How to Knock Up Your Nurse: A Billionaire Secret Baby Romantic Comedy

by Melinda Minx

  The advantage for me tonight was that Silas has never once seen me in this dress. He'd only ever seen me wearing my frumpy scrubs, and this dress was going to blow him away.

  Assuming he showed.

  4

  Silas

  The hospital was in Queens. My fishing accident happened on Long Island, and I lived in Manhattan. Fortunately my driver was just waiting for me, and he was able to take me back home to freshen up.

  I stepped into my apartment. I was minimalistic—bordering on empty. Just the way I liked it. There was no furry animal to come up and beg for my attention or explosions of clutter. There were just cold marble floors, some pieces of tasteful art, and minimalist furniture that cost more than most people's entire apartments.

  I showered, but I took care to avoid the gauze pad. The damn thing still got wet somehow, and I just threw it off and into the bin. I looked down at my nipple as I showered, and I saw that it wasn't even bleeding anymore. It looked like Nurse Emily did a bang-up job, and I didn't even need to put anything on the wound anymore.

  I did pop a few of those antibiotics when I got back into my car, but I was not at all worried about my "injury." Medical people—doctors and nurses—had their special way of making everything out to be critical. They always thought that everything would get infected, or that everything would give you cancer. Never once in my life had any cut I'd ever gotten become infected, but since it was my fucking nipple, I decided to take the medicine anyway.

  The gauze pad was done though. I wasn't wearing what felt like a bra under my shirt. Especially if there was no bleeding.

  I got out of the shower, toweled myself off, and walked buck naked on my heated master bedroom suite floor into the heated tile of my walk-in closet. The closet was lined with clothes. More clothes than I ever needed, but I liked to keep my options open.

  Tonight I wanted to keep things low key. Which for me meant a very expensive shirt with a tie, wool pants to keep things somewhat casual, and some light-brown Italian leather boots polished to a perfect sheen.

  I threw a blazer on top of it and just did one button. I smiled at myself in the mirror. Emily was going to have a hard time resisting me.

  She was going to show up, right?

  Certainly. Somehow doubt started to inkle in though. What if she didn't? Would I be desperate enough to go hunt her down later at the hospital? No, I was not a desperate man. I gave her my A-class flirting game, and she would show up at the bar.

  She was ready to be a bad girl for me.

  5

  Emily

  I walked into the bar, very much hoping that no one from work would be there. Finnegan's was across from the hospital, but I'd never heard of anyone who worked in the hospital ever going there. I knew that I'd almost never been there. I think there was some kind of stigma against it, since it was so close to work. No one really wanted to run into their shift supervisor, or God forbid a director or big-shot surgeon while they were trying to just relax and unwind.

  That was only part of it though. The major reason people avoided Finnegan's is because that's where family members went. Especially family members who had a reason to drink.

  So I wasn't worried that someone from work would catch me with a patient. Silas' logic was actually quite sound too: He wasn't a patient anymore. He'd been discharged, he’d had no reason to come back, and we had made no verbal commitment or plans while he was still my patient.

  If he just so happened to stroll into here while I was here, then that couldn't be helped.

  I ordered a Sprite and looked around.

  I felt overdressed. This place had a real Irish Pub vibe, but the clientele didn't exactly reflect that. There was a group of what could only be described as frat guys playing pool. They had some women with them, but their dresses all looked a lot less elegant than mine, and their dates were just wearing untucked polo shirts and jeans.

  I sipped at my Sprite and started to feel self-conscious. I ordered a Sprite because I was not going to drink any alcohol if he didn't show. If he ended up not showing, I would just walk out of the bar while still stone-cold sober, give Bella an extra-tight Corgi hug, take the dumb dress off, and collapse into bed.

  I'd wake up in the morning and pretend that Silas had never existed. If he flirted with me like that and stood me up, then he was simply not worth my time.

  One of the frat guys pressed up right next to me, his elbows on that counter. "Hey! Hey! Another Stella!"

  He looked over at me almost as an afterthought, but then his eyes widened as he looked down my dress. I put my hand over my chest to keep him from seeing my tits.

  "Bartender!" He shouted. "Another..."

  He pointed to my drink. I watched closely to make sure he wasn't slipping anything in there.

  "It's a Sprite," I said. "And no, thank you. I'm meeting someone here."

  The frat guy made an overly dramatic face at me, puckering his lips up and pulling his head back. I assumed it was meant to be an impression of me, his version of what a "stuck up bitch" looked like.

  His friend came up and tapped him on the shoulder. "More Stellas, bro!"

  The first frat guy scoffed at me and shook his head. "Alright then, but when your date doesn't show, don't come begging to me."

  I smiled at him. "Don't worry, I won't."

  His friend bursted out laughing, doing that high-pitched cackling laugh that only guys like this ever seemed to do. "Bro." He wiggled his fingers around and made a hissing sizzling sound, then elbowed his friend.

  The bartender slid four glasses of beer out, and the frat guys grabbed one in each hand.

  "Bitch," the first one hissed at me as he walked away.

  Great. So now if Silas didn't show, this was what I got dressed up for. To get called a “bitch” by some asshole.

  I sipped my Sprite very slowly, because I decided that after I finished it, I was leaving. If I really wanted to just go home and forget him in the morning, it would get harder to do the longer I waited here. It was better to leave early to save as much of my dignity as possible.

  I drank faster than I wanted, because the frat guy who called me a bitch kept eyeing me from across the room. I looked up at the clock and realized it had already been an hour. I'd taken over an hour to get ready, and now I'd sat here for an entire hour. He wasn't going to show, and I was starting to feel unsafe.

  I slurped down the rest of my Sprite, closed out my tab, and left.

  The bar had two sets of doors separated by a little foyer and coat room. Just as I was grabbing my coat, the outside door swung open, and Silas walked in.

  He wasn't shirtless, but somehow this man made wearing a shirt and blazer look equally as sexy. He had a crisp white button-up on with a blue tie and a navy blazer. He even had a white handkerchief in the blazer pocket. His shirt was tucked into greyish-brown wool pants, and his shoes were immaculately polished. He looked up at me and his mouth fell open.

  "Nurse Emily," he said, wonder in his voice. "God, do you clean up well."

  I blushed and bit my lip. "Are you saying I looked especially bad before?"

  He shook his head, his eyes falling down my body. "No, you looked breathtaking even in scrubs, but now you look like a million bucks."

  "That isn't very much money to you."

  He grinned. "Then you look like a billion dollars. Here, let me take your coat."

  I thought to tell him that I was just leaving, but I was already over being mad at him for showing up late. Before I could even consider saying anything though, he was helping me get my coat off, and it felt too good to have him touching me to stop him at this point. He hung my coat right back where it had just been, then smiled at me "Shall we go inside?"

  I nodded, and he opened the door for me. I tried my best as I walked inside to act like I hadn't just been here. The bartender waved to me, and the frat guy scowled at me, or maybe he was scowling at Silas. More likely than not he was pissed off that my date did actually show, and that there was now z
ero chance of me "coming to him." As if that was ever going to happen in the first place.

  "What would you like to drink?" Silas asked me.

  "What do you usually drink?"

  He shrugged. "Your choice tonight."

  "You'll drink whatever I order?"

  He smiled.

  I approached the bartender, and I tried my best to give him a face that would tip him off to pretend like I hadn't just been sitting alone at the bar for an hour.

  "Another Sprite?" he asked, pointing to the empty glass two chairs down. "Should I re-open your tab?"

  Silas shook his head. "I'll be paying."

  "Two cosmopolitans, please," I said, my voice barely coming out.

  We sat down next to each other, and Silas reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, then ran his finger just below my jaw. He gently motioned for me to look up, because I was trying to mostly avoid eye contact.

  "Emily," he said, when I finally met his eyes, "how long did I make you wait?"

  "Not long," I said.

  "Almost an hour!" the bartender shouted from behind the bar.

  Silas frowned and pulled his hand away. "I didn't intend to make you wait, Emily. I thought you'd arrive a lot later. I was hoping to be the one waiting for you."

  It was only like 8:30. I remembered that most of my friends didn't even start "going out" until well past 10. "It's okay, Silas."

  "You were about to leave then," he said. "I almost missed you."

  I nodded. "I guess we had a different idea of what time to meet."

  "I should have said a time," he said, shaking his head. "I was trying my best to be vague, so that you couldn't possibly get in trouble. I didn't know if they had the room bugged or something."

  I laughed. "It's a hospital, not the Chinese embassy."

  "I mean cameras. Or whatever. Maybe they have them to avoid getting sued?"

  "Silas, it's okay, really. I appreciate that you kept my job safety in mind while asking me out. We didn't exactly agree on the time, but that's to be expected when we set the date up halfway with our eyes."

  "Ah," he said, "you liked that? I did too. The way you looked at me told me you'd be here. I didn't doubt it for a minute. I guess I need to up my 'smoldering gaze' game then, because I made you doubt me."

  "Your smoldering gaze is pretty damn good, Silas, it's just that I was worried you were playing with me."

  "I was."

  "I meant...playing with me in a mean way."

  "Never."

  The bartender set our drinks in front of us.

  "Ah," Silas said. "Cosmo, my favorite."

  "Really?"

  He shook his head. "No, but I like our drinks matching like this. It shows that we’re together."

  We clinked our glasses together.

  "Hey," he snapped.

  "What?"

  "You didn't make eye contact with me."

  "I did."

  He shook his head. "You did not. You looked down at my shoulder or something right as the glasses clinked."

  "So what?"

  "Have you ever been to Germany?"

  I shook my head.

  "I was there a few years back trying to sell publishing rights to the German market. I was drinking with a bunch of Germans, and even when you have ten or fifteen people drinking together, you make eye contact with each and every one of them while you Prost. That really stuck with me."

  "Why?"

  "Because," he said, "I'm a very superstitious man, and do you know what the superstition is in Germany? Do you know what happens if you don't make eye contact while saying ‘Prost?’"

  "We didn't say 'Prost.'"

  "We toasted each other, Emily. If you don't look each other in the eye while you toast, it means you'll have bad sex for seven years."

  I laughed. "No wonder I've been having such bad sex then!"

  He held his glass up, and I lifted mine again.

  "Let's fix that for you, Nurse Emily, starting tonight."

  We clinked our glasses together, and I lost myself in his eyes this time. They were icy blue oceans, but despite their cool color, they were already starting to make me melt.

  "Much better," he said. "You'll have to let me know if the sex gets better."

  He winked, and I did break eye contact now.

  "Stella! Stellaaaaa!" a familiar and grating voice cut in. "I'm doing Rocky! Get it, Jake?"

  The bartender forced a laugh. "Yeah, got it. How many?"

  "Four more," the frat guy said, sliding onto the stool while he waited.

  He looked over at me, and then up at Silas, because Silas had a good four inches on him. "Nice Cosmo, bro."

  "Thanks," Silas said, and he held up his glass.

  The frat guy had a mostly empty glass, and he chugged the rest down without so much as looking at Silas. Instead of looking at Silas, he looked creepily down at my legs and whispered a "nice" to me.

  "What was that?" Silas asked.

  "Didn't say anything," the frat guy lied.

  "I'm pretty sure I heard you whisper something to my girlfriend. But you whispered it like a snake—or if you want a less animal-based metaphor, you whispered like a fucking pussy—so that she could hear it, but not me.”

  "Silas," I said, putting a hand up. I didn't want him to get in a fight over this, but I did have to admit that it felt really good to have him defending me. And did he just call me his girlfriend?

  The frat guy looked up with a cocky grin. "I was just telling your girlfriend she was hot. I figured since you were drinking a cosmo that you were gay, and I didn’t think you’d mind if a real man complimented your beard on her nice legs and fat titties."

  "Alright," Silas said, jumping up off his stool.

  The frat guy jumped up too.

  Silas unbuttoned his blazer and threw it onto the stool behind him.

  So maybe this was all kind of hot. I didn't want Silas to get hurt, but based on the fact that Silas was stronger, taller, and also much less wasted than the frat guy, I figured there was fairly little risk of Silas getting hurt. As a nurse though, I felt compelled to at least try to stop this. The last thing I wanted was to have to feel obligated to treat the frat guy's wounds.

  "Silas," I said, tugging on his arm.

  The frat guy laughed. "Your beard is gonna stop you from fighting? She’s not even fucking you, bro, you don’t have to do what she says."

  "Just promise me," Silas said, "that when I start beating your ass, that your buddies won't dogpile me. This is a one-on-one fight."

  "Then get the woman off your arm, bro!" The frat guy squinted, cocked his head, and burst out laughing.

  "Are we fighting or not?" Silas shouted.

  The frat guy pointed at Silas' chest, "It looks like your gay-ass nipple piercing is bleeding, bro."

  Silas looked down, and then I noticed it too. His wound was bleeding pretty bad. He'd worn a white shirt, and the blood was soaking right through.

  "Hmm," Silas whispered to me, "I was—"

  From the corner of my eye I noticed the frat guy coming. Silas must have noticed faster, because he shielded my body with his, and the frat guy's sucker punch slammed right into Silas' jaw.

  Silas stumbled backward, and I stepped back as well so I didn't end up in the middle of the fight.

  The bartender was rolling his eyes and bringing his phone to his ear. He shouted over at Silas and the frat guy. "Cut this shit out or the cops will have to break it up!"

  The frat guy smirked at the bartender. "Check it out Jake, I just punched him in the face. I really am Rocky now. Stella! Stellaaaaa!"

  His friends all came over and started watching. Silas moved fast. Much faster than I expected him to. He looked like he was ready to punch back the same way the frat guy had, but just as the frat guy brought his fists up, Silas darted in the other direction. He slammed his fist into the frat guy's exposed ribs. The frat guy growled and tried to tackle Silas.

  Silas dodged, and the frat guy crashe
d into the bar, knocking a stool over in the process. He grabbed his mostly empty beer glass and swung it toward Silas' face.

  Silas grabbed his wrist, stopping the glass just a few inches short of his face. He took the frat guy's other arm by the elbow, and then suddenly he did what I could only describe as "some serious Kung Fu shit" and the next thing I saw was the frat guy flipping up into the air, crashing onto the ground, and letting out a painful whining sound as Silas pinned him to the floor with his knee pressing into the Frat Guy's neck.

  "Now apologize to her," Silas growled.

  The bartender leaned over the bar. "Mr. Cosmopolitan, if you can get this fucker out of the bar without hurting him too much worse, I won't call the cops."

  "Apologize!" Silas said, pressing his knee into the frat guy's windpipe."

  "I'm sorry I said you were hot!" the frat guy rasped.

  Silas slapped him upside the face. "Apologize sincerely, dumbfuck. I have my knee on your fucking windpipe. Are you really going to keep mouthing off from this position?"

  "I'm sorry I called you a bitch!" he shouted, his voice going up several octaves.

  "Just let him go," I pleaded to Silas, pulling on his arm.

  "One second," Silas said. "Now apologize for making fun of me."

  "Are you fucking serious?" the bartender asked.

  Silas shrugged. "I just want to see if he'll do it."

  "I'm sorry for calling you gay!" the frat guy said. "My cousin Chad is gay, and he's cool as shit. I was just drunk and fucking around. I’m sorry, man!"

  Silas let him up, and he scurried back to his friends, who all started making fun of him.

  The bartender gave Silas a warning look. "Not a great first impression, man."

  Silas reached into his wallet and slapped a thick wad of cash onto the bar. "My apologies."

  "Come on," Silas said, taking me by the hand. "Let's get out of here."

  As we're getting our coats back on, I stopped him. I pushed a hand onto the wet spot on his shirt. "Why did you take off the gauze?"

  "It came off in the shower."

  "You were supposed to put a new one on."