The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child: The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child

Ryder was suffering from the same deprivation albeit for different reasons. He wondered why she was here tonight. Might as well cure his curiosity, he thought, if he couldn’t cure his other deprivations. He walked toward the two of them.

Timothy only had eyes for Her Highness. Ryder cleared his throat. Both Timothy and the woman turned to look at him.

Timothy stiffened as if he were a marine and he’d just glimpsed a superior. Ryder almost wondered if he would salute. “Dr. McCall,” he said.

Bridget looked at him curiously. “Doctor?” she echoed. “I didn’t know you were a doctor.”

“We didn’t have much time to discuss our occupations. Your Highness,” he added.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Timothy’s eyes bulge in surprise. “Highness,” he said. “Are you a queen or something? I thought you said you were a representative of Chantaine.”

Bridget shot Ryder a glare, then smiled sweetly at Timothy. “I am a representative of Chantaine. A royal representative, and I hope you’ll consider the proposal I gave you about serving in Chantaine for a couple of years in exchange for a scholarship and all your living expenses.”

Ryder stared at the woman in horrified silence. She was trying to seduce away one of his prized residents. Timothy was brilliant. His next step should be to one of the top neurological hospitals in the States.

Ryder laughed. “Not in a million years,” he said.

Bridget furrowed her brow. “Why not? It’s a generous offer. Dr. Bing would benefit, as would Chantaine.”

“Because Dr. Bing is not going to make a gigantic misstep in his career by taking off for an island retreat when he could be one of the top neurological surgeons in America.”

Bridget’s furrow turned to a frown. “I find it insulting that you consider a temporary move to Chantaine a misstep. Our citizens suffer from neurological illnesses, too. Is it not the goal of a doctor to heal? Why should there be a prejudice against us just because we reside in a beautiful place? Does that mean we shouldn’t have treatment?”

“I wasn’t suggesting that your country doesn’t deserve medical care. It’s my job, however, to advise Dr. Bing to make the best decisions in advancing his career and knowledge.”

Princess Bridget crossed her arms over her chest and looked down her nose at him. “I thought that was Dr. Gordon Walters’s job, although the man is nowhere to be found.”

Timothy made a choking sound. “Excuse me,” he said. “I need to …” He walked quickly away without finishing his sentence.

“Well, now you’ve done it,” she said. “I was having a perfectly lovely conversation with Dr. Bing and you ruined it.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. The whole tenor of our conversation changed when you appeared. Dr. Bing was actually open to considering my offer to come to Chantaine.”

“Dr. Bing wanted to get into your pants,” Ryder said and immediately regretted his blunt statement.

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.