The Doctor's Baby Secret (2 page)

She was playing him at his own game. He liked her more already.

She kept talking. ‘I don't believe we met during your assessment process.' She gave a little wave of her hand. ‘Or maybe we did and I've just forgotten.'

He could feel the immediate surge of adrenaline. She was baiting him—deliberately. Letting him think that he was forgettable. He didn't have any doubt that she would have remembered him, just as he would have remembered her.

She straightened her shoulders, unwittingly thrusting her chest towards him. ‘But I'm here today and have the greatest pleasure in letting you know that you've made it through the astronaut selection process and have been selected as one of the candidates. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell.'

She didn't look as if this was the greatest pleasure of her life. Instead the end of her nose had started to turn slightly pink—as if the Nevada sun had managed to do its damage already. And the words sounded rehearsed—even a little forced.

‘Thanks,' he said briskly as he turned to walk away. His stomach gave a little flip. It didn't matter that this was the news he'd been waiting to hear since he was eight years old. It didn't matter that he'd taken the time to follow in his father's and grandfather's footsteps, becoming a navy pilot first. It didn't matter that his other big love—microbiology—had taken a back seat for the last few years. Astronaut training had always been the golden ticket, the ultimate goal.

In all his dreams of this moment, he had imagined himself with a squadron of men, yelling and whooping at the news. But this day was a little different from what he'd expected. He'd been confident. He'd been sure he would qualify. He knew he'd aced most of the tests and he was at his peak of fitness right now. There wasn't a single medical reason to keep him on this planet.

So, why wasn't he being more gracious about this?

It was that dang woman. She was causing crazy, distracting thoughts in his head. He was thrown off his game. Austin Mitchell was used to being completely in control. Usually everyone around him was singing to his tune. Dr Carter seemed like the kind of woman who was only interested in her own tune. She wouldn't be swayed by a duet with him. And that kind of irked too. Austin Mitchell always got the girl.

‘Lieutenant. Lieutenant!' The last one was a yell. He could hear the rapid fire of her stiletto heels across the concrete. It almost sounded like a run.

Her hand reached for his shoulder and she pulled him around sharply. Being manhandled by a woman. This was a first. And he liked it.

Fire was sparking from her eyes. ‘I wasn't finished.'

Wow. He liked her like this. All simmering rage, with colour flushing into her cheeks. He knew he could be infuriating. He'd infuriated everyone from janitors to admirals, and all the people in between. He gave a nonchalant shrug. ‘Sorry, I thought you were.'

She sucked in a breath and drew herself up. It was all he could do not to allow his eyes to divert to those straining breasts. Pink satin really suited her skin tone and complemented the dark suit.

She thrust a large brown envelope towards him. ‘Your papers with your instructions. You've to report to Houston, Texas at zero eight hundred hours on August the tenth.' She inclined her head a little. ‘I trust you are able to follow instructions.'

He gave a little smile. ‘Only the important ones.'

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘Lieutenant, do you know that as an astronaut trainee you're assigned an overseeing officer?'

He blinked. He'd researched just about everything, but this was something he'd forgotten about in amongst all the other stuff. He gave a brief nod. ‘Of course.'

She smiled. A wide, slightly wicked smile that made her eyes gleam. ‘You'll be pleased to hear you've got the toughest officer of all.'

‘And who might that be?'

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh, that, Lieutenant Commander, would be me. See you in Houston.' And she turned on her heel and left.

CHAPTER TWO

A
USTIN
PULLED
UP
a stool next to Michael at the bar and they clinked their beer bottles together. ‘Here's to the next eighteen months.' Michael smiled. He hadn't stopped smiling since they'd met a few hours ago—he was still getting over the delight of being selected for the programme.

Austin took a long slow drink of his beer. The bar was packed. And judging from the photos on the walls it seemed it was a long-time favourite of the astronauts based in Houston, Texas. He tried not to stare but it was difficult—he'd followed the careers of most of these astronauts at one point. He'd even done a school project on the first moon landing. Space had always been the dream and these guys were his real-life heroes.

A tune started cranking out from the old-style jukebox in the corner of the room. It was probably older than him and he couldn't help but smile as the lyrics of ‘You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin'' echoed around the room. There were murmurs beside him as people started to sing along.

The door swung open, letting in a bright streak of orange sunset. He recognised the silhouette straight away. Curves, curves and more curves.

She was wearing a dark suit similar to the one she'd had on the other day. A one-button jacket accentuating her waist and breasts and a knee-skimming skirt. Her blonde hair was smooth and sleek today—he thought he preferred it windswept and interesting, as it had been that first day.

She walked straight over to the bar and nodded at the barman, who seemed to know her drink. He set down a glass in front of her, which she picked up before heading off to one of the booths to sit next to the other instructors.

Michael bumped his elbow. ‘Which one is she, then?'

Austin took another swig of beer. ‘That's Dr Corrine Carter—one of the medical team.'

Michael frowned. ‘Corrine Carter. That's quite a sharp name. Sounds edgy.'

Austin watched as she glided into the leather seats in the booth. ‘I don't think so,' he said smoothly. ‘It looks all curves to me.'

The bartender came back and smiled. ‘Well, I guess it's you, then.'

The two heads turned to him. ‘What do you mean?' asked Michael.

The bartender nodded at Austin. ‘Every year, one of the astronaut candidates asks one of the instructors to dance. It's a tradition.' He smiled at Austin. ‘Looks like it's going to be you.'

Austin shook his head. ‘I don't think so.'

One of the other candidates—Taryn—leaned on the bar. She nodded. ‘I think I've heard of this before.' Her eyes connected with Austin's. ‘I think he's serious.' She glanced over at Corrine and smiled as she took a swig of her drink. ‘What's wrong, Bates, you scared?'

Every other candidate's head turned. It seemed as if the bartender had their full attention.

Austin tried not to smile. The girl was good. She already knew how to press all his buttons. He'd have to watch her in future.

The bartender laughed. He must have seen this all before. And Taryn almost made it sound like a dare. ‘Just be thankful for equal opportunities.' He winked at Austin. ‘One year it was all male candidates and all male instructors.'

The candidates around burst out laughing as Austin pushed the bar stool back and stood up. He put his bottle of beer back on the bar. He glanced over at Corrine. She was in mid conversation with her colleagues, her blonde hair sitting perfectly on her shoulders. She'd slipped off her jacket and was wearing a pale blue short-sleeved fitted shirt. He could see her defined, tanned arms and her long fingers playing in the condensation on the side of her glass. That simple act sent little pulses to places it shouldn't.

He raised his eyebrows, straightened his uniform and gave a cheeky smile to his colleagues. ‘I'm never one to step away from a challenge,' he said confidently.

His colleagues whoop-whooped around him. It was bravado. But only he knew that. He was pretty sure what was going to happen next.

Michael grinned. ‘Watch out, Bates. That's a slippery slope you're on.'

Austin blinked and took a final drink of his beer. ‘I know,' he said, smiling as he walked over to the booth.

* * *

She'd seen him as soon as she'd entered the bar. It was amazing how supersonic your vision could become when you focused on not looking at someone.
Really
focused on not looking at someone. It was much harder than you thought.

The gin wasn't nearly as refreshing as she wanted it to be. Usually just a few sips made her chill. Tonight she was wound up tighter than a coiled spring. She shuffled along next to the other instructors, slipped off her suit jacket and tried to focus on what they were saying.

‘His points were off the chart.'

‘He really scored that highly?'

She took another sip of her gin. ‘Who are we talking about?'

‘Bates. Austin Mitchell. Also known as Superboy.'

Great. Perfect. The last person she wanted to talk about. ‘I wouldn't exactly call him a boy.'

Marcia, one of the other instructors, raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Then just what would you call him?'

The other instructors started laughing good-humouredly. Frank, the guy on her left, nudged her. ‘You gave him the news—how was he?'

Corrine tried not to look flustered and she remembered exactly how he'd looked in that dark hangar with his smouldering eyes. ‘A pain in the neck. He's too confident.'

‘Aren't they all?' Marcia laughed.

Corrine shook her head. ‘No. Not at all. Lisa Kravitz the school teacher—she didn't expect it at all. She was totally stunned. Lewis Donnell, the marine—he and his whole unit couldn't have made more noise if they'd tried.'

Marcia looked at her curiously. ‘So what did Bates do that was so different?'

Corrine licked her lips. The mixture of gin and cherry ChapStick wasn't exactly enticing. She was still annoyed by his less than enthusiastic reaction. ‘Nothing. That was exactly the point. Nothing. It was like he'd expected it all along. I mean, there's no way anyone could be that confident. There are a thousand different reasons a candidate wouldn't be selected for the programme.'

Adam—the oldest instructor and a former astronaut himself—gave a secret kind of smile. ‘I don't know. Sometimes that's the best attitude. The winning attitude. You don't have room in your mind to think it won't actually happen.'

Corrine sighed and ran her finger around the edge of her glass. She'd changed her mind about the gin. A spritzer would have hit the mark much better. She reached over for an empty wine glass on the table and filled it up with some white wine sitting in a cooler next to Marcia.

‘What's the deal with the call sign anyway? Shouldn't it be something much cooler?'

‘Like what?' Frank took a swig of his beer and shifted in his seat.

‘You know, like Maverick or Viper or Cougar or... Lightning.' She was grasping at straws now.

Frank shook his head. ‘You watch way too many movies, Corrine.'

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘But why Bates? It's not anything like his name. And it's kind of boring.'

Frank laughed. ‘Oh, that's easy.' Then he shook his head. ‘And it's certainly not boring.'

She wrinkled her nose. Frank had been a Top Gun instructor too. Maybe it was some weird navy thing she didn't know about.

He held out his hand towards her. ‘Let me expand it a little for you. Bates.
Norman Bates.
'

Corrine blinked and glanced from person to person around the table. Everyone else seemed to have caught on immediately. ‘What do you mean? That he's crazy?'

The others started to laugh.

‘But that's impossible. Our pilots undergo complete psychological evaluations. We can't have anyone that's a risk taker. That could compromise the mission.'

Adam shook his head. ‘Oh, he's not crazy. But he's made some of the gutsiest flight moves I've ever seen. That's how he earned his call sign. And we need people that can make good decisions under pressure—even when it seems like the chips are down. If Austin Mitchell makes it to the space station I think he'll be a great asset to our programme.' He raised his glass. ‘I'd even take bets on him making it.'

Marcia shook her head. ‘I'm not taking that bet. He's too good.'

Frank shook his head too. ‘Me either. I know a shoo-in when I see one.'

Corrine started to get annoyed. Everyone seemed to think this guy was great. They hadn't seen the gleam of arrogance in his eyes. The one that had prickled her senses in all the wrong places. There were some catcalls from the other side of the bar. A little tremor danced down her spine but there was no way she was turning around.

‘Uh-oh.' Marcia smiled as she pushed her glass around the table. ‘It looks like Superboy is on his way over.'

She couldn't help it. Corrine turned towards the bar. Austin Mitchell was walking straight towards them. No. Straight towards
her
. His eyes locked with hers. That darn white uniform showed off the width of his shoulders and chest. The gold on his epaulettes gleamed at her. But the thing that freaked her out most was the confident grin on his face.

He held out his hand towards her as he gave a brief nod to the others at the table. ‘Dr Carter. Would you like to dance?'

Her mouth almost fell open. It was right up there with things least likely to expect.

She almost choked. ‘What?' She could hear a stifled snigger behind her.

She looked around the bar. The music was audible, but low—and there was no dance floor. It just wasn't that kind of place.

His bright blue eyes were fixed on hers. She hadn't been able to see them properly in the dark hangar. Which was probably just as well, because right now she was getting the full hypnotic effect. The artificial lights in the bar seemed perfect for showing them at their best.

‘Dance,' he said calmly, as if she'd misunderstood.

There was a nudge at her back. Frank was almost willing her to go. But the nudge lit a little flare inside her. How dared he? How dared he approach her so directly in front of all her colleagues—his instructors—and practically ask her out? Didn't the guy have any decorum?

‘No,' she said quickly. ‘I don't want to dance.' She couldn't hide the disdain in her voice. The coil inside was tightening. She'd wanted to relax tonight—not put herself in an uncomfortable position.

Her earlier comment about him not being a boy had already been misinterpreted by her colleagues. Now, they might actually think something was going on. That was the last thing she needed. She'd only been at WSSA for a few years. This was her first astronaut candidate selection. Her position and job meant everything to her. She'd put her life on hold for it. She didn't want anything to interfere.

Austin was still standing smiling at her. It was almost as if he hadn't heard her say no.

She stood up quickly and tugged at her skirt, pulling it back into position. She gave him a sharp stare. ‘That would be a no, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. Now, if you'd excuse me, myself and your other instructors need to have conversations that you can't be party to.'

She gave him a nod as she brushed past. It was important that he respect her position on the team. It was important that he realised she wouldn't be compromised. No matter how good he looked in that uniform. She could see all the expectant faces of the rest of the candidates in the background. They were watching with interest. Waiting to see what she would do. Did any of them actually think she might say yes?

The hairs on his arms came into contact with her skin.
Ignore it.
Her brain repeated the message as she walked towards the ladies' room. Her skin was on fire. A thousand little caterpillars were currently marching across that tiny patch of skin. She couldn't help it—her other hand automatically reached across and rubbed it as she banged the ladies' room door open with her hip.

Cold water. That was what she needed right now. Anything that would stop the persistent fire caused by Austin Mitchell from circulating around her body.

* * *

There was a whoop behind him as Corrine brushed past him as if he didn't exist. He'd seen it. That little flicker in her eyes. It wasn't panic. She wasn't the type. The disbelief he'd almost expected, but hesitation he hadn't. Was there the tiniest chance she might have said yes?

He shrugged and gave a rueful smile to the other instructors. Adam winked. He knew exactly what was going on. Traditions didn't just exist amongst Top Gun pilots—WSSA candidates had a whole book of their own.

Frank stood up. ‘Excuse me, folks. Back in a bit.' His face looked a bit pinched.

Austin watched him head to the gents'. Was he annoyed with him? He moved back and put a twenty on the bar. ‘Get another round,' he said to Michael.

Michael lifted the twenty and waved to the bartender. ‘Crashed and burned.' He laughed at Austin. ‘Get used to it. Corrine Carter looked mad.'

Austin stared at the swinging door of the gents'. It was weird. His parents used to tease him as a kid—they'd told him that his spider sense was tingling whenever he'd had an instinct about things. They'd learned quickly he was always right—even when everything seemed fine. It had served him well on his tours of duty and on his test flights. Knowing when something just wasn't quite right with a plane or mission had saved him on more than one occasion.

And tonight his spider sense was busy creating a full-on web.

He strode towards the gents'. What was the worst that could happen? Frank would tear a few strips off him for his stunt. He was a big boy. He could take it easily.

The door swung open. Frank hadn't even made it to a cubicle. His hand was leaning on the wall above one of the urinals. Austin quickly averted his eyes—last thing he needed to do was watch another man take a leak.