The Doctor Takes a Princess Page 9

  “Which appearance is that?” Tina asked.

  “In Dallas,” Bridget said. “I must say I do love Zach’s new toy. I think it will be a fabulous way for the two of you to relax.”

  “Exactly which appearance in Dallas?” Tina said, studying her with narrowed eyes.

  “Stop being so nosy,” Bridget said.

  Tina narrowed her eyes further. “This is about that doctor with the twins, isn’t it?”

  “His sitter for tomorrow has cancelled so we have to find another.”

  “We?”

  Bridget sighed. “If you met him, you’d understand. He performs surgery, advises residents and he’s an instant father.”

  “Perhaps he should take some time off to be with his new children,” Tina muttered.

  “It’s not that easy. His mentor has Alzheimer’s and he’s trying to fill his position unofficially.”

  Tina studied her. “You’re not falling for him, are you?”

  Bridget gave a hearty laugh at the same time she fought the terror in her soul. “Of course not. You know I prefer Italian men.”

  Tina paused, then nodded. “True, and although you love your nieces, you’ve always said you couldn’t imagine having children before you were thirty.”

  “Exactly,” she said, though she felt a strange twinge.

  “Hmm,” Tina said, still studying her. “Is this doctor good-looking?”

  Bridget shrugged. Yes, Ryder was very good-looking, but that wasn’t why she found him so compelling. Giving herself a mental eye roll, she knew Tina wouldn’t understand. “He’s fine,” she said. “But he’s not Italian.”

  Tina giggled and put her arm around Bridget. “Now that’s our Bridget. That’s the kind of answer I would expect from you. Come back and relax with us.”

  Bridget smiled, but part of her felt uncomfortable. She knew what Tina was saying, that Bridget wasn’t a particularly deep person. The truth was she’d never wanted to be deep. If she thought too deeply, she suspected she could become depressed. After all, she’d been a fairly average child, not at all spectacular. She hadn’t flunked out in school, but she hadn’t excelled at anything either. Except at being cheerful. Or pretending to be cheerful.

  “I’ll be there in just a moment. I need to make a few calls first.”

  “Very well, but don’t take too long. Troy may not be Italian, but he’s very good-looking and spends a fair amount of time in Italy.”

  “Excellent point,” Bridget said, although she felt not the faintest flicker of interest in the man. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  Several moments later, Bridget used all her charm to get the part-time sitter to fill in for the morning. Relieved, she called Marshall to inform him of the change.

  “Hey, did you hear from Ryder?” he asked before she could get a word in edgewise.

  “No. Should I have?” she asked, confused. “I thought he was in surgery.”

  “He’s apparently out. He just called to tell me Dr. Walters passed away this morning,” Marshall said.

  Bridget’s heart sank. “Oh no.”

  “Yeah. He’s taking it hard. He hadn’t seen Dr. Walters in a while and he’d been planning to try to visit him later this week.” Marshall sighed. “Dr. Walters was the closest thing to a father Ryder had.”

  Bridget felt so helpless. “Is there something I can do?”

  “Not really,” Marshall said. “The twins will keep him busy tonight and that’s for the best. The next few days are gonna be tough, though.”

  She saw her sister walking toward her and felt conflicted. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “No problem. Thanks for taking care of the childcare for tomorrow morning. Bye for now.”

  “Goodbye,” she said, but he had already disconnected.

  “You look upset,” Tina said.

  “I am.”

  After 9:30 p.m., Ryder prowled his den with a heavy heart. His mentor was gone. Although Dr. Walters had been mentally gone for a while now, the finality of the man’s physical death hit Ryder harder than he’d expected. Maybe it was because he’d lost his brother so recently, too.

  Ryder felt completely and totally alone. Sure, he had the twins and his profession, but two of the most important people in the world to him were gone and never coming back. He wondered what it meant that aside from his longtime friend Marshall, he had no other meaningful relationships. Was he such a workaholic that he’d totally isolated himself?

  A knock sounded on his door, surprising him. Probably Marshall, he thought and opened the door. To Bridget. His heart turned over.

  “Hi,” she said, her gaze searching his. She bit her lip. “I know it’s late and I don’t want to impose—”

  He snagged her arm and pulled her inside. “How did you know?”

  “Marshall,” she said, then shot him a chiding glance. “I would have preferred to hear it from you.”

  “I thought about it,” he said, raking his hand through his hair. “But you’ve done enough helping with the babies.”

  “I thought perhaps that you and I were about more than the babies, but maybe I was wrong,” she said, looking away.

  His heart slamming against his rib cage, he cupped her chin and swiveled it toward him. “You were right. You know you were.”

  “Is it just sex? Are you just totally deprived?” she asked in an earnest voice.

  He swallowed a chuckle. “I wish.”

  Her eyes darkened with emotion and she stepped closer. She moved against him and slid her arms upward around the back of his neck. She pulled his face toward hers and he couldn’t remember feeling this alive. Ever.

  His lips brushed hers and he tried to hold on to his self-control, but it was tough. She slid her moist lips from side to side and he couldn’t stand it any longer. He devoured her with his mouth, tasting her, taking her. Seconds later, he realized he might not ever get enough, but damn, he would give it his best shot.

  He slid his fingers through her hair and slid his tongue deeper into her mouth. She suckled it and wriggled against him. Her response made him so hard that he wasn’t sure he could stand it. His body was on full tilt in the arousal zone.

  He took a quick breath and forced himself to draw back. “I’m not sure I can pull back after this,” he said, sliding his hands down over her waist and hips. “If you’re going to say no, do it now.”

  Silence hung between them for heart-stopping seconds.

  He sucked in another breath. “Bridget—”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

  Everything in front of him turned black and white at the same time. He drew her against him and ran his hands up to her breasts and her hair, then back down again. He wanted to touch every inch of her.

  She felt like oxygen to him, like life after he’d been in a tomb. He couldn’t get enough of her. He savored the taste and feel of her. Tugging at her blouse, he pushed it aside and slid his hands over her shoulders and lower to the tops of her breasts.

  She gave a soft gasp that twisted his gut.

  “Okay?” he asked, dipping his thumbs over her nipples.

  She gasped again. “Yesssss.”

  He unfastened her bra and filled his hands with her breasts.

  Ryder groaned. Bridget moaned.

  “So sexy,” he muttered.

  She pulled at his shirt and seconds later, her breasts brushed his chest. Ryder groaned again.

  The fire inside him exploded and he pushed aside the rest of her clothes and his. He tasted her breasts and slid his mouth lower to her belly and lower still, drawing more gasps and moans from her delicious mouth. Then he thought about contraception. Swearing under his breath, he pulled back for a second. “Give me a few seconds,” he said. “You’ll thank me later.”

  He raced upstairs to grab condoms and returned downstairs.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Trust me,” he said and took her mouth again. He slid his hand between her legs and found her wet and wanting.

 
Unable to hold back one moment longer, he pushed her legs apart and sank inside her. Bridget clung to him as he pumped inside her. She arched against him, drawing him deep.

  He tried to hold out, but she felt so good. Plunging inside her one last time, he felt his climax roar through him. Alive, he felt more alive than he’d felt for as long as he could remember…. “Bridget,” he muttered.

  Her breath mingled with his and he could sense that she hadn’t gone over the top. He was determined to take her there. Sliding his hand between them, he found her sweet spot and began to stroke.

  Her breath hitched. The sound was gratifying and arousing. A couple moments later, she stiffened beneath him. He began to thrust again and she came in fits and starts, sending him over the edge.

  He couldn’t believe his response to her. Twice in such a short time? He wasn’t an eighteen-year-old. “Come to bed with me.”

  “Yes,” she said. “If I can make my legs move enough to walk upstairs.”

  He chuckled and knew the sound was rough. Everything about him felt sated, yet aroused and rough. “I’ll help.”

  “Thank goodness,” she said.

  He helped her to her feet, but when they arrived at the bottom of the steps, he swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.

  “Oh, help,” she said. “I hope I don’t give you a hernia.”

  “If you do, it’ll be worth it,” he said.

  She swatted at him. “You’re supposed to say I’m as light as a feather even though I may weigh half a ton.”

  “You took the words out of my mouth. You’re light as a feather,” he said.

  She met his gaze and her eyes lit with a glow that both warmed and frightened him. “Excellent response,” she said and took his mouth in a sensual kiss that made him dizzy.

  “Whoa,” he said and stumbled the rest of the way to his room. He set her on the mattress and followed her down. “You smell amazing,” he said inhaling her scent. “You taste incredible,” he said and dragged his tongue over her throat. “I want to be inside you all night long.”

  Her breath hitched again and she swung her legs around his hips. Sliding her fingers into his hair, she pulled his mouth to hers. “Do your best,” she whispered and he thrust inside her.

  Later that night, Bridget awakened, finding herself curled around Ryder. She was clinging to him. Her body said she wanted all of him, as much as he could give, as much as she could receive. But it wasn’t just her body that craved him; some part deep inside her felt as if she belonged exactly where she was.

  Her breath abandoned her. How was she supposed to manage this, this physical, yet highly emotional relationship with a man like Ryder? It wasn’t even a man like Ryder. It was Ryder himself.

  Ryder slid his thigh between hers, sending her sensual awareness of him into high mode. “You’re awake,” he said, sliding his arms around her. “You weren’t planning on going anywhere, were you?”

  “No. Just thinking.”

  “I’ll put a stop to that,” he said and distracted her again with his lovemaking. Afterward, she fell asleep.

  The sound of a baby crying awakened her minutes later…. Had it really been hours? she wondered as she glanced at the alarm clock. Looking beside her, she saw that Ryder had already left the bed. The second baby started crying and she rose from the bed and pulled on one of Ryder’s shirts. Thank goodness it covered her nearly to her knees because she’d left her own clothes downstairs.

  She met Ryder in the hallway as he carried a baby in each arm. “Sorry our good-morning song woke you,” he said with a wry, sleepy grin. His hair was sleep-mussed and a whisker shadow darkened his chin. Shirtless, he wore a pair of pajama pants that dipped below his belly button. She couldn’t remember when he’d looked more sexy.

  Reining in her thoughts, she extended her hands to take one of the twins. “I can help.”

  Tyler immediately fell toward her and she caught him in her arms.

  “He made that decision pretty quickly. Can’t fault his judgment,” he said with a chuckle. “I already changed their diapers.”

  “Really?” she said, astonished.

  “Don’t look so surprised,” he said as he led the way down the stairs. “My baby-care skills are improving.”

  “Congratulations,” she said and put Tyler into one of the high chairs while Ryder slid Travis into the other high chair. She immediately put a few Cheerios on the trays while she prepared the bottles.

  Ryder prepared the oatmeal. “You’re getting faster at this baby stuff, too.”

  “I watched Suzanne one morning and took notes. She’s so efficient.”

  “I’ll be glad when she can come back,” he said.

  “Oh, speaking of that,” she said. “The part-time sitter should be here any—”

  A knock sounded at the door and Bridget felt a sliver of panic as she glanced at her bare legs and thought of her clothing strewn across the den. “Oh, bloody—Stefan will have my head. I’ll be back in a couple moments,” she said and grabbed her clothes and scrambled upstairs to get dressed. She glanced in the mirror and tried to tame her hair before she returned to the stairs.

  Ryder met her halfway with an inscrutable expression in his eyes. “Embarrassed to be caught with an American doctor?”

  “Not embarrassed so much as I wouldn’t want my brother Stefan to find out. He really prefers we maintain a squeaky-clean image. And unfortunately we never know when someone may leak something to the press. That can turn into a huge mess.”

  “So you keep all your lovers hidden?” he asked.

  “There haven’t been that many,” she said. “Do you really want paparazzi standing outside your door assaulting you with questions about me?”

  “Good point,” he said. “I’m going up to my study for a while. Dr. Walters’s wife has asked me to write a eulogy for his memorial service.”

  Bridget’s heart twisted at the grief Ryder was clearly trying to conceal. “I’m so sorry. Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?”

  His lips twitched. “You did a damn good job distracting me last night.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. “I was thinking of a cup of tea.”

  He shook his head. “I drink coffee. Breakfast would be nice, though.”

  She blinked. “Food. You want me to prepare food?” she echoed, at a loss. She’d taken one cooking class in her younger years and couldn’t remember anything from it except how to put out a fire on a stove top.

  He chuckled. “Sorry. I forgot your position, Your Highness.”

  She immediately felt challenged by his tone. “Well, it’s not as if I can’t prepare a meal. I just don’t do it on a regular basis.”

  “When was the last time?” he asked.

  She lifted her chin. “I prepared lunch for the twins just last week.”

  He laughed again, this time louder. “Bottles and jars of fruits and vegetables.”

  “They seemed to like it,” she said. “Okay, what would you like for breakfast?”

  “I’m guessing eggs Benedict would be too much to ask,” he said.

  She glowered at him.

  “Okay. I’ll go easy. Scrambled eggs, toast and coffee.”

  “I’ll be right back with it,” she said, muttering to herself as she continued down the rest of the stairs. This was ridiculous. Why should she care if Ryder considered her unskilled in the kitchen? He obviously respected her other talents such as organizing his childcare.

  After a brief consultation with the sitter, however, Bridget burned everything, even the coffee. She cleaned up her mess and started over, this time cooking everything on low. It seemed to take forever, but she finally got the job done and took the tray to Ryder’s upstairs study.

  He opened the door, wearing a distracted expression. “Thanks,” he said, took the tray and closed the door.

  She frowned, but took a breath. He was performing a difficult task. He needed understanding and patience.

  Bridget went to his bedroom and ar
ranged for a cleaning service. In her opinion, the house needed regular servicing. The sitters shouldn’t be expected to clean in addition to keeping the twins. The twins were already a handful. An hour later, the cleaners arrived and she decided to take more coffee to Ryder.

  She knocked on his door with the cup outstretched.

  “Thanks,” he said, still distracted as he accepted the cup. He closed the door again. She hesitated to interrupt, but thought it best to remove the dirty dishes, so she knocked again.

  He opened the door, his eyebrows furrowed. “What?” he asked, almost in a curt voice.

  “I thought I would take your dishes from breakfast,” she said.

  “Breakfast?” he said, his brow furrowing more.

  “Yes, the eggs and toast you requested,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said and went into his office. Seconds later, he returned with his uneaten eggs and toast.

  “You didn’t touch them,” she said.

  “Yeah, sorry. I’m really hung up over this eulogy.”

  Her frustration spiked. “I fixed these eggs and you didn’t take a bite.”

  “I apologize. Really,” he said, his face grief-stricken. In another instance, she would have screamed. But she knew Ryder was suffering.

  “Fine,” she managed in a tight voice. “What would you like for lunch?”

  “Oh, anything. A ham sandwich. Thanks, B,” he said and closed his door again. B? She’d never been called B in her life.

  She helped the sitter with the boys, then took another trip to Ryder’s study with a ham sandwich.

  “Thanks,” he said and accepted the sandwich.

  “Are you okay?” she asked before he could close the door in her face.

  He shook his head. “I’m not there yet.” He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss against her mouth.

  After that brief meeting, Bridget left because she sensed Ryder needed his space and she was determined to respect it.

  Ryder finally finished writing the eulogy. He had no idea what time it was until he glanced at the clock. 4:30 p.m. Whoa. Later than he intended. Good thing he’d cancelled all his appointments and that this wasn’t a surgery day. Stretching his neck, he glanced around the room and noticed the sad-looking ham sandwich on the table on the other side of the room.