“For the press conference, and taking the weight of that worry off me. You handled the media so perfectly. I’m envious of your ease, though.” She scrunched her elegant nose. “I wish I had that skill. Running from them hasn’t worked out that well for me.”
“I just hope the statement and all of those photos will help Issa.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
Helping Interpol gain access to crooks around the world had given him insights into just how selfish, how Machiavellian, people could be. “Think of all the crackpots who will call claiming to know something just to attach themselves to a high-profile happening or hoping to gain access to you even for a short while knowing that DNA tests will later prove them to be frauds.”
“God, I never thought of that,” she gasped, her eyes wide and horrified.
He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, all too aware of how perfectly she fit to his side. “The police are going to be busy sifting through the false leads that come through.”
“That’s why you wanted to wait a day to officially announce we’re fostering her….” she whispered softly to herself as they passed a cluster of street carolers.
“Why did you think I waited?” He saw a whisper of chagrin shimmer in her golden eyes. “Did you think I was buying time to hit on you?”
She lifted a dark eyebrow. “Were you?”
“Maybe.” Definitely.
She looked away, sighing. “Honestly, I’m not sure what I thought. Since I stumbled into your suite with that room-service cart, things have been…crazy. I’ve barely had time to think, things are happening so fast. I just hate to believe anyone would take advantage of this precious baby’s situation for attention or reward money.”
The reality of just how far people would go made his jaw flex. “We’ll wade through them. No one gains access to this child or you until they’ve been completely vetted. We will weed through the false claims and selfish agendas. Meanwhile, she’s safe with us. She turns toward your voice already.”
“You’re nice to say that, but she’s probably just in search of her next bottle.”
“Believe what you want. I know differently.” He’d seen scores of mothers and children file through his clinic—biological and adoptive. Bonds formed with or without a blood connection.
“Are you arguing with me? I thought we were supposed to be getting along now. Isn’t that what you said at the press conference?”
“I’m teasing you. Flirting. There’s a difference.” Unable to resist, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Oh.”
“Relax. I’m not going to hit on you here.” There were far too many cameras for him to be too overt. “Although a longer kiss would certainly give the press something to go wild about. Feed them tidbits and they’ll quit digging for other items.”
Furrows dug into her forehead. “But it feels too much like letting them win.”
“I consider it controlling the PR rather than letting it control me.” He guided her by her shoulders, turning toward a reporter with a smile before walking on. “Think about all the positive publicity you’re racking up for your father.”
“This may have started out to be about keeping the press off my back, but now it’s more about the baby.”
He agreed with her on that account. But the worry on her face reminded him to stay on track with his plan. “This conversation is getting entirely too serious for a day of fun and relaxation.”
“Of course…” She swiped her hand over her forehead, squeezing her eyes closed for an instant before opening them again and smiling. “Who are you shopping for today? For your family?”
“In a sense.”
He stopped in front of a toy store.
Her grin widened, her kissable lips glistening with a hint of gloss. “Are we shopping for Issa?”
“For the kids at my clinic.”
* * *
Toy shopping with Rowan and Issa, like they were a family, tore at Mari’s heart throughout the day. The man who’d left a flower on her pillow and chosen her favorite breakfast was charming. But the man who went shopping for the little patients at his free clinic?
That man was damn near irresistible.
Riding the elevator back up to their suite, she grabbed the brass bar for balance. Her unsteady feet had nothing to do with exhaustion or the jerk of the elevator—and everything to do with the man standing beside her.
Her mind swirled with memories of their utterly carefree day. The outing had been everything she could have hoped for and more. Sure, the paparazzi had followed them, lurking, but Rowan had controlled them, fielding their questions while feeding them enough tidbits to keep them from working themselves into a frenzy. Best of all, Issa had gotten her press coverage. Hopefully the right people would see it.
As much as Mari’s stomach clenched at the thought of saying goodbye to the baby, she wanted what was best for the child. She wanted Issa to feel—and be—loved unreservedly. Every child deserved that. And Rowan was doing everything possible to help this child he’d never met, just like he did the patients at his clinic, even down to the smallest detail.
Such as their shopping spree.
It would have been easier to write it off as a show for the press or a trick to win her over. But he had a list of children’s names with notes beside them. Not that she could read his stereotypically wretched doctor’s scrawl. But from the way he consulted the list and made choices, he’d clearly made a list of kids’ names and preferences. The bodyguards had been kept busy stowing packages in the back of a limo trailing them from store to store.
And he hadn’t left Issa off his list. The baby now had a new toy in her stroller, a plush zebra, the black-and-white stripes captivating the infant. The vendor had stitched the baby’s name in pink on the toy.
Issa.
The one part of her prior life the little one carried with her—a name. Used for both boys and girls, meaning savior. Appropriate this time of year… Her feet kicked. Could the name be too coincidental? Could whoever left the baby have made up the name to go with the season—while leading authorities astray?
She leaned in to stroke the baby’s impossibly soft cheek. Issa’s lashes swept open and she stared up at Mari for a frozen moment, wide dark eyes looking up with such complete trust Mari melted. What happened if family came forward and they didn’t love her as she deserved?
Those thoughts threatened to steal Mari’s joy and she shoved them aside as the elevator doors whooshed open. She refused to let anything rob her of this perfect day and the promise of more. More time with Issa. More time with Rowan.
More kisses?
More of everything?
He’d walked away last night because he thought she wasn’t ready. Maybe he was right. Although the fact that he cared about her needs, her well-being, made it all the more difficult to keep him at arm’s length. And she couldn’t even begin to imagine how his plans for seducing her fit into this whole charade with the baby.
Questions churned in her mind, threatening to steal the joy from the day. In a rare impulsive move, she decided to simply go with the flow. She would quit worrying about when or if they would sleep together and just enjoy being with Rowan. Enjoy the flirting.
Revel in the chemistry they shared rather than wearing herself out denying its existence.
Butterflies stirred in her stomach. She pushed the stroller into their suite just as Rowan’s arm shot out to stop her.
“Someone’s here,” he warned a second before a woman shot up from the sofa.
A woman?
The butterflies slowed and something cold settled in her stomach. Dread?
A redhead with a freckled nose and chic clothes squealed, “Rowan!”
The farm-fresh bombshell sprinted across the room and wrapped her arms around Rowan�
�s neck.
Dread quickly shifted to something darker.
Jealousy.
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 melod
ramatic 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.
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