by Leanne Banks
Tina patted her back with sympathy. “You still feel guilty about that. I know Eve wishes you didn’t.”
Bridget took a careful breath, reining in her emotions. “She saved my life when the crowd was going to stampede me. Pushed me aside and threw herself in front of me. I’m just so glad she survived it and recovered. I don’t know what I would do if she hadn’t…” Her throat closed up again.
“Well, she survived and you did, too. That’s what’s important,” Zach said and pulled Bridget into a brotherly hug. “And now that you’re in my territory, I want you to think twice before getting on elevators.”
Tina laughed. “So protective,” she said. “It’s a wonder he doesn’t find some kind of testing device for you to use so you won’t get stuck again.”
Zach rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Not a bad idea. Maybe—”
“Forget it,” Bridget said, the knot in her chest easing at the love she felt from both her sister and her brother-in-law. “I’ll be fine. Think about it. How many people do you know who have gotten stuck in elevators? Especially more than once?”
“You were a good soldier,” Tina said in approval. “And you still showed up for your appearance at Keely’s charity event.”
“She probably wasn’t expecting me in my sad state with droopy hair and a dress with baby-food stain on it.”
“Oh, she said they loved you. Found you charming. Were delighted by your story about the elevator. Most important, the donations increased after your arrival.”
“Well, I guess baby-food stains are good for something, then. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to finish your goodbyes in private. Safe travels, Zach.”
“You bet,” he said.
Bridget scooped up her cup of hot tea and walked upstairs to the guest room where she was staying. Her sister had redecorated the room in soothing shades of green and blue. The ranch should have given Bridget a sense of serenity. After all, she was miles from Stefan and his to-do list for her. She was away from Chantaine where she was recognized and haunted by the paparazzi whenever she left the palace. But Bridget never seemed to be able to escape the restlessness inside her. That was why she’d decided to skip a short vacation and take care of this significant task Stefan had asked of her. After that, she could take her trip to Italy and find her peace again.
No one had ever accused Bridget of being deep. She voiced her distress and upset to her family at will, but presented the rest of the world with a cheery effervescent face. It was her job.
Some of the conditions she’d witnessed during the past year and a half, the sights and sounds of children sick in the hospital, Chantaine’s citizens struggling with poverty, cut her to the quick and it had been difficult to keep her winsome attitude intact. It irritated her how much she now had to struggle to maintain a superficial air. Life had been so much easier when she hadn’t faced others in need. Life had been easier when someone hadn’t been willing to sacrifice her life for the sake of Bridget’s safety.
Even though Eve had indeed survived and thrived since the accident, something inside Bridget had changed. And she wasn’t sure she liked it. Eve and Stefan had fallen in love and married. Eve cared for Stefan’s out-of-wedlock daughter as if she were her own. On the face of it, everything was wonderful.
Deep down, though, Bridget wondered if her life was really worth saving. What had she done that made her worthy of such an act?
She squeezed her eyes shut and swore under her breath. “Stop asking that question,” she whispered harshly to herself.
Steeling herself against the ugly swarm of emotions, Bridget set her cup of tea on the table. She would complete the task Stefan asked of her. Then maybe she would have settled the score inside her, the score she couldn’t quite explain even to herself. Afterward she would go to Italy and hopefully she would find the joy and lightness she’d lost.
After three days of being unable to meet with the head of residents at Texas Medical Center of Dallas, Bridget seethed with impatience. Dr. Gordon Walters was never available, and all her calls to his office went unanswered. Thank goodness for connections. Apparently Tina’s friend Keely knew a doctor at University Hospital and there just happened to be a meet and greet for interns, doctors and important donors at a hotel near the hospital on Tuesday night.
Bridget checked into the hotel and her security took the room next to hers. One advantage of being at Zach’s ranch meant security was superfluous. Not so in Dallas. She dressed carefully because she needed to impress and to be taken seriously. A black dress with heels. She resisted the urge to paint her lips red. The old Bridget wouldn’t have batted an eye.
Frowning into the bathroom mirror in her suite, she wondered what that meant. Well, hell, if Madonna could wear red lipstick and be taken seriously, why couldn’t she? She smoothed her fingers over her head and tucked one side of her hair behind her left ear. She’d colored her hair darker lately. It fit her mood.
She frowned again into the mirror. Maybe she would dye it blond when she moved to Italy.
She punched the code for her security on her cell phone. Raoul picked up immediately. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“I’m ready. Please stay in the background,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. But I shall join you on the elevator.”
A couple moments later, she rode said elevator to the floor which held the meeting rooms and ballrooms. A host stood outside the ballroom which housed the cocktail party she would attend. “Name?” he asked as she approached him.
She blinked, unaccustomed to being screened. Doors opened at the mention of her title. Not in Texas, she supposed. “Bridget Devereaux and escort,” she said, because Raoul was beside her.
The man flipped through several pages and checked off her name. “Welcome,” he said. “Please go in.”
“The nerve of the man,” Raoul said as they entered the ballroom full of people. “To question a member of the royal family,” he fumed as he surveyed the room.
Bridget smiled. “Novel experience,” she said. “I’m looking for Dr. Gordon Walters. If you see him, by all means, please do tell me.”
Thirty minutes later, Bridget was ready to pull out her hair. Every time she mentioned Dr. Walters’s name, people clammed up. She couldn’t squeeze even a bit of information about the man from anyone.
Frustrated, she accepted a glass of wine and decided to take another tack.
Dr. Ryder McCall checked his watch for the hundredth time in ten minutes. How much longer did he need to stay? The latest nanny he’d hired had seemed okay when he’d left tonight, but after his previous experiences, he couldn’t be sure. He caught a glimpse of the back of a woman with dark brown wavy hair and paused. Something about her looked familiar.
The dress was classic and on a woman with a different body, it would have evoked images of that actress. What was her name? Audrey something. But this woman had curves which evoked entirely different thoughts. The sight of the woman’s round derriere reminded Ryder of the fact that he hadn’t been with a woman in a while. Too long, he thought and adjusted his tie.
Curious, he moved so that he could catch a side view of her. Oh yeah, he thought, his gaze sliding over her feminine form from her calves to her thighs to the thrust of her breasts. He could easily imagine her minus the dress. His body responded. Then he glanced upward to her face and recognition slammed into him.
The woman speaking so animatedly to one of his top residents, Timothy Bing, was the same woman he’d met in the elevator the other night. Princess whatever. Bridget, he recalled. And of course, his top resident was utterly enthralled. Why wouldn’t he be? The poor resident was sleep-deprived, food-deprived and sex-deprived.
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.
“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 crib, he glanced inside and even in the dark, he knew that this was Tyler, and he was in Travis’s bed. Travis was in Tyler’s bed. He wasn’t going to complain. They were both lying on their backs in la-la land. Which was exactly where he would like to be.
Instead, he walked on quiet footsteps out of the room and gently closed the door behind him. Returning to the den, he saw Marshall still sprawled on his sofa with the same beer in his hand.
