Читать книгу Yuletide Baby Surprise - Catherine Mann - Страница 11

Three

Pacing in front of the sitting room window, Mari cradled the baby against her shoulder as Rowan talked with the local police. Sure, the infant had seemed three months old when she’d looked at her, but holding her? Little Issa felt younger, more fragile.

Helpless.

So much about this evening didn’t add up. The child had been abandoned yet she seemed well cared for. Beyond her chubby arms and legs, she had neatly trimmed fingernails and toenails. Her clothes were simple, but clean. She smelled freshly bathed. Could she have been kidnapped as revenge on someone? Growing up, Mari had been constantly warned of the dangers of people who would try to hurt her to get back at her father, as well as people would use her to get close to her father. Trusting anyone had been all but impossible.

She shook off the paranoid thoughts and focused on the little life in her arms. Mari stroked the baby’s impossibly soft cheeks, tapped the dimple in her chin. Did she look like her mother or father? Was she missed? Round chocolate-brown eyes blinked up at her trustingly.

Her heart squeezed tight in her chest in a totally illogical way. She’d only just met the child, for heaven’s sake, and she ached to press a kiss to her forehead.

Mari glanced to the side to see if Rowan had observed her weak moment, but he was in the middle of finishing up his phone conversation with the police.

Did he practice looking so hot? Even in jeans, he owned the room. Her eyes were drawn to the breadth of his shoulders, the flex of muscles in his legs as he shuffled from foot to foot, his loafers expensive but well worn. He exuded power and wealth without waste or conspicuous consumption. How could he be such a good man and so annoying at the same time?

Rowan hung up the phone and turned, catching her studying him. He cocked an eyebrow. She forced herself to stare back innocently, her chin tipping even as her body tingled with awareness.

“What did the police say?” she asked casually, swaying from side to side in a way she’d found the baby liked.

“They’re just arriving outside the hotel.” He closed the three feet between them. “They’re on their way up to take her.”

“That’s it?” Her arms tightened around Issa. “She’ll be gone minutes from now? Did they say where they will be sending her? I have connections of my own. Maybe I can help.”

His blue eyes were compassionate, weary. “You and I both already know what will happen to her. She will be sent to a local orphanage while the police use their limited resources to look into her past, along with all the other cases and other abandoned kids they have in their stacks of files to investigate. Tough to hear, I realize. But that’s how it is. We do what we can, when we can.”

“I understand.” That didn’t stop the frustration or the need to change things for this innocent child in her arms and all the children living in poverty in her country.

He scooped the baby from her before she could protest. “But that’s not how it has to be today. We can do something this time.”

“What do you mean?” She crossed her empty arms over her chest, hope niggling at her that Rowan had a reasonable solution.

“We only have a few more minutes before they arrive so I need to make this quick.” He hefted the baby onto his shoulder and rubbed her back in small, hypnotic circles. “I think we should offer to watch Issa.”

Thank heaven he was holding the child because he’d stunned Mari numb. She watched his hand smoothing along the baby’s back and tried to gather her thoughts. “Um, what did you say?”

“We’re both clearly qualified and capable adults.” His voice reverberated in soothing waves. “It would be in the best interest of the child, a great Christmas message of goodwill, for us to keep her.”

Keep her?

Mari’s legs folded out from under her and she sank to the edge of the leather sofa. She couldn’t have heard him right. She’d let her attraction to him distract her. “What did you say?”

He sat beside her, his thigh pressing warm and solid against hers. “We can have temporary custody of her, just for a couple of weeks to give the police a chance to find out if she has biological relatives able to care for her.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Or maybe she had lost hers because she was actually tempted by his crazy plan.

“Not that I know of.”

She pressed the back of her wrist to her forehead, stunned that he was serious. Concerns cycled through her head about work and the hoopla of a media circus. “This is a big decision for both of us, something that should be thought over carefully.”

“In medicine I have to think fast. I don’t always have the luxury of a slow and steady scientific exam,” he said, with a wry twist to his lips. “Years of going with my gut have honed my instincts, and my instincts say this is the right thing to do.”

Her mind settled on his words and while she never would have gotten to that point on her own, the thought of this baby staying with him rather than in some institution was appealing. “So you’ll be her temporary guardian?”

“Our case is more powerful if we offer to do this as a partnership. Both of us.” His deep bass and logic drew her in. “Think of the positive PR you’ll receive. Your father’s press corps will be all over this philanthropic act of yours, which should take some pressure off you at the holidays,” he offered, so logically she could almost believe him.

“It isn’t as simple as that. The press can twist things, rumors will start about both of us.” What if they thought it was her baby? She squeezed her eyes closed and bolted off the sofa. “I need more time.”

The buzzer rang at the door. Her heart went into her throat.

She heard Rowan follow her. Felt the heat of him at her back. Felt the urgency.

“Issa doesn’t have time, Mari. You need to decide if you’ll do this. Decide to commit now.”

She turned sharply to find him standing so close the three of them made a little family circle. “But you could take her on your own—”

“Maybe the authorities would accept that. But maybe not. We should lead with our strongest case. For her.” He cradled the baby’s head. “We didn’t ask for this, but we’re here.” Fine lines fanned from the corners of his eyes, attesting to years of worry and long hours in the sun. “We may disagree on a lot of things, but we’re people who help.”

“You’re guilt-tripping me,” she accused in the small space between them, her words crackling like small snaps of electricity. And the guilt was working. Her concerns about gossip felt absolutely pathetic in light of the plight of this baby.

As much as she gave Rowan hell about his computer inventions, she knew all about his humanitarian work at the charity clinic. He devoted his life to helping others. He had good qualities underneath that arrogant charm.

“Well, people like us who help in high-stakes situations learn to use whatever means are at our disposal.” He half smiled, creasing the lines deeper. “Is it working?”

Those lines from worry and work were real. She might disapprove of his methods, but she couldn’t question his motivations, his altruistic spirit. Seeing him deftly rock the baby to sleep ended any argument. For this one time at least, she was on his team.

For Issa.

“Open the door and you’ll find out.”

* * *

Three hours later, Mari watched Rowan close the hotel door after the police. Stacks of paperwork rested on the table, making it official. She and Rowan had temporary custody of the baby while the police investigated further and tried to track down the employee who’d walked away from the cart.

Issa slept in her infant seat, secure for now.

Mari sighed in relief, slumping in exhaustion back onto the sofa. She’d done it. She’d played the princess card and all but demanded the police obey her “request” to care for the baby until Christmas—less than two weeks away—or until more information could be found about Issa’s parents. She’d agreed to care for the child with Rowan Boothe, a doctor who’d saved countless young lives. The police had seemed relieved to have the problem resolved so easily. They’d taken photos of the baby and prints. They would look into the matter, but their faces said they didn’t hold out much hope of finding answers.

Maybe she should hire a private detective to look deeper than the police. Except it was almost midnight now. Any other plans would have to wait until morning.

Rowan rested a hand on Mari’s shoulder. “Would you get my medical bag so I can do a more thorough checkup? It’s in the bedroom by my shaving kit. I’d like to listen to her heart.”

He squeezed her shoulder once, deliciously so, until her mouth dried right up from that simple touch.

“Medical bag.” She shot to her feet. “Right, of course.”

She was too tired and too unsettled to fight off the sensual allure of him right now. She stepped into Rowan’s bedroom, her eyes drawn to the hints of him everywhere. A suit was draped over the back of a rattan rocker by sliding doors that led out to a balcony. She didn’t consider herself a romantic by any stretch but the thought of sitting out there under the stars with someone...

God, what was the matter with her? This man had driven her bat crazy for years. Now she was daydreaming about an under-the-stars make-out session that would lead back into the bedroom. His bedroom.

Her eyes skated to the sprawling four-poster draped with gauzy netting, a dangerous place to look with his provocative glances still steaming up her memories. An e-reader rested on the bedside table, his computer laptop tucked underneath. Her mind filled with images of him sprawled in that massive bed—working, reading—details about a man she’d done her best to avoid. She pulled her eyes away.

The bathroom was only a few feet away. She charged across the plush carpet, pushing the door wide. The scent of him was stronger in here, and she couldn’t resist breathing in the soapy aroma clinging to the air—patchouli, perhaps. She swallowed hard as goose bumps of awareness rose on her skin, her senses on overload.

A whimpering baby cry from the main room reminded her of her mission here. She shook off frivolous thoughts and snagged the medical bag from the marble vanity. She wrapped her hands around the well-worn leather with his name on a scratched brass plate. The dichotomy of a man this wealthy carrying such a battered bag added layers to her previously clear-cut image of him.

Clutching the bag to her stomach, she returned to the sitting room. Rowan set aside a bottle and settled the baby girl against his shoulder, his broad palm patting her back.

How exactly were they going to work this baby bargain? She had absolutely no idea.

For the first time in her life, she’d done something completely irrational. The notion that Rowan Boothe had that much power over her behavior rattled her to her toes.

She really was losing it. She needed to finish this day, get some sleep and find some clarity.

From this point forward, she would keep a firmer grip on herself. And that meant no more drooling over the sexy doc, and definitely no more sniffing his tempting aftershave.

* * *

Rowan tapped through the images on his laptop, reviewing the file on the baby, including the note he’d scanned in before passing it over to the police. He’d sent a copy of everything to Colonel Salvatore. Even though it was too early to expect results, he still hoped for some news, for the child’s sake.

Meanwhile, though, he’d accomplished a freaking miracle in buying himself time with Mari. A week or so at the most, likely more, but possibly less since her staying rested solely on the child. If relatives were found quickly, she’d be headed home. He didn’t doubt his decision, even if part of his motivation was selfish. This baby provided the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Mari, to learn more about her and figure out what made her tick. Then, hopefully, she would no longer be a thorn in his side—or a pain in his libido.

He tapped the screen back to the scanned image of the note that had been left with the baby.

Dr. Boothe, you are known for your charity and generosity. Please look over my baby girl, Issa. My husband died in a border battle and I cannot give Issa what she needs. Tell her I love her and will think of her always.

His ears tuned in to the sound of Mari walking toward him, then the floral scent of her wrapped around him. She stood behind him without speaking and he realized she was reading over his shoulder, taking in the note.

“Loves her?” Mari sighed heavily. “The woman abandoned her to a stranger based on that person’s reputation in the press.”

“I take it your heart isn’t tugged.” He closed the laptop and turned to face her.

“My heart is broken for this child—” she waved toward the sleeping infant in the baby seat “—and what’s in store for her if we don’t find answers, along with a truly loving and responsible family.”

“I’m hopeful that my contacts will have some information sooner than the police.” A reminder that he needed to make the most of his time with Mari. What if Salvatore called with concrete news tomorrow? He looked over at Mari, imagining being with her, drawing her into his bedroom, so close to where they were now. “Let’s talk about how we’ll look after the baby here during the conference.”

“Now?” She jolted in surprise. “It’s past midnight.”

“There are things to take care of, like ordering more baby gear, meeting with the hotel’s babysitting service.” He ticked off each point on his fingers. “Just trying to fill in the details on our plan.”

“You actually want to plan?” Her kissable lips twitched with a smile.

“No need to be insulting,” he bantered right back, enjoying the way she never treated him like some freaking saint just because of where he chose to work. He wasn’t the good guy the press painted him to be just because he’d reformed. The past didn’t simply go away. He still had debts that could never be made right.

“I’m being careful—finally. Like I should have been earlier.” Mari fidgeted with the hem of her untucked shirt, weariness straining her face, dark circles under her eyes. “She’s a child. A human being. We can’t just fly by the seat of our pants.”

He wanted to haul Mari into his arms and let her sleep against his chest, tell her she didn’t have to be so serious, she didn’t have to take the weight of the world on her shoulders. She could share the load with him.

Instead, he dragged a chair from the tiny teak table by the window and gestured for her to sit, to rest. “I’m not exactly without the means or ability to care for a child. It’s only for a short time until we figure out more about her past so we don’t have to fly by the seat of our pants.” He dragged over a chair for himself as well and sat across from her.

“How is it so easy for you to disregard the rules?” She slumped back.

“You’re free to go if you wish.”

She shook her head. “I brought her in here. She’s my responsibility.”

Ah, so she wasn’t in a rush to run out the door. “Do you intend to personally watch over her while details are sorted out?”

“I can hire someone.”

“Ah, that’s right. You’re a princess with endless resources,” he teased, taking her hands in his.

She pulled back. “Are you calling me spoiled?”

He squeezed her fingers, holding on, liking the feel of her hands in his. “I would never dare insult you, Princess. You should know that well enough from the provocative things I said to you five minutes ago.”

“Oh. Okay.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, surprise flickering through her eyes.

“First things first.” He thumbed the inside of her wrists.

“Your plan?” Her breathing seemed to hitch.