The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child. Leanne Banks

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      Bridget shot him a shocked glance. “You’re the most insulting man I’ve ever met.”

      “You clearly haven’t met many residents,” he said wearily. “I apologize if I offended you, but Timothy Bing doesn’t belong in Chantley or wherever you said you’re from.”

      “Chantaine,” she said between gritted teeth. “I will accept your apology if you can direct me to Dr. Gordon Walters. He is the man I must meet.”

      Ryder sighed. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to disappoint you. Dr. Gordon Walters is not here tonight. He hasn’t been working in the position as chief resident adviser for some time. It’s not likely he’ll return.”

      She cocked her head to one side and frowned further. “Then who will take his place?”

      “No one will take his place. Dr. Walters is rightfully loved and respected. I am serving as his temporary successor.”

      Realization crossed her face. “How wonderful,” she said, when she clearly found the news anything but.

      Bloody hell, Bridget thought, clenching her fingers together. Now she’d put herself in a mess. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. Yes, she and Dr. McCall had engaged in a spirited discussion, but surely he would come around once he heard more about Chantaine and the program she was offering.

      “Well, I’m glad I’ve finally found the person who is currently in charge. Our first meeting in the elevator showed that you and I are both responsible, reasonable adults. I’m sure we’ll be able to come to an understanding on this matter,” she said, imbuing her words with every bit of positive energy she could muster.

      Dr. McCall shot her a skeptical glance. “I’ll agree with your first point, but I can’t promise anything on the second. It’s good to see you again, Your Highness.” His gaze gave her a quick sweep from head to toe and back again. “Nice dress. Good evening,” he said and turned to leave.

      It took Bridget an extra second to recover from the understated compliment that inexplicably flustered before she went after him. “Wait, please,” she said.

      Dr. McCall stopped and turned, looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

      “I really do need to discuss Chantaine’s medical needs with you. I’m hoping we can come to some sort of agreement.”

      “I already told you I couldn’t recommend that Timothy Bing spend two years in your country,” he said.

      “But you have other students,” she said. “I’m sure you have students interested in many different areas of medical care. Coming to Chantaine would enable the physicians to get hands-on experience. Plus there’s the matter of the financial assistance we would offer.”

      “I’m sorry, Your High—”

      “Oh, please,” she said, unable to contain her impatience. “Call me Bridget. We’ve sung together in an elevator, for bloody sake.”

      His lips twitched slightly. “True. Bridget, I’m not sure I can help you. Again, my number-one priority is guiding my students to make the best career decisions.”

      Her heart sank. “Well, the least you can do is give me an opportunity to discuss Chantaine’s needs and what we have to offer.”

      He sighed and shrugged his shoulders in a discouraging way, then pulled a card from his pocket. “Okay. Here’s my card. My schedule is very busy, but call my assistant and she’ll work you in.”

      Work her in. Bridget clenched her teeth slightly at the words, but forced a smile. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

      “Hmm,” he said in a noncommittal tone and walked away.

      She barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue at him.

      Raoul appeared by her side. “Are you all right, Your Highness? You look upset.”

      “I do?” she asked, composing herself into what she hoped look like a serene expression. She was finding it more and more difficult to pull off instant serenity these days. “I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve just encountered a slight obstacle to completing my assignment for Chantaine.”

      She watched Ryder McCall’s broad shoulders and tall form as he wove through the crowd. Slight obstacle was putting it mildly, but she’d learned that a positive attitude could get a woman through a lot of tricky spots. “I need to know everything about Dr. Ryder McCall by morning, if not before,” she muttered and glanced around the room. It was amazing what one could learn about a person in a social situation such as this. She might as well make the best of it.

      Ryder walked into his house braced for chaos. His home life had become one big state of chaos bigger than the state of Texas since he’d inherited his brother’s boys. Instead of pandemonium, his home was dark and quiet, except for the sound of a baseball game. Ryder spotted his longtime pal Marshall lounging on the leather couch with a box of half-eaten pizza on the coffee table and a beer in his hand.

      “Your sitter called me,” Marshall said, not rising. “As your official backup. She said one of her kids got sick, so she couldn’t stay. Just curious, where am I on that backup list?”

      Pretty far down, Ryder thought, but didn’t admit it. There were two middle-aged neighbors, an aunt on the other side of town and his admin assistant before Marshall. Ryder suspected he’d called in favors too often if everyone had refused but Marshall. “Thanks for coming. How are the boys?”

      Marshall cracked a wily grin. “Great. Gave them a few Cheerios, wore them out and tossed them into bed.”

      “Bath?” he asked.

      “The sitter took care of that before I got here. That Travis is a pistol. Didn’t want to go to sleep, so I gave him my best Garth Brooks.”

      Ryder gave a tired smile. “Must have worked. I’ll give a quick check and be right back.”

      “Cold one’s waiting,” Marshall said.

      Ryder trusted Marshall to a degree, but he didn’t think leaving the kids with his buddy from high school on a regular basis was a good idea. He wouldn’t put it past Marshall to slip the boys a sip from his beer if he was desperate enough. When pressured, Marshall could get a little too creative, like the time he hot-wired the car of one of the school’s top wrestlers because his own car had died.

      Marshall owned a chain of auto-mechanic shops across Texas. He wore his hair in a ponytail and tattoos were stamped over his arms and back. He hadn’t attended college, but he’d made a success of himself. Most people couldn’t understand their friendship because they appeared to be total opposites, but a mutual appreciation for baseball, some shared holiday dinners which had always included hotdogs and hamburgers and the fact that they both tried to show up during the hard times had made them like family.

      With his brother Cory gone, Marshall was the closest thing to family Ryder had. His gut twisted at the thought, but he shoved the feeling aside and gently opened the door to the nursery. He’d learned to walk with stealthlike quiet during the last month. The possibility of waking the boys made him break into a cold sweat.

      Moving toward the closest СКАЧАТЬ