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

“No.”

“You sound desperate,” she said, sympathy lacking in her tone.

“Not desperate,” he said. “Pressed.”

“Oh, well as soon as you give me a time for our meeting, I’ll get out of your way.”

“I already told you I don’t have time,” he said in a voice that no one in their right mind would question.

She shrugged. “All I want is for you to pull up your calendar and ink me in,” she said. “You already agreed.”

“Not—”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You have your job. I have mine.”

Travis arched against the stroller restraints as if he wanted out. The baby wore an expression of displeasure, which would soon turn to defiance and fury, which would also include unpleasant sound effects. Ryder loosened the strap and pulled him into his arms.

Tyler looked up expectantly and began the same arching action against the stroller. Ryder withheld an oath.

“Want some help?” Bridget asked.

“Yes,” he said. “If you could hold Tyler, I have one more person I can—” He stopped as he watched her settle the baby on her hip. An idea sprang to mind. “Can you keep them for an hour or so?”

Her eyes widened in alarm. “An hour?” she echoed. “Or so?”

“Just for this meeting,” he said. “I’ll leave as soon as possible.”

She shot him a considering look. “In exchange for an opportunity to discuss Chantaine’s medical proposition with you, and you having an open mind.”

“I agree to the first half. The second is going to be tough.”

“How tough would it be to take your twins to your important meeting?” she challenged.

The woman was playing dirty. “Okay,” he said. “As long as you understand, my first priority is my residents’ professional success.”

“Done,” she said. “Did you bring a blanket and some food?”

“Whatever the sitter keeps in the diaper bag,” he said, relief flowing through him like a cool stream of water. “Thank you,” he said, setting Travis in the stroller seat. “I’ll see you after the meeting,” he said and closed the office door behind him.

Bridget stared at the babies and they stared at her. Travis began to wiggle and make a frown face.

“Now, don’t you start,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “You haven’t even given me a chance.” She set Tyler in the other stroller seat and dove into the diaper bag and struck gold. “A blanket,” she said. “You’re going to love this,” she said and spread it on the floor. Afterward, she set Travis on the blanket, followed by Tyler.

The boys looked at her expectantly.

“What?” she asked. “You’re free from the bondage of the stroller. Enjoy yourselves.” She narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t start crawling or anything. Okay? Let’s see what else is in the bag.”

Unfortunately, not much. She used up the small container of Cheerios within the first fifteen minutes and fifteen minutes after that, both boys had lost interest in the small set of blocks. She pulled out a musical toy and helped them work that over for several minutes.

Peekaboo killed a few more minutes, but then Bridget started to feel a little panicky. She needed more snacks and toys if she was going to keep the little darlings entertained. Grabbing some blank paper from Ryder’s desk, she gave each boy a sheet.

Travis immediately put it in his mouth.

“Let’s try something else,” she said and crumpled the paper.

He smiled as if he liked the idea. Great, she thought. More paper. She crumpled a few sheets into a ball and tossed it at them. They loved that. They threw paper all over the room.

After a few more minutes, Travis began to fuss, stuffing his fist in his mouth.

“Hungry?” It would help so much if they could tell her what they needed. Luckily two bottles were also stuffed in the bag. She pulled out one and began to feed Travis. Tyler’s face crumpled and he began to cry.

“Great, great,” she muttered and awkwardly situated both boys on her lap as she fed them both their bottles.

They drained them in no time. Travis burped on her dress.

Bridget grimaced. A second later, Tyler gave her the same favor.

At least they weren’t crying, she thought, but then she sniffed, noticing an unpleasant odor. A quick check revealed Travis had left a deposit in his diaper.

Ryder opened the door to his office prepared for screaming, crying, accusations from Bridget. Instead the boys were sprawled across her lap while she sang a medical magazine to the tune of Frère Jacques. He had to admit it was pretty inventive. His office looked like a disaster zone with papers strewn everywhere and he smelled the familiar, distinct scent of dirty diapers. He must have wrinkled his nose.

She did the same. “I didn’t think it would be considerate to toss the diapers into the hallway, so they’re in the trash can. I bundled them up as best as I could.”

The boys looked safe and content. That was what was important. “It looks like you had a good time.”

“Not bad,” she said with a smile. “Considering my resources. You’re really not set up for babies here.”

“I can’t agree more,” he said and snatched up a few wads of paper. “What were you doing?”

“Playing ball with paper. It worked until Travis was determined to eat it.” She gingerly lifted one of the boys in Ryder’s direction. “So, when do we have our discussion?”

He tucked Tyler into the stroller and followed with Travis. Ryder was tempted to name a time next year but knew that wouldn’t be fair. Better to get it over with. “Tonight, at my house,” he said. “Do you like Chinese?”

“I prefer Italian or Mediterranean,” she said, frowning as she rose to her feet. “At your house?”

“It’s the one and only time I can guarantee for the foreseeable future.”

She sighed. “It’s not what I hoped for. How am I going to have your undivided attention?”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll go to sleep,” he said.

Four hours later, Bridget could barely remember what she’d said or eaten for dinner. The boys had taken a nap in the car on the way home and woken up cranky. She suspected they hadn’t gotten enough of an afternoon nap. Although she resented the fact that she wasn’t getting Ryder’s undivided attention during their discussion, she couldn’t really blame him. In fact, despite the fact that he was clearly a strong man, she could tell that caring for the twins was wearing on him. He loved them and would protect them with his life, but the man needed consistent help.

It was close to eleven before the twins truly settled down.

“I’d offer you a ride to wherever you’re staying, but I can’t pull the boys out of bed again,” he said, after he had made the trip up and down the stairs five times.

His eyes filled with weariness, he raked a hand through his hair. Her heart tugged at his quandary. The urge to help, to fix, was overwhelming. “My security is always close by. He can collect me. It’s no problem.”