Amy Ruttan - Pregnant with the Soldier's Son

There had to be at least ten other soldiers in the bar, but he kept to himself, his eyes fixed on the television in the corner, oblivious to what was going on around him.

Either oblivious or unconcerned.

Ingrid loved the tall, dark and silent types. Something to do with her love of heroes like Mr. Rochester, Mr. Thornton and Mr. Darcy.

As if knowing she was assessing him, he tore his gaze from the television screen and looked at her. Even from just six feet away she could see his eyes were crystal blue. So light and intense they seemed to pull her in.

Heat bloomed in her cheeks and she turned away quickly.

What am I doing?

This wasn’t her style. She didn’t flirt with strangers in a bar. She was too much of an introvert for that. The only people she could open up and talk to really were other surgeons, nurses or her patients.

Career was what Ingrid focused on. Not men.

That’s why I’m still a virgin.

Well, she may still be a virgin, but at least she was finally an attending at Rapid City Health Sciences Center.

One goal accomplished.

It was why she was at this country-and-western bar with her coworkers. To celebrate her promotion. Not to flirt with men.

Why not?

Because she had no interest in a relationship. Marriage and commitment were not things she’d ever get entangled in.

“Well, it seems a lucky lady has caught Beefcake’s attention,” Philomena whispered in her ear.

Ingrid stole a glance out of the corner of her eye and saw that the beefcake in question was staring at her. He smiled, a crooked smile that was so sexy it made her heart skip a beat and her insides turn a bit gushy.

Could be the alcohol.

Ingrid glanced away again; she knew she was blushing.

“What’s wrong?” Philomena asked. “He’s coming over. Talk to him.”

“I can’t,” Ingrid whispered. “What do I say?”

“Finish your drink and say hi. Maybe he’ll buy you another.” Philomena moved to leave, but Ingrid grabbed her arm.

“No, don’t leave me. I’m not good with men.”

Philomena just grinned as she detached Ingrid’s clawlike grip from her forearm. “You’ll be fine. Live a little.”

Right. Live a little.

Except that’s not how she had been raised. Her father, if he was dead, which he wasn’t, would be spinning in his grave to know what she was contemplating.

He’d taught her never to take risks. To play it safe and lead a respectable and worthwhile life. Not that he thought being an orthopedic surgeon was as worthwhile as being a cardiothoracic surgeon or a neurosurgeon, but that was neither here nor there. And one risk she never wanted to take was falling in love.

Who says you have to fall in love?

Which was true.

Love at first sight was a fairy tale. One she didn’t believe in. Love was for fools.

Oh, great. She was dithering. She usually dithered and stammered when she was around hot men, but that was usually out loud. Now it was happening subconsciously too.

Ingrid hurriedly gulped down her drink, the alcohol burning her throat. She tried not to choke when she sensed a large body behind her. The scent of cologne and something spicy she couldn’t quite put her finger on overcame her senses.

“Is this seat taken?”

Ingrid looked up and the gorgeous, broody soldier from across the bar was standing right beside her.

Don’t stammer!

“No, go ahead.” Ingrid hoped there was no hitch in her voice to let him know she was a bit nervous. In fact, the whole room began to spin. She wasn’t sure if it was the vodka or him.

She hoped it was him.

He sat down next to her. “Can I order you another one?”

“Sure, I’d like that.” She didn’t have to work in the morning, but this was also the most she’d ever drunk in one sitting.

Live a little.

Oh, God. She’d never lived a little, and somewhere, deep down inside, the part of her that her father had raised was screaming at her to run, but it was faint compared to the rest of her, which wanted to take a chance and live a little.

Damn.

Good thing her father wasn’t here because he’d be reminding her how her mother had been a free spirit and that reckless behavior was the reason she’d left them.

Don’t freak out and don’t think about that.

“Barkeep, I’ll have another beer and the lady here will have a …”

“Cosmo,” Ingrid blurted out.

The bartender nodded and started to prepare their drinks.

Ingrid began to fiddle with the damp paper napkin in front of her, totally at a loss for anything to say. The opposite sex wasn’t her forte. She always got so weird and awkward around them.

As was evident by the fact she could barely look him straight in the eye, and she could feel a blush over her entire body, not just her cheeks.

“I’m Clint. What’s your name?”

“Philomena.” Ingrid’s stomach twisted for lying to him. It was obvious he would be shipping out soon and where could their relationship go? She had no time for relationships.

She didn’t want a relationship.

Her stomach knotted again, and she really hoped it was guilt over lying which was getting to her and not the alcohol. With the way her usual dealings with men went, she might begin ralphing on him at any moment.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Philomena? That’s an interesting name.”

“I know, but I like it.”

He grinned. “I like it too. It suits you.”

Ingrid bit her lip. Oh, buddy, you don’t know the half of it.

“Are you here with your comrades?” she asked, nodding toward the pool tables.

“Comrades? This isn’t Russia.”

Ingrid relaxed a bit at his joke. “Friends, then.”

“Something like that,” he said. “They dragged me out. Told me to relax a little before we ship out tomorrow night.”

“Where to?”

Clint grinned and thanked the bartender as he slid their drinks in front of them. “That’s classified.”

“Really?”

“Well, the exact location and purpose, yes. I’m headed overseas for a year.”

“A year. Well, I wish you all the best.”

He chuckled. “That’s it? Just ‘I wish you all the best.’”

Ingrid blushed again; she could feel it right from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. “What else am I supposed to say to you?”

“It’s not so much the saying as the action.”

“Action?” Ingrid asked, confused.

“How about a kiss?”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Pardon?”

“You know, for good luck before deployment.”

“That is the cheesiest pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” Ingrid laughed. “Seriously, that’s … bad.”

“Oh, so men try to pick you up all the time.”

“Well, I have been a victim of worse attempts.”

“Go on. Tell me the worst pick-up line you’ve ever heard.”

Ingrid’s gaze narrowed. “I’m not sure if I should tell you, you could use it as ammunition on some unsuspecting female.”

“I cross my heart I won’t.” And as if to prove a point, he did just that. “Now, tell me.”

“Just call me milk, I’ll do your body good!”

He burst out laughing. “Okay, that’s terrible.”

Ingrid shrugged. “See, I told you. I hear some of the worst pick-up lines.”

Clint grinned. “Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Trying what?”

He leaned in closer, his blue irises rimmed with the darkest shade of blue, making the color even more mesmerizing. “For trying to steal a kiss from a beautiful, sexy woman like you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist.” There was a sparkle in his eye, one of devilment.