The Sheikh's Borrowed Baby (More Than He Bargained For Book 7)

by Holly Rayner

  Finishing quickly and brusquely, Maggie hung up and stood up.

  “Sorry, Hals, I’ve gotta run.”

  “Oh, Maggie.” Disappointment covered the young woman’s face like a dark shroud. “Not work again.”

  “An emergency. People threatening to quit right and left over some ham-handed guy who just walked in and took over. Here, honey, lunch is on me today.” Fumbling in her purse, she laid a few bills on the table and began making her way through a line of customers. “I’ll call you later and let you know what’s going on.”

  “But, Maggie, if you could wait—just a minute—”

  Hallie’s words fell on empty air. Her friend was already through the door and gone, leaving behind only the scent of her perfume and a few crumpled napkins. The place was starting to fill up as a late-afternoon clientele trickled in to place orders and take seats.

  “Well, that’s a pain. I only wanted to ask her to watch you for a few minutes, while I used the ladies’ room,” she told Aaron. “In case you weren’t aware, my darling son, everything in life is made more difficult by having a baby around.”

  Aaron didn’t take well to criticism, even that made in a half-joking way. Watching his mother intently, with increasing trepidation, he puckered up his tiny, angelic face and burst out with an ear-splitting roar of rage.

  Chapter 4

  During his stay at his temporary headquarters while pushing the deal with Griffin Oceanic, Karim had needed very little effort to familiarize himself with the area, and to begin finding his way around. How many weeks—months—had he been residing in the penthouse of the Wilshire Reef Hotel? Certainly, the time in between the usual business meetings and conference calls had allowed him to explore.

  Such beauty, in the City of Brotherly Love. Such history. Were he a betting man, Karim might lay wagers that he had visited more sites, toured more museums, and investigated more ancestral cemeteries and moldering old buildings than nearly any Philadelphian native.

  All this was not just to fill empty hours. He truly enjoyed the freedom to wander, to poke his nose into strange little hidey-holes. How better to learn about this vast land, that stretched so many thousands of miles, and encompassed such incredible variety? How better to learn about its people, its noisy, exasperating, generous, short-tempered, welcoming people?

  Karim had been blessed (or cursed) with an insatiable curiosity. Wherever in the world he had landed, his curiosity had drawn him out into the byways like a magnet. It was an admirable characteristic, curiosity, he’d been told. However, this one trait had driven his father to distraction.

  “Simply say and do,” the older sheikh had often urged. “It is not necessary to know the reason why, or the personalities of those involved.”

  But Karim begged to differ. In his opinion, the personalities of those involved were exactly what made a certain transaction interesting. Worth looking into. Worth fighting for. Or not.

  Since early that morning, Karim had been walking the empty city streets in an effort to slow his restless heartbeat and calm his scurrying thoughts. The details of last night’s momentous dinner were still rattling around in his brain and sitting very untidily in the pit of his stomach.

  He had made an utter idiot of himself! Oh, not so anyone would notice. Suave and urbane as always, he had played along with his monstrous lie, simply because he’d been too caught up in it to back out. And no simple answer to the dilemma came to mind.

  The easiest solution—contact an agency that specialized in tricky assignments, and hire actors to play the parts of his wife and son—jarred with the rigid standards by which he tried to live his life. What, then? Where could he go from here?

  Well. He glanced at the gleaming platinum watch on his left wrist. The time was already after three, and he’d had no lunch. Perhaps a cup of espresso and one of those insanely heavyweight bagels—which always reminded him of a life preserver in size and shape—might help clear his mind.

  And a coffee shop stood conveniently just across the tree-shaded street. It seemed a decent enough place, given location and appearance. Neat and attractive, without that overdone ‘indie’ look common to so many new establishments. Catchy name, as well.

  It was as he set foot inside the wood-framed front door that his ears perked up and his nostrils flared slightly, like a wolf scenting danger. Noise. Commotion. A low rumble of uncomfortable, uneasy hubbub that underlay the sociable atmosphere.

  Enough customers were milling about the spacious room to keep servers busy but not swamped, enough to ensure business would be around for another day.

  But the mood was unhappy. Turbulent, even.

  In the corner, a young woman was doing her best to quiet a screaming baby, while fumbling for the multitude of supplies which any small child requires. Her efforts were not being well received by others around her.

  In fact, Karim could see pointed glances, hear muttered comments, all directed toward this one hapless, apparently helpless, overwhelmed mother who was all alone.

  “All right, I think my eardrums have just split in two,” complained one short-tempered elderly man, in a voice meant to be heard.

  “Just take the kid outside already,” grumbled another.

  No patience whatsoever with the trials and tribulations of someone struggling against the tide.

  “I sure don’t need to listen to this shrieking. Can’t she go somewhere else?”

  “So give the kid an aspirin or something. He’s just throwing a tantrum.”

  “A good slap on the bottom would work better. They can’t start to learn discipline too young.”

  Karim, standing stunned just inside the door, was aghast. What had happened to the warm, good-natured citizens about whom he had just been thinking such benevolent thoughts? No one was offering sympathy. Or compassion. Or even extending the hand of assistance.

  Karim could. And he would.

  “Miss, is there anything I can do to help?”

  Even poised beside her, he wasn’t sure she could hear his quiet question above the noise the baby continued to make with some quite outstanding lung power.

  Confused and flustered, she looked up.

  What a lovely creature she was, Karim realized with surprise. Despite the fact that the child had clearly, in his writhings and wrestlings, wreaked havoc upon her person—glossy brown hair completely disarrayed, cheeks reddened in frustration, thick lashes damp with the beginning of tears—she was, indeed, a picture of attractive young motherhood.

  “I—it’s—hush, Aaron, please, darling—”

  “Aaron, you said? Is he ill?”

  The blush deepened as she continued to fight the infant for control. His strong little body was contorted with outrage, and he was flinging himself around in her arms like a demon trying to do severe damage.

  “No,” she confessed. “He’s—well, I hate to admit it, but those people who are grumbling…they may have a point about the temper tantrum. Or, it could just be a tummy ache.”

  “Oh?” They were still attempting to speak above Aaron’s screams. “And, in that case, might there be a remedy that would help quiet him down?”

  “Shh, Aaron, sweetheart.”

  She had tried replacing him in the stroller; she had tried holding him carefully; she had tried gently bouncing him as a distraction. Nothing seemed to work.

  “Perhaps a different position, or a move out-of-doors—?”

  “Don’t you think,” said the woman now, with some irritation, “that if I knew what would help him, I’d do it?”

  Karim managed to look sheepish while also subtly paying for the young woman’s check, handing a nearby server a bill that covered the cost of her tab, nearly ten times over. She shot him an appreciative—albeit shocked—look for a second before her attention was pulled back to her wailing son. Finally, she turned the child slightly—though not deliberately—so that Karim caught a glimpse of his contorted little face.

  He reacted with a sudden sense of shock. So much so tha
t the hairs on his arms lifted, with a tiny electric tingle, and he had to work to keep his breathing steady and unaffected.

  For, this baby—discovered purely by chance in an out-of-the-way coffee shop somewhere on the side streets of town—couldn’t have looked more like the image of that son he had mentally pictured last night, at the Griffins’ dinner, than if he had drawn up the specifications himself.

  “Aaron!” he whispered, with dawning realization.

  A plan was already forming in the nimble cells of his brain.

  Chapter 5

  Peace, at last. Quiet, anyway, which allowed jangled nerves to relax once more. And it was all due to Hallie’s decision to lay Aaron, still thrashing, tummy-down across her lap while she rubbed gentle circles over his back. The shrieks subsided, dying away into occasional whimpers and hiccups, before finally being silenced completely as the baby drifted off into sleep.

  Every tight muscle in Hallie’s body—neck to shoulders to arms and legs—eased from cramping to a sudden lightness and buoyancy, as if she could unexpectedly float up and away with no more cares to tie her to earth.

  “Whew,” she whispered in a long, exhaled breath. Then, leaning her head back against the vinyl booth in utter surrender, she sighed serenely.

  The man in the chair opposite smiled.

  Silence reigned. A sweet, beautiful silence, in contrast to the solid ten minutes of screaming everyone had just endured. The atmosphere lightened; the mood eased; a small buzz of relieved conversation swept through the room.

  “And now what?”

  “Oh, poor little boy. In another minute or so—after I’ve regained my sanity—I’ll put him in the stroller and let him sleep for a while.”

  He eyed the empty coffee cup and the crumpled napkin with its scattering of crumbs.

  “You’ve had your lunch?”

  Hallie followed his glance.

  “Oh, yes, I have. I met a girlfriend here.”

  “But you were alone when I came in.”

  “Well, yes, because—” She frowned.

  Wait a minute. Who was this man, to question her whereabouts, or her reason for being here? What right had he to take such liberties? She owed no one an explanation for any of her actions.

  He could see the exact instant when suspicion darkened her eyes.

  “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect; I meant only to offer help. My name is Karim Al Ahsan, and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Hallie was not quite ready to lower the barriers she had so quickly erected. “Well…thank you.”

  Another smile. And, goodness, the man possessed a devastating smile. And looks. And charm galore, from what she could tell. Extremely well-dressed, even in the heat of the Philadelphian summer day. Extremely expensively dressed, actually, if she were any judge of the quality of merchandise. She remembered with a slight jolt how he’d paid for her bill. Not that money should matter, when compared to personality…

  “And will you share yours?”

  “My—what?”

  “Your name.”

  “Oh. Well…” She supposed it could do no harm. “Hallie. Hallie Jameson.”

  “Ah. Mrs. Jameson, I would—”

  “Miss.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Not Mrs. I’m just Miss Jameson. And the sleeping angel you see here”—her eyes crinkled with a glint of humor—“is my son, Aaron.”

  “I see.”

  He paused for a moment, considering, then drew in a breath.

  “Well, Miss Jameson, as pleasant as I find your company, I must excuse myself long enough to purchase whatever this café offers as an afternoon snack. Late lunch, I suppose. May I get something for you, as well?”

  Still wary, she shook her head.

  “Thanks anyway, but I’m fine. And thank you for paying for my tab; that was very kind of you.”

  “My pleasure, no need to thank me.” Rising, in one smooth, graceful movement, he bowed slightly toward her. “Will you wait for me, Miss Jameson? I would enjoy talking with you a little more.”

  Surprised, pleased, and curious all at once, Hallie immediately acquiesced. How fortunate that she had dressed a little more formally today, in pressed khaki capris and an off-the-shoulder blouse, instead of her usual casual uniform of shorts and a tee. Clothes do make the man, so they say. Or the woman.

  When Karim returned to her secluded corner a few minutes later, holding a coffee cup in one hand and a wrap enclosed in a napkin in the other, Hallie had settled the sleeping baby into his nest. He lay sprawled in drunken-like splendor, completely exhausted, covered by a light blanket and shaded by the stroller’s hood.

  “A well-deserved rest,” murmured Karim.

  “Uh-huh. For all of us. Well, Mr.…uh…Al—”

  “In my country, I am cousin to our ruler, and I am addressed as Sheikh,” he responded lightly to her awkwardness. “Here, I am simply Karim.”

  “Karim,” Hallie said respectfully, yet a trifle reluctantly. Exactly what did his title infer, she wondered, and how was she to use it?

  Rising, she piled her purse in amongst the diaper bag and Aaron’s remaining essentials, then moved to push the stroller forward. Anyone dealing with modern baby equipment knows that while, in some respects, they are an admirable carryall, in others, they are bulky, heavy, and difficult to move. She was struggling to push free a wheel turned backward against a groove of the tile floor when Karim gently nudged her aside.

  “You will please take this, and this,” he suggested, handing over his refreshments in exchange for the stroller bar, “and I will take this.”

  There was no discussion or even an argument; he simply plowed ahead, weaving through the scattered crowd of coffee-drinkers like a sports car on the freeway, leaving her behind to catch up. There is a first time for everything, and no one would ever realize that this was the very first time the Sheikh of Al Mediznah had ever kept company with a sleeping infant, let alone maneuver a stroller, and with such expertise.

  Outside, with room to breathe and space to stretch, they exchanged smiles of relief.

  “Now,” said Karim, taking charge. “From here, I see the edge of a park. Shall we make our way there, so we may carry on a conversation?”

  A few energetic children and their watchful mothers had congregated in the far corner, where playground equipment had been installed. Their laughter and shouts were far enough distant not to intrude upon the near corner, however, where a green-painted park bench awaited.

  “Perfect. I do believe our names have even been added, to reserve the seat.”

  Hallie couldn’t prevent a burst of laughter from bubbling up.

  “In your dreams. But let’s at least sit so you can eat your lunch, before you faint from hunger.”

  They were seated side by side while he nibbled at the wrap and sipped his espresso, now gone lukewarm in its cup. The silence between them felt neither strained nor uncomfortable, as is often the case with strangers, when one or the other must rush into speech to fill empty spaces. No, Hallie simply sat, enjoying the sweet sweep of fresh air, and the warmth of a shade-dappled sun on her face.

  “Are you often in the area?” Karim, having finished his lunch, finally spoke after balling up the paper napkin for recycling.

  “Here? No. Café Mud has been open only a few months, so my friend and I decided to meet here. I live in another part of town.”

  “I see. And you have enough free time to be able to indulge yourself in this way?”

  Another bubble of laughter, rueful now.

  “Hardly. This is my day off from work. I decided to leave all the usual chores behind so Aaron and I could take advantage of the nice weather.”

  “Ah.”

  The easy silence opened up again, while Hallie closed her eyes in utter contentment and let her body go limp. Karim turned slightly toward her so that he could lay one arm across the back of the bench. In his stroller, sound asleep, Aaron made a little snuffling noise and shifted position;
from the distant swing set, chains rattled, and children scuffled into the mulch.

  “It’s lovely here,” murmured Hallie. “I’m glad you suggested it.”

  “Tell me about yourself,” her companion said quietly. “What do you do? And how do you manage to juggle all the demands of your everyday routine?”

  All right, what could possibly be the downside when a handsome, charming, interesting (and interested) man picked her up in a coffee shop? Was her evil star lurking about somewhere, just waiting to zap her with a bolt of bad luck? Or was there the slightest remote chance that she might finally have beaten away the jinx, that her fortune had turned, that good things were coming her way?

  “Well, I work as an LPN in a hospital’s emergency unit.”

  No need to go into too many details. She had a baby whose safety was always uppermost in her mind.

  “An LPN. What exactly is that position? And how much training is one required to have?”

  That information she could certainly share, passing on what she had learned over the years. Again, as before, Karim seemed quite interested in what she had to say. (Or, was he just putting on an act, as so many men do, simply to achieve whatever goal he sought?)

  Muffled sounds from the stroller caught Hallie’s attention. Aaron was gurgling, coming back to life. Undoubtedly, he would need to be fed soon. She wondered how Karim would take to such mundane chores?

  “Hey, there, champ,” she said softly, reaching to smooth a finger along one velvet cheek. The baby offered her a damp, toothless grin in response.

  Karim watched with, she thought, some admiration (another vain hope?) as Aaron was clearly delighted to snuggle onto his mother’s lap with a full eight-ounce bottle of milk and some cuddling. Kicking his bare legs, playing with his own bare toes, he locked his gaze with Hallie’s and sucked rapturously away.

  “There is such a bond between you two,” said Karim. Was that a tinge of approval in his voice? “It is amazing, what I see there.”