Pregnant with the Soldier's Son

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“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.