desk. He snatched it up and read it.
Miss Bridget Devereaux called 3x this a.m. I can’t put her off forever. Gone to my anniversary celebration as discussed. Thank you for letting me off.
—Maryann
Ryder swore out loud then remembered the boys were in the room with him. “Don’t ever say that word,” he told them. “Bad word.”
He recalled Maryann asking for the afternoon off—it had to have been a week or so ago. He’d been busy when she asked and hadn’t given it a second thought. Now, he had to juggle his boys and an important meeting. He shook his head. Women managed children and careers all the time. Why was it so difficult for him? He was a healthy, intelligent man. He’d run marathons, worked more than twenty-four hours straight, brought a man back to life in the E.R., but taking care of these boys made him feel like a train wreck.
Ryder sat down at his desk and flipped through his contact list on his computer for someone he could call to watch the boys during his meeting. He sent a few emails and made three calls. All he got were voice mails.
“Well, hello, Phantom Man,” a feminine voice called from the doorway.
Ryder swallowed an oath. Just what he needed right now. He didn’t even need to look to know it was Princess Persistent. But he did and couldn’t deny that she was a sight for sore eyes. Wearing another black dress, although this one looked a slight bit more like business wear, she smiled at him with that wicked red mouth that reminded him of what he hadn’t had in a long time.
Dismissing the thought, he lifted his hand. “I have no time to talk. Important meeting in less than—” He glanced at the clock. “Thirty minutes. Got to find someone one to watch the boys.”
“Not having any luck?” she asked.
“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
