could by her child. If the child’s father wanted to be involved in the child’s life, she wasn’t going to deny him.
“Thank you. I appreciate that. Most men wouldn’t.”
Clint nodded. “I know they wouldn’t, but that’s not me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know that. We barely know each other.”
He grinned, finally relaxing. “I know, but I thought about you often when I was overseas.”
“I don’t know if that should flatter me or kind of freak me out.”
Clint laughed. “Be flattered. You made an impression on me. I wanted to get to know you a bit better, but you left before I woke up.”
Ingrid blushed. “I know. I’m sorry, but I was embarrassed. As I said, you were my first and I just couldn’t face you in the morning. When I found out I was pregnant, though, I was kicking myself for not trying to get any more information from you.”
“I bet.” His pager buzzed and he glanced down at it. “Mr. McGowan is back from Radiology and the X-rays are ready. I’d better go.”
“And I’d better check those films out so you can get him discharged.” She reached into the pocket of her lab coat and handed him her business card. “Here’s my info. Call me and we’ll figure some stuff out.”
He didn’t look at the card, just stuffed it into his pocket. “I will.”
“Sure.” Ingrid turned and walked away. By his reaction she really doubted he would get in touch with her. Why should he? It had been a one-night stand.
He may have said that he wanted to help, but she didn’t know him. She didn’t trust him and she was pretty sure he didn’t trust her either.
No promises had been made.
And that was fine by her.
Clint watched her walk down the hallway, her blond hair pulled back into a braided bun. From behind you couldn’t even tell she was pregnant. From the back she looked like that beautiful woman in the bar who’d seduced him on his last night before he’d been shipped overseas. One he’d thought about every night when he’d been imprisoned. That stolen moment in time had been what had helped him stay sane.
He’d never, ever expected to see her again.
She’s having my baby.
Only was she? She’d lied about her name. Yeah, he may have been her first, but had he been her last? What if there had been another man after him?
You saw her face when she saw you. The condom broke. It’s yours.
Though he didn’t want to believe he was a father, something in his gut told him that the baby was his. Though he’d get a paternity test when the baby was born to make sure.
You’re a jerk.
He cursed under his breath. He used to be honorable, trusting. What the hell had happened to him?
Clint leaned against the doorjamb as the thought began to sink in. He was going to be a father. It frightened him.
How could he be a good father when he wasn’t even sure where his own life was headed at the moment? When he’d come back early from his tour of duty in the Afghanistan, he’d been honorably discharged with post-traumatic stress disorder. Once he’d stabilized after a couple of months, he’d taken this job at Rapid City Health Sciences Center as a trauma surgeon.
At one time he’d loved medicine. Now not so much. Not after the horrors of war. But other than being a soldier there was nothing he was skilled at. Nothing he could do, and he needed the money if he wanted to make his dream come true, which was getting the old dilapidated cattle ranch he’d bought just before he’d left up and running again.
He’d only planned on staying until it was paid off and he had enough money to get his quota of cattle ready.
Now with this baby, that dream seemed impossible.
I can’t be a father.
If the paternity test proved he was indeed the father, he was going to do the right thing by Ingrid. He was going to help her out; at least financially he wasn’t going to leave her in the lurch.
He’d never do that. He had been raised properly. Clint wasn’t sure about the rest, about being involved in the child’s life and about being close to Ingrid again.
Emotionally he wasn’t there for that.
He was numb inside.
Dead.
Just a walking ghost of himself.
Or at least he thought so.
What he hadn’t expected had been the rush of intense emotions that had struck him the moment he’d seen her again. All those memories of their night together had flooded him, like he was being swept away in a strong current. Each touch, each caress was ingrained in his mind and burned in his flesh.
It was those memories of their night together that he’d clung to during endless hours of working in surgery in the middle of a war zone.
Clint closed his eyes and took some deep breaths to keep the horror of his time overseas at bay. The last thing he needed was for another flashback to overtake him.
He was new here and he didn’t want to be thought of as a liability.
When his pulse returned to normal he looked up and caught a last glimpse of Ingrid at the end of the hallway before she turned down another corridor.
Clint turned back to head into his patient’s room and write up a script for analgesics, but he couldn’t help but look back to where she’d disappeared.
He couldn’t believe that he’d ended up at the same hospital as her.
Ingrid had been his nameless salvation. He wondered how much worse his mental state would’ve been had he not had that respite in the storm.
“Dr. Clint Allen to the E.R., please. Dr. Clint Allen to the E.R.”
Clint shook his head, chasing away those dark thoughts. Although a child hadn’t been part of his plans, especially one with a woman he barely knew, he was going to do right by Ingrid and support her financially as much as he could.
As for being an involved father?
What kind of father figure could he be to a child, as messed up as he was?
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a93bc213-e8a8-564d-a247-a81c6f2c0304)
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.
