Pregnant with the Soldier's Son. Amy Ruttan

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.

      “Hey, at least you were honest and you didn’t try to pick me up with that milk line.” Ingrid finished the rest of her drink. “To be honest, I thought about granting you that boon.” She could almost hear her rational side screaming, while the rest of her was shouting for joy.

       Now it was definitely the liquor talking.

      Maybe it wasn’t booze. Maybe it was all her inhibitions just letting go.

      “Really?” Clint asked. “I am intrigued.”

      Steeling up as much courage as she could muster, she reached forward, grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss. What she wasn’t expecting was the electricity. The heat and desire she was experiencing now. It set her reeling and her body began to melt into a warm pile of goo as the kiss deepened and turned into something raw and powerful. His tongue pushed past her lips and tangled with hers, and she heard him moan as his arms came around her body. He was so strong.

      The few previous times she’d kissed men had been nice, but this was something different.

      This was something dangerous.

      The moment her lips touched his, it sent him off-kilter a bit.

      He wasn’t prepared for the shock. He wasn’t ready to have his blood ignite like his veins had been drenched in gasoline.

      Forward women weren’t his thing. If a woman moved too fast, he pulled away.

      He liked to be in control. He liked to take his time and seduce.

      Sex to him was something more than just a quick roll in the hay.

      So when she grabbed him and pulled him into that scorching kiss, he should’ve pushed her away. He should’ve resisted, but he couldn’t make himself do it.

      He was shipping out tomorrow, and he had no plans to seek out company tonight. He hadn’t even planned to leave the base, until his buddies had made him.

      All he wanted to do was enjoy a beer and not think about how his mother had cried last week when she’d heard about his deployment. Or how he was going to miss his niece’s first birthday. Or beer, how he’d miss good old American beer, which was why he’d finally agreed to come to the bar.

      He had come for beer. At least he could indulge in that one last time.

      Then he’d felt someone’s gaze on him and foolishly he’d looked. The sight of her had taken his breath away. Even in the dim lighting of the bar he could see her hair shone like gold.

      There was an air of confidence about her but also something else, a barrier that held the world at bay. If he had more time, he very much wanted to break that wall down.

      In her, Clint had seen a challenge, and before he’d been able to stop himself, he’d moved over to her. Drawn to her like a moth to a flame, and when he’d been ensnared, when he’d seen those blue-gray eyes, he’d hit on her. Something had compelled him to. Idiot that he was.

      Never in a million years had he expected her to kiss him, and though he should pull away, he couldn’t. He was drowning in her sweetness, her softness compelling him to claim her, to hold her in his arms and protect her forever.

      He wanted her badly.

      She broke the connection first, dropping her head so her forehead brushed his chin and he drank in the intoxicating scent of her hair. The scent of something clean and floral.

      Feminine.

      It made him want her all the more and he let his hands travel down her back, her body trembling under his touch.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breathless.

      “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

      When Ingrid looked again and met his gaze there was something in his eyes, a twinkle that gave Ingrid the distinct impression that she was prey in his predatory gaze,