Читать книгу A Daddy For Christmas: Yuletide Baby Surprise / Maybe This Christmas...? / The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby - Алисон Робертс - Страница 14

Eight

Rowan braced his feet as the auburn-haired whirlwind hit him full force. He’d spoken with his business partner and the partner’s wife, Hillary, about the current situation. But he’d assured them Elliot Starc had things under control. Apparently his friends weren’t taking him at his word.

Who else was waiting in the suite to blindside him? So much for romance tonight.

“Hillary.” Rowan hugged his friend fast before pulling away. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you, but what are you doing here tonight?”

She patted his face. “You should know that word spreads fast among the Brotherhood and everyone available is eager to help.” She glanced over her shoulder at Mari and the baby. “And of course, we’re insanely curious about your new situation.”

Mari looked back and forth between them, a look of confusion on her face. “The Brotherhood?”

“A nickname for some of my high school classmates,” Rowan explained. “We used to call ourselves the Alpha Brotherhood.”

They still did, actually, after a few drinks over a game of cards. The name had started as a joke between them, a way of thumbing their noses at the frat-boy types, and after a while, the label stuck.

Hillary thrust a hand toward Mari. “Hi, I’m Hillary Donavan. I’m married to Rowan’s former classmate and present business partner, Troy.”

Mari’s eyebrows arched upward. “Oh, your husband is the computer mogul.”

Hillary took over pushing the stroller and preceded them into the suite as if it was her hotel penthouse. “You can go ahead and say it. My husband is the Robin Hood Hacker.”

“I wasn’t...” Mari stuttered, following the baby buggy deeper into the room. “I wouldn’t...uh...”

“It’s okay,” Hillary said with a calm smile that had smoothed awkward moments in her days as an event planner for high-powered D.C. gatherings. “You can relax. Everyone knows my husband’s history.”

Mari smiled apologetically, leaning into the stroller to pull the sleeping baby out and cradle her protectively in her arms. “I’m not particularly good with chitchat.”

“That’s all right. I talk plenty for two people.” She cupped the back of the infant’s head. “What an adorable baby. Issa, right?”

“Yes.” Rowan pushed the stroller to a corner, lightweight gauzy pink blanket trailing out the side. “Did you see the gossip rags or did the Brotherhood tell you that, too?”

Hillary made herself at home on the leather sofa. “Actually, I’m here to help. Troy and Rowan are more than just business partners on that computer diagnostics project you so disapprove of—” Hillary winked to take the sting out the dig “—they’re also longtime friends. I have some last-minute Christmas shopping to do for those tough-to-buy-for people in my life, and voilà. Coming here seemed the perfect thing to do.”

The pieces came together in Rowan’s mind, Hillary’s appearance now making perfect sense. While the Brotherhood kept their Interpol work under wraps, Hillary knew about her husband’s freelance agent work and Salvatore had even taken her into the fold for occasional missions. Now she was here. He should have thought of it himself, if his brain hadn’t been scrambled by a certain sexy research scientist.

Hillary would make the perfect bodyguard for Mari and Issa. No one would question her presence and she added a layer of protection to this high-profile situation.

Although sometimes the whole Interpol connection also came with dangers. God, he was in the middle of an impossible juggling act.

The baby started fussing and Rowan extended his arms to take her. Mari hesitated, tucking the baby closer. Rowan lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“Mari? I can take her.” He lifted the baby from Mari’s arms. “You two keep talking.”

“Wow.” Hillary laughed. “You sure handle that tiny tyke well. No wonder you’re dubbed one of the world’s hottest bachelors. Snap a photo of you now and you’ll need your own bodyguard.”

Mari’s smile went tight and Rowan wondered... Holy hell, she couldn’t be jealous. Could she? Was that the same look he’d seen drifting through her eyes when Hillary had hugged him earlier? He wanted her to desire him, but he also wanted—needed—for her to trust him.

“Enough, Hillary. You were talking about Troy’s computer search....”

“Right—” she turned back to Mari “—and you’re taking care of the baby, Rowan. So vamoose. Go fill out your list for Santa. I’ve got this.”

Rowan cocked an eyebrow over being so summarily dismissed. And putting Issa in the bassinet in another room would give him the perfect excuse to slip away and call Troy.

Not to mention time to regroup for the next phase of winning over Mari. He’d made progress with her today.

Now he just had to figure out how to persuade his friends to give him enough space to take that romancing to the next level.

* * *

Mari sank to the edge of the sofa. Her head was spinning at how fast things were changing around her. Not to mention how fast this woman was talking.

“Hold on a moment, please.” Mari raised a hand. “What were you saying about computer searches into Issa’s past?”

Hillary dropped into the wide rattan chair beside her. “No worries. It’s all totally legal computer work. I promise. Troy walks on the right side of the law these days. And yes, it’s okay to talk about it. I know about my husband’s past, and I assume you know about Rowan’s. But they’ve both changed. They’re genuinely trying to make amends in more ways than most could imagine.”

Mari blinked in the wake of Hurricane Hillary, confused. Why would Rowan have needed to make amends for anything? Sure, he’d led a troubled life as a teen, but his entire adult life had been a walking advertisement for charity work. Even if she disputed some of his methods, she couldn’t deny his philanthropic spirit. “I’ve read the stories of his good deeds.”

“There’s so much more to Rowan than those stories.”

She knew that already. The press adored him and his work, and she had to admit his clinic had helped many. She just wished they could come to an agreement on how to make his work—the computerized side and even the personal side—more effective. If she could solve that problem, who knew how many more small clinics in stretched-thin outposts of the world would benefit from Rowan’s model of aid?

“Hillary, why are you telling me this?”

“The competitive animosity between the two of you is not a secret.” She tipped her head to the side, twirling a strand of red hair contemplatively. “So I find it strange that you’re here.”

“I’m here for the baby.”

“Really?” Hillary crossed her legs, her eyes glimmering with humor and skepticism. No getting anything past this woman. “There are a million ways the two of you could care for this child other than sharing a suite.”

Mari bristled, already feeling overwhelmed by this confident whirlwind who looked like a Ralph Lauren model in skinny jeans and a poet’s shirt.

Smoothing her hands over her sack dress, Mari sat up stiffly, channeling every regal cell in her body. “This is quite a personal conversation to be having with someone I only just met.”

“You’re right. I apologize if I’ve overstepped.” She held up a hand, diamond wedding band set winking in the sunlight. “I’ve become much more extroverted since marrying Troy. I just wanted you to know Rowan’s a better man than people think. A better man than he knows.”

Great. Someone else pointing out the perfection of Dr. Rowan Boothe. As if Mari didn’t already know. God, how she resented the feelings of insecurity pumping through her. She wanted to be the siren in the peignoir, the confident woman certain that Rowan wanted her with every fiber of his soul. And yes, she knew that was melodramatic and totally unscientific.

Forcing her thoughts to slow and line up logically, she realized that Rowan’s eyes had followed her all day long—no skinny jeans needed. And Hillary was right. He and Mari both could have figured out a dozen different ways to care for this baby and stir publicity without sharing a suite. She was here because she wanted to be and Rowan wanted her here, as well.

No more flirting. No more games. No more holding back. She burned to sleep with Rowan.

The next time she had him alone, she intended to see the seduction through to its full, satisfying conclusion.

* * *

Finally, Rowan closed his suite door after dinner with Hillary, Troy and Elliot. He plowed his hands through his hair as Mari settled the baby for the night in his room.

He appreciated the help of his friends—but by the end of supper he had never been happier to see them all head to their own suites. Troy and Hillary were staying in the suite across the hall. Elliot Starc was a floor below, monitoring the surveillance vans outside the resort.

Rowan was more than a little surprised that his friends felt such a need to rally around him just because another orphan had landed on his doorstep. Issa wasn’t the first—and she certainly wouldn’t be the last—child in need of his patronage.

He suspected his friends’ increased interest had something to do with Mari’s involvement. No doubt he hadn’t been as successful as he would have liked at hiding his attraction to her all these years. They were here out of curiosity as well as genuine caring, stepping up on a personal level, even if Mari didn’t know the full weight of what they brought to the table for security and he wasn’t in a position to tell her.

Now that a story had broken about an orphan at Christmastime, the attention was swelling by the second. Holiday mayhem made it tougher than ever to record all the comings and goings at the resort. Bogus leads were also coming in by the hundreds. So far no sign of a valid tip. Hillary and Troy were rechecking the police work through computer traces, using Interpol databases.

Intellectually, he understood these things took time and persistence, but thinking about the kid’s future, worrying about her, made this more personal than analytical.

Somewhere out there, the baby’s family had to be seeing the news reports. Even if they didn’t want to claim her, surely someone would step forward with information. Even if the answer came in the form of official surrender of parental rights, at least they would know.

He understood full well how family ties didn’t always turn out to be as ideal as one would hope. Memories of his brother’s death, of his parents’ grief and denial burned through him. He charged across the sitting area to the bar. He started to reach for the scotch and stopped himself. After the way his brother died...

Hell, no.

He opted for a mug of fresh local ginger tea and one of the Christmas sugar cookies instead and leaned against the bar, staring out over the water as he bit the frosted tree cookie in half. Tomorrow, he and Mari both had conference presentations, then this weekend, the closing dinner and ball. Time was ticking away for all of them. He had to make the most of every moment. Tomorrow, he’d arranged for a spa appointment for Mari after her last presentation. Surely she would appreciate some privacy after all the scrutiny....

The door from Rowan’s room opened. Mari slid through and closed it quietly after her. “Baby’s sleeping soundly. I would have taken her tonight, you know.”

“Fair is fair,” he said. “We struck a bargain.”

“You’re a stubborn man. But then I understand that trait well.”

Walking toward him, her silvery-gray sheath dress gliding over her sleek figure, she set the nursery monitor on the edge of the bar. Christmas tunes played softly over the airwaves—jazz versions, soft and soothing. Mari had fallen into the habit of setting her iPhone beside the monitor and using the music to reassure herself the listening device was still on.

She poured herself a mug of steaming ginger tea as well, adding milk and honey. Cupping the thick pottery in both hands, she drank half then cradled the mug to her with a sigh.

He skimmed his knuckles along her patrician cheekbones. “Are you okay?”

Nodding, she set aside her glass. “I just didn’t expect the press coverage to be so...comprehensive.”

Was it his imagination or did she lean into his touch.

“You’re a princess. What you do makes the news.” Although even he was surprised at just how intense the media attention had become.

The hotel staff had closed off access to their floor aside from them and the Donavans, a measure taken after a reporter was injured on a window-washing unit trying to get a bonus photo. Rowan rubbed at a kink in the back of his neck, stress-induced from worrying his tail off about all the possible holes in the security. He wasn’t sure he felt comfortable taking Mari and Issa out of the hotel again, even with guards.

“But I wanted to bring positive coverage for Issa. Not all of these cranks...”

And she didn’t know the half of it. Troy had informed him about a handful of the more colorful leads the police hadn’t bothered mentioning. A woman claiming to be Mari’s illegitimate half sister had called to say the baby belonged to her. Another call had come from an area prison with someone saying their infant daughter resembled Issa and she thought it was her twin, whom they’d thought died at birth.

All of which turned out to be false, but there was no need to make Mari more upset by sharing the details. “My contacts will sift through them.”

“Who are these contacts you keep talking about? Like Hillary and her husband?” She picked up the glass again and sipped carefully.

His glass.

His body tightened as her lips pressed to the edge.

He cleared his throat. “I went to a military high school. Makes sense that some of them would end up in law enforcement positions.”

“It was a military reform school.” She eyed him over the rim of the tumbler through long lashes.

“Actually, about half were there because they wanted a future in the military or law enforcement.” He rattled off the details, anything to keep from thinking about how badly he wanted to take that glass from her and kiss her until they both forgot about talking and press conferences. “The rest of us were there because we got into trouble.”

“Your Alpha Brotherhood group—you trust these friends with Issa’s future?”