The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child. Leanne Banks

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The Doctor Takes a Princess / Pregnant with the Prince's Child - Leanne Banks Mills & Boon Cherish

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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.”

      “I keep forgetting you’re a princess,” he said.

      “Maybe it’s the baby formula on my dress,” she said drily.

      “Maybe,” he said, meeting her gaze. The moment swelled between them.

      Bridget felt her chest grow tight and took a breath to alleviate the sensation.

      “I’m sure you’re tired. You could stay here if you want,” he offered. “I have a guest room and bath.”

      Bridget blinked. She was tired, but staying here? “I don’t have a change of clothes.”

      He shrugged. “I can give you a shirt to sleep in.”

      The prospect of sleeping in Ryder’s shirt was wickedly seductive. Plus, she was tired. “I’d like to get your nanny situation in order for you.”

      “That would be a dream come true,” he said. “Everything I’ve done so far hasn’t worked.”

      “There may be a fee for an agency,” she said. “I’m not sure how it works here. I’ll have to ask my sister.”

      “I took the first and second suggestions that were given to me and they didn’t pan out. It’s imperative that I have excellent care for the boys.”

      “I can see that,” she said. “But do you also realize that you will have to make some adjustments as time goes on? Later, there will be sports and school activities where parents are expected to attend.” Bridget remembered that neither of her parents had attended her school activities. Occasionally a nanny had shown up, but never her parents. “Have you figured out how you’ll address that?”

      He frowned thoughtfully. “I haven’t figured out much. I haven’t had custody very long. It’s still a shock to all of us. I know the boys miss their mother and father, but they can’t express it. I hate the loss for them. And I’m not sure I’m such a great choice as a parent. I’ve been totally dedicated to my career since I entered med school. Add to that how I’ve been filling in for Dr. Walters and it’s tough. I don’t want to let down my residents or the twins.”

      Bridget studied Ryder for a long moment. “Are you sure you want to step in as their father? There are other options. There are people who would love to welcome the boys into their—”

      “The boys are mine,” he said, his jaw locking in resolution. “It may take me some time, but I’ll figure it out. The boys are important to me. I held them minutes after they were born. I would do anything for them. We’ve just all been thrown a loop. We’re all dealing with the loss of my brother and sister-in-law. I will be there for them. I will be.”

      She nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try to help you with your nanny situation.”

      He paused and the electricity and emotion that flowed between them snapped and crackled. “Thank you.”

      She nodded. “It’s late. I may need to borrow one of your shirts and I should talk to my security.”

      “No problem,” he said, but the way he looked at her made her feel as if he’d much prefer she share his bed instead of taking the guest bed alone.

      Bridget took a quick shower and brushed her teeth with the toothbrush Ryder supplied. Pushing her hands through the sleeves of the shirt he left in the guest bedroom for her, she drank in the fresh scent of the shirt. She climbed into bed, wondering what had possessed her to get involved in Ryder’s situation and she remembered all the things she couldn’t control or influence. Maybe, just maybe she could wave a magic wand in this one and help just a little.

      It seemed only seconds after she fell asleep that she heard a knock at the door. She awakened, confused and disoriented. “Hello?”

      “Bridget,” a male voice said from the other side of the door. “It’s me, Ryder.”

      The door opened a crack. “I just wanted you to know I’m leaving.”

      Her brain moved slowly. She was not at the hotel. She was at Ryder’s townhome. “Um.”

      “The boys are still asleep.”

      She paused. “The boys?” She blinked. “Oh, the boys.”

      He came to the side of her bed. “Are you okay?”

      “What time is it?”

      “Five a.m.”

      “Is this when you usually leave for work?”

      “Pretty much,” he said.

      “Okay,” she said and tried to make her brain work. “What time do they usually get up?”

      “Six or seven,” he said. “I can try and call someone if—”

      “No, I can do it,” she said. “Just leave my door open so I can hear them.”

      “Are

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