The Doctor's Baby Secret
Auteur
Scarlet Wilson
Lezers
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Hoofdstukken
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HarlequinChapter One
âHERE YOU GO, Dr Carter. Your successful candidates.â
Corrineâs heart gave a little flutter at the sight of the four buff folders in front of her. This was one of the best parts of her job. Of the thousands of applications received from a wide range of peopleâboth civilian and militaryâonly a few were chosen for the intensive Astronaut Candidate Programme. She smiled and fingered the folders on her desk. These applicants had gone through weeks of intensive interviews and medical and psychological screening. As part of the medical team at the Worldwide Science and Space Agency, Corrine had already met some of the successful candidates.
âWhere am I going, then?â
Every candidate got told in person if theyâd been successful by a member of the team at WSSA. Sheâd been here three years and had been waiting for the chance to do this. The training programme only accepted applications every few years.
Her secretary handed her the schedule. âCalifornia, Washington, Idaho and Nevada.â
Her colleague Blair stuck his head around the door. âYou got yours too?â He was carrying his folders in his arms. âWho did you get?â He crossed the office in two strides and spread the folders out to see the names.
Almost immediately he started laughing.
âWhat? What is it?â Corrine looked at the names in front of her. Three were familiar to her. One was a civilian school teacher. One a marine. One an engineer. Blair picked up the last folder before she even had a chance to read the name.
âYou got the Top Gun? Good luck with him.â
She snatched the folder back out of his hand. âThe Top Gun?â She stared at the name, Austin Mitchell. There were so many candidates there was no chance of meeting them all. She frowned. âWhatâs wrong with Austin Mitchell, then?â She opened his folder and started flicking through the pages. Distinction. Merit. Top scores on just about all his testing. The guy seemed more or less perfect.
Blair shook his head and laughed again. âYouâll see.â
* * *
Austin checked his instruments one final time and gave a cheeky smile.
âBates, donât you dare,â came over the intercom.
His laughter had already started. Some traditions would never die. He was already descending for landingâhe just wasnât exactly over the landing strip he should be.
âBates, Iâm warning you...â
The adrenaline was coursing through his bodyâjust as it always did when he got behind the controls of a plane. But this wasnât just any plane. This was a brand-new prototype of the F-35. A modified stealth bomber. People wouldnât even hear it coming until it was directly overhead. Including his colleagues in the control tower.
He gave a final check of his instrumentsâhe was the only aviator in the sky right now. The way was clear.
As he positioned the plane he glanced around the surrounding area. There was a reason the Top Gun aviators trained in the middle of the Nevada desert. No one to disturb.
There was a little speck on the landscape ahead. A member of the military personnel headed towards the tower. He hoped they were prepared.
He manoeuvred the F-35 into perfect position. âHeâs doing it again, folks. Hold onto your coffee cups.â There was a resigned sigh over the intercom.
âYee-haw!â he yelled as he passed twenty feet above the tower. Buzzing the tower was one of the perks of the job. Maybe not for themâbut definitely for him. And if his luck played out the way he hoped it would, this could be his last time.
* * *
She was halfway up the stairs when the noise wave hit. The plane had passed overhead in the blink of an eye. They didnât call them stealth bombers for nothing. Her fingers tightened their grip on the rail just as the whole building rattled and the noise washed over her.
Did people still do that crazy stuff? Surely that was just for the movies?
The sand swirled around her, pulling her carefully styled bun out of its pins and sending stray tendrils across her eyes along with a choking mouthful of sand. She coughed and spluttered, then tried to brush some of the sand off her black knee-length skirt and jacket.
Ignoring the slight shake of her legs, she thumped up the rest of the stairs and keyed in her security code, throwing the door wide. âWho is that idiot?â she yelled.
All heads in the room turned towards her. She gulped. Not exactly the best entrance in the world.
One of the controllers stood up and walked towards her. âAnd you are?â
It was clear she had security clearance or she wouldnât be here. That didnât mean that anyone would know who she was.
She covered her mouth, coughing again, and stared at his outstretched hand. She reached into her bag and pulled out some sanitiser, giving her hands a quick rub before she shook his hand. âHi, Iâm Dr Corrine Carter from the Worldwide Science and Space Agency. Iâm looking for Austin Mitchell. I believe heâs one of the instructors.â She gestured back towards the gate. âThey sent me over here.â
There was the tiniest raise of his eyebrow, but he disguised it well. The guy gave a nod and a firm shake of her hand. âLuke Kennedy, Air Force Controller.â
The motion caused a sprinkling of sand to land on the carpet. She bit her bottom lip and took off her jacket, giving it another shake. Windswept and dishevelled wasnât exactly the look she wanted when she told the candidate of his success. She held up her hand and shook her head. âWhat on earth was that about? Surely these guys are past all the cheap stunts?â
She looked around the office, trying to guess which one of the uniformed personnel was Austinâthe guy whoâd aced practically every test during the astronaut application procedures.
Her eyes were drawn to a plane landing on the adjacent runway. The plane that had nearly made her land on her butt in the corridor.
Luke Kennedy smiled. He followed her line of sight. âItâs kind of a tradition for the Top Gun instructors.â
âDoesnât it drive you crazy?â She stared at a few tiny blotches of coffee on his shirt.
âOh, it drives me crazy all right.â His accent was so thick it was almost a drawl. âYou said you were looking for Bates? I mean, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell?â
She nodded, then frowned. âBates? Why do you call him Bates?â She glanced at the file in her hand. âThat isnât in his medical file.â
His smile reached from ear to ear. âItâs his call sign. Iâll let you find out for yourself why heâs called that.â He pointed across the tarmac to the plane on the far side. âWell, I guess you found him. Give him a few minutes. Heâll take the plane back to the hangar.â
Corrineâs mouth fell open. âThatâs him?â She gestured towards the plane, which had safely landed and was slowly making its way back to the hangar.
Luke Kennedy turned back to his chair. âThatâs him all right. Good luck.â
She bit her lip. That was the second person to wish her luck talking to Austin Mitchell. What was with this guy?
She put her jacket back on and left the control tower. One of the ground crew gave her the go-ahead to cross the tarmac and enter the hangar.
This was her last candidate. The teacher had cartwheeled down the corridor of the school she worked at when sheâd got the news sheâd been accepted. The engineer had stood up and announced his success to all his colleagues to much celebration. Even her marine had whoop-whooped when heâd been told and then proceeded to jump off one of the pieces of training equipment and body surf across the upheld arms of his colleagues. What would a Top Gun instructor do?
This guy was a little unusual. He hadnât just been selected because he was a pilotâheâd also been selected because he had a masterâs degree in microbiology. It seemed heâd completed his studies and immediately signed up for the navy doing two tours of duty in Afghanistan as a pilot before being selected for the Top Gun programme.
Lots of the work on the International Space Station was research based. Experiments could be carried out in a non-gravity environment with cells reacting in different ways. This guy wouldnât just be able to pilot, heâd also be able to take a lead on some of the experiments on board. He would be a real asset to the team.
She could see the heat rising from the tarmac as she crossed it. The sand was still whipping past her eyes. What on earth had she done with her sunglasses? The heat in the Nevada desert was stifling. An uncomfortable trickle of sweat ran between her shoulder blades. It didnât matter what the TV adverts saidâno antiperspirant could work here.
The walk to the hangar was longer than she expected. Corrine liked to keep up a pristine appearance. Working at one of the most respected agencies in the world meant she constantly felt the need to keep up appearances. But the swirling sand and winds seemed to have other ideas for her.
Her footsteps echoed as she stepped into the hangar. She squinted as her eyes tried to adjust from the glaring sun to the darkened hangar. The place was surprisingly quiet.
A shadow caught her eye. A guy in grey overalls pushing a set of steps away from the plane that had just entered.
She walked swiftly towards it. Her footsteps slowed. The pilot hadnât left the aircraft. He was walking around it, touching it, talking softly under his breath as he did so. She smiled. Sheâd heard that pilots became attached to their planes but sheâd always thought that was an urban mythâsomething reserved for the bomber pilots of years gone by.
Her eyes finally adjusted to the gloom. He had his helmet in one hand and she could see the embroidery on his flight suit.
She planted a hand on her hip. âWell, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell, I guess you had better tell me why your call sign is Bates.â
* * *
Heâd spotted her as soon as she entered the hangar and listened to the click of her heels as sheâd crossed the concrete.
The sight was a little unusual for around here. He usually flew with a female radio intercept officer. But Morah was always dressed in her flight suitâhe didnât think heâd ever seen her in a skirt. Certainly not a skirt like this. One that accentuated the flare of her hips and drew attention to a pair of very shapely legs.
His lips curled upwards. The black suit was smart. Appropriate. Covering every single part that should be covered but revealing every curve. The pink silk shirt strained slightly across her breasts, willing him to tug it out from where it was tucked in around her waist. Then it could be equally as dishevelled as her windswept hair.
Heâd known why she was here from the second heâd seen her. People didnât visit Naval Air Station Fallon without good reason. It was too hot. Too inaccessible.
Heâd met a lot of people at WSSA during his application process. But heâd never met her beforeâheâd have remembered.
Her skin was gleaming with the compulsory sheen of sweat that everyone around here permanently wore. He gave a little smile as she neared. His hand was still touching the body of the plane. He always did this. Part of his ritual. Didnât matter how mundane or routine some of the flying might be, he always gave a little thanks when he reached the ground safely.
Two tours of duty had made him appreciate life. As a Top Gun instructor he wasnât expected to tour again. He was expected to train other pilots to be the best they could be. Heâd trained forty so far. But as much as he loved to fly, as much as he loved the buzz, space had always been his ultimate goal. Now, finally, it was almost in his grasp.
Maybe it was the fact that he knew what she was about to say. Failure had never been an option for him. But something about this woman made him stop and stare. Stop, and almost hold his breath. He could practically see little sparkling stars around this beauty. She looked like a movie-star princess. And since when did he ever think like that?
It must be the moment. The expectation that he was finally on the threshold of his ultimate goal. It couldnât possibly be anything else.
He smiled at the sound of her voice. She had a twang heâd never heard before. Cute.
He spun around to face her just as a soft waft of her perfume drifted across the hot air between them. It wasnât the usual kind of perfume. More citrusy, with an edge of spice.
He kept chewing his gum. It helped him concentrate on training exercises. Even in the dim light of the hangar he could see she was a knockout. The curves had been visible from afar, but up close and personal she was younger than he thought. Fresh, unlined skin with a little touch of make-up. She probably hadnât reckoned on the total sunblock she should be wearing in Nevada. Her blonde hair was straight in some parts, curled in others, with one part that seemed determined to flap around her eyes. It was obviously driving her crazy.
He gave the plane a final tap and stepped towards her. He couldnât help the smile that formed on his face. âCall signs are kind of personal. Youâll have to know me a whole lot better before I tell you why Iâm called Bates.â
He probably shouldnât have done it. But he couldnât resist the teasing edge in his voice. Who wouldnât want to flirt with a woman who looked like this?
A hint of colour appeared in her cheeks. But instead of looking uncomfortable she was staring him straight in the eye. It seemed as though the mystery lady liked a challengeâa bit like himself.
She held out her hand towards him. âDr Corrine Carter, part of the medical assessment team at WSSA.â
A doctor. Interesting. Maybe she was a little older than she actually looked. WSSA wouldnât take a newbie just out of school. There had to be some experience under that non-existent belt.
Her handshake was firm. She was used to working with military staff and obviously used to holding her own. He pulled his hand back and folded his arms across his chest. She wasnât military, she was civilian. There was no need to salute.
âSo, what can I do for you, Dr Carter?â He liked the way that sounded, the way it rolled off the tongue. He could get used to saying that. If she was conscious of his eyes skimming her figure she didnât flicker. Instead she stood for a second, her gaze pointedly holding his before she took a long time looking down the length of his body and then moving up slowly across his chest, shoulders and head again. Kaboom.
She was playing him at his own game. He liked her more already.
She kept talking. âI donât believe we met during your assessment process.â She gave a little wave of her hand. âOr maybe we did and Iâve just forgotten.â
He could feel the immediate surge of adrenaline. She was baiting himâdeliberately. Letting him think that he was forgettable. He didnât 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. âBut Iâm here today and have the greatest pleasure in letting you know that youâve made it through the astronaut selection process and have been selected as one of the candidates. Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell.â
She didnât look as if this was the greatest pleasure of her life. Instead the end of her nose had started to turn slightly pinkâas if the Nevada sun had managed to do its damage already. And the words sounded rehearsedâeven a little forced.
âThanks,â he said briskly as he turned to walk away. His stomach gave a little flip. It didnât matter that this was the news heâd been waiting to hear since he was eight years old. It didnât matter that heâd taken the time to follow in his fatherâs and grandfatherâs footsteps, becoming a navy pilot first. It didnât matter that his other big loveâmicrobiologyâhad 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 heâd expected. Heâd been confident. Heâd been sure he would qualify. He knew heâd aced most of the tests and he was at his peak of fitness right now. There wasnât a single medical reason to keep him on this planet.
So, why wasnât 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 wouldnât be swayed by a duet with him. And that kind of irked too. Austin Mitchell always got the girl.
âLieutenant. Lieutenant!â 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. âI wasnât finished.â
Wow. He liked her like this. All simmering rage, with colour flushing into her cheeks. He knew he could be infuriating. Heâd infuriated everyone from janitors to admirals, and all the people in between. He gave a nonchalant shrug. âSorry, I thought you were.â
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. âYour papers with your instructions. Youâve to report to Houston, Texas at zero eight hundred hours on August the tenth.â She inclined her head a little. âI trust you are able to follow instructions.â
He gave a little smile. âOnly the important ones.â
She folded her arms across her chest. âLieutenant, do you know that as an astronaut trainee youâre assigned an overseeing officer?â
He blinked. Heâd researched just about everything, but this was something heâd forgotten about in amongst all the other stuff. He gave a brief nod. âOf course.â
She smiled. A wide, slightly wicked smile that made her eyes gleam. âYouâll be pleased to hear youâve got the toughest officer of all.â
âAnd who might that be?â
She raised her eyebrows. âOh, that, Lieutenant Commander, would be me. See you in Houston.â And she turned on her heel and left.
