Next time? Definitely a next time. And a next night.
Already she was thinking into the future and that was a scary proposition. Better to live in the now and savor this incredible moment. She clasped Rowan’s shoulders as he shifted back over her again.
He balanced on his elbows, holding his weight off her. The thick pressure of him between her legs had her wriggling to get closer, draw him in deeper. She swept her other leg up until her ankles hooked around his waist. Her world filled with the sight of his handsome face and broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world.
He hooked a hand behind her knee. “Your legs drive me crazy. Do you know that?”
“I do now. I also know you’re driving me crazy waiting. I want all of you. Now.” She dug her heels into his buttocks and urged him to…
Fill her.
Stretch her.
Thrill her.
Her back bowed up to meet him thrust for thrust, hushed sigh for sigh. Perspiration sealed them together, cool sheets slipping and bunching under them. In a smooth sweep, he kicked the comforter and tapestry pillows to the floor.
Tension gathered inside her, tightening in her belly. Her head dug back into the mattress, the scent of them mingling and filling every gasping breath. He touched her with reverence and perception, but she didn’t want gentle or reverent. She needed edgy; she needed completion.
She pushed at his shoulder and flipped him to his back, straddling him, taking him faster and harder, his heated gaze and smile of approval all the encouragement she needed. His hands sketched up her stomach to her breasts, circling and plucking at her nipples as she came, intensifying waves of pleasure, harder, straight to the core of her. She rode the sensations, rode him, taking them both to the edge…and into a climax. Mutual. She bit her bottom lip to hold back the sounds swelling inside her as she stayed true to their vow to keep quiet. Rowan’s jaw flexed, his groans mingling with her sighs.
Each rolling wave of bliss drew her, pulling her into a whirlpool of total muscle-melting satisfaction. Her arms gave way and she floated to rest on top of him. Rowan’s chest pumped beneath her with labored breaths. His arms locked around her, anchoring her to him and to the moment.
Her body trembled in the wake of each aftershock rippling through her.
Exhaustion pulled at her but she knew if she slept, morning would come too fast with too many questions and possibilities that could take this away. So she blinked back sleep, focusing on multicolored lights beyond the window. Yachts, a sailboat, a ferry. She took in the details to stay awake so once her languid body regained strength, she could play out all those fantasies with Rowan.
She wanted everything she could wring from this stolen moment in case this night was all they could have before she retreated to the safety and order of her cold, clinical world.
* * *
“Are you asleep?” Mari’s soft voice whispered through Rowan’s haze as he sprawled beside her.
He’d wanted Mari for years. He’d known they would be good together. But no way in hell could he have predicted just how mind-blowingly incredible making love to this woman would be.
Sleep wasn’t even an option with every fiber of him saturated with the satiny feel of her, the floral scent of her, the driving need to have her again and again until…
His mind stopped short of thoughts of the end. “I’m awake. Do you need something?”
Was she about to boot him out of her bed? Out of her life? He knew too well how fast the loyalties of even good people could shift. He grabbed the rumpled sheet free from around his feet and whipped it out until it fanned to rest over them.
She rolled toward him, her fingers toying with the hair on his chest. “I’m good. This is good, staying right here, like this. The past couple of days have been so frenzied, it’s a relief to be in the moment.”
“I hear ya.” He kissed the top of her head, thinking of the bracelets he’d bought for her from the market and planning the right time to place them on her elegant arm.
Her fingers slowed and she looked up at him through long sweeping eyelashes. “You’re very good with Issa. Have you ever thought about having kids of your own?”
His voice froze in his throat for a second. He’d given up on perfect family life a long time ago when he’d woken in the hospital to learn he and his brother were responsible for a woman losing her baby. Any hope of resurrecting those dreams died the day his brother crashed his truck into the side of a house.
Rowan sketched his fingers along Mari’s stomach. He’d built a new kind of family with the Brotherhood and his patients. “I have my kids at the clinic, children that need me and depend on me.”
“So you know that it’s possible to love children that aren’t your blood relation.”
Where was she going with this? And then holy hell, it became all too clear. She was thinking about the possibility of keeping Issa beyond this week. “Are you saying that you’re becoming attached to the little rug rat?”
“How could I not?” She leaned over him, resting her chin on her folded hands as she looked into his eyes. “I wonder if Issa landed with me for a reason. I’ve always planned not to get married. I thought that meant no kids for me—I never considered myself very good with them. But with Issa, I know what to do. She even responds to my voice already.”
She was right about that. They shared a special bond that had to be reassuring to an infant whose world had been turned upside down by abandonment. But questions about the baby’s past would be answered soon. He thought of Hillary and Troy working their tails off to find the baby’s family. He hated to think of Mari setting herself up for heartache.
She shook her head before he could think of how to remind her. “I know it’s only been a couple of days and she could well have family out there who wants her. Or her mother might change her mind. I just hate the limbo.”
He swept her hair from her face and kissed her, hard. “You won’t be in limbo for long, I can promise you that.” Guilt pinched over how he’d brought her into this, all but forced her to stay with him. “My friends and I won’t rest until we find the truth about Issa’s past. That’s a good thing, you know.”
“Of course I do. Let’s change the subject.” She pulled a wobbly smile. “I think it’s amazing the way your friends all came to help you at the drop of a hat.”
“It’s what we do for each other.” Just as he’d done his best to help his buddy Conrad reconcile with his wife earlier this year. He owed Conrad for helping him start the clinic, but he would have helped regardless.
“In spite of your rocky teenage years, you and your friends have all turned into incredible success stories. I may not always agree with some of your projects, but your philanthropic work is undeniable. It’s no secret that your other friend, the casino owner—Conrad Hughes—has poured a lot of money into your clinic, as well.”
He tensed at her mention of one of his Alpha Brotherhood buddies, wishing he could share more about the other side of his life. Needing to warn her, to ensure she didn’t get too close. There weren’t many women who could live with the double life he and his friends led with their Interpol work. Mari had enough complicating her life with her heritage. Better to keep the conversation on well-known facts and off anything that could lead to speculation.
“Conrad invested the start-up cash for my clinic. He deserves the credit. My financial good fortune came later.”
“No need to be so modest. Even before your invention of the diagnostics program, you could have had a lucrative practice anywhere and you chose to be here in Africa, earning a fraction of the salary.”
He grunted, tunneling his hand under the sheet to cup her butt and hopefully distract her. “I got by then and I get by even better now.”
She smiled against his chest. “Right, the billions you made off that diagnostics program we
keep arguing about. I could help you make it better.”
He smacked her bottom lightly. “Is that really what you want to talk about and risk a heated debate?”
“Why are you so quick to deflect accolades? The press is totally in love with you. You could really spin that, if you wanted.”
He grimaced. “No, thanks.”
She elbowed up on his chest. “I do understand your reticence. But think about it. You could inspire other kids. Sure you went to a military reform school, but you studied your butt off for scholarships to become a doctor, made a fortune and seem to be doing your level best to give it all away.”
“I’m not giving it all away,” he said gruffly, a sick feeling churning in his gut at the detour this conversation was taking. He avoided that damn press corps for just this reason. He didn’t want anyone digging too deeply and he sure as hell didn’t want credit for some noble character he didn’t possess. “If I donate everything, I’ll be broke and no good to anyone. I’m investing wisely.”
“While donating heavily of your money and time.”
Throwing all his resources into the black hole of guilt that he’d never fill. Ever. He took a deep breath to keep that dark cavern at bay.
“Stop, okay?” He kissed her to halt her words. “I do what I do because it’s the right thing. I have to give back, to make up for my mistakes.”
Her forehead furrowed. “For your drunk-driving accident in high school? I would say you’ve more than made restitution. You could hire other doctors to help you carry the load.”
“How can a person ever make restitution for lives lost?” he barked out, more sharply than he’d intended. But now that he’d started, there was no going back. “Do you know why I was sentenced to the military reform school for my last two years of high school?”
“Because you got in a drunk-driving accident and a woman was injured. You made a horrible, horrible mistake, Rowan. No one’s denying that. But it’s clear to anyone looking that you’ve turned your life around.”
“You’ve done your homework where my diagnostics model is concerned, but you’ve obviously never researched the man behind the medicine.” He eased Mari off him and sat up, his elbows on his knees as he hung his head, the weight of the memories too damn much. “The woman driving the other car was pregnant. She lost the baby.”
“Oh, no, Rowan how tragic for her.” Mari’s voice filled with sadness and a hint of horror, but her hand fluttered to rest on his back. “And what a heavy burden for you to carry as the driver of the car.”
She didn’t know the half of it. No one did. To let the full extent of his guilt out would stain his brother’s memory. Yet, for some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, he found himself confessing all for the first time. To Mari. “But I wasn’t driving.”
Her hand slid up to rub the back of his neck and she sat up beside him, sheet clasped to her chest. “The news reports all say you were.”
“That’s what we told the police.” He glanced over at her. “My brother and I both filled out formal statements saying I was the driver.”
She stared back at him for two crashes of the waves before her eyes went wide with realization. “Your brother was actually the one behind the wheel that night? And he was drunk?”
Rowan nodded tightly. “We were both injured in the car accident, knocked out and rushed to the nearest hospital. When I woke up from surgery for a punctured lung, my mother was with me. My dad was with my brother, who’d broken his nose and fractured his jaw. They wanted us to get our stories straight before we talked to the police.”
That night came roaring back to him, the confusion, the pain. The guilt that never went away no matter how many lives he saved at the clinic.
“Did your parents actually tell you to lie for your brother?” Her eyes went wider with horror. Clearly her parents would have never considered such a thing.
Most never would. He understood that, not that it made him feel one bit better about his own role in what had happened. She needed to understand the position they’d all been in, how he’d tried to salvage his brother’s life only to make an even bigger mistake. One that cost him…too much.
“We were both drunk that night, but my brother was eighteen years old. I was only sixteen, a minor. The penalty would be less for me, but Dylan could serve hard time in jail. If I confessed to driving the car, Dylan could still have a future, a chance to turn his life around while he was still young.”
“So you took the blame for your brother. You allowed yourself to be sentenced to a military reform school because your family pressured you, oh, Rowan…” She swept back his hair, her hands cool against his skin. “I am so sorry.”
But he didn’t want or deserve her comfort or sympathy. Rather than reject it outright, he linked fingers with her and lowered her arms.
“There was plenty of blame to go around that night. I could have made so many different choices. I could have called a cab at the party or asked someone else to drive us home.” The flashing lights outside reminded him of the flash of headlights before the wreck, the blurred cop cars before he’d blacked out, then finally the arrival of the police to arrest him. “I wasn’t behind the wheel, but I was guilty of letting my brother have those keys.”
His brother had been a charismatic character, everyone believed him when he said he would change, and Rowan had gotten used to following his lead. When Dylan told him he was doing great in rehab, making his meetings, laying off the bottle, Rowan had believed him.
“What about your brother’s guilt for what happened that night? Didn’t Dylan deserve to pay for what happened to that woman, for you giving up your high school years?”
Trust Mari to see this analytically, to analyze it in clear-cut terms of rights and wrongs. Life didn’t work that way. The world was too full of blurred gray territory.
“My brother paid plenty for that night and the decisions I made.” If Rowan had made the right choices in the beginning, his brother would still be alive today. “Two years later, Dylan was in another drunk-driving accident. He drove his truck into the side of a house. He died.” Rowan drew in a ragged breath, struggling like hell not to shrug off her touch that left him feeling too raw right now. “So you see, my decisions that night cost two lives.”
Mari scooted to kneel in front of him, the sheet still clasped to her chest. Her dark hair spiraled around her shoulders in a wild sexy mess, but her amber eyes were no-nonsense. “You were sixteen years old and your parents pressured you to make the wrong decision. They sacrificed you to save your brother. They were wrong to do that.”
Memories grated his insides, every word pouring acid on freshly opened wounds. He left the bed, left her, needing to put distance between himself and Mari’s insistence.
He stepped over the tapestry pillows and yanked on his boxers. “You’re not hearing me, Mari.” He snagged his jeans from the floor and jerked them on one leg at a time. “I accept responsibility for my own actions. I wasn’t a little kid. Blaming other people for our mistakes is a cop-out.”
And the irony of it all, the more he tried to make amends, the more people painted him as some kind of freaking saint. He needed air. Now.
A ringing phone pierced the silence between them.
Not her ringtone. His, piping through the nursery monitor. Damn it. He’d left his cell phone in his room. “I should get that before it wakes the baby.”
He hotfooted it out of her room, grateful for the excuse to escape more of her questions. Why the hell couldn’t they just make love until the rest of the world faded away?
With each step out the door, he felt the weight of her gaze following him. He would have to give her some kind of closure to her questions, and he would. Once he had himself under control again.
He opened the door leading into his bedroom. His phone rang on the bamboo dresser near the bassinet. He gr
abbed the cell and took it back into the sitting area, reading the name scrolling across the screen.
Troy Donavan?
Premonition burned over him. His computer pal had to have found something big in order to warrant a call in the middle of the night.
Mari filled the doorway, tan satin sheet wrapped around her, toga-style. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know yet.” He thumbed the talk button on the cell phone. “Yes?”
“Hi, Rowan.” Hillary’s voice filled his ear. “It’s me. Troy’s found a trail connecting a worker at the hotel to a hospital record on one of the outlying islands—he’s still working the data. But he’s certain he’s found Issa’s mother.”
Ten
Mari cradled sleeping Issa in her arms, rocking her for what would be the last time. She stared past the garland-draped minibar to the midday sun marking the passage of the day, sweeping away precious final minutes with this sweet child she’d already grown to love.
Her heart was breaking in two.
She couldn’t believe her time with Issa was coming to an end. Before she’d even been able to fully process the fact that she’d actually followed through on the decision to sleep with Rowan, her world had been tossed into utter chaos with one phone call that swept Issa from them forever.
Troy Donavan had tracked various reflections of reflections in surveillance videos, piecing them together with some maze of other cameras in everything from banks to cops’ radar to follow a path to a hint of a clue. They’d found the woman who’d walked away from the room-service trolley where Issa had been hidden. They’d gone a step further in the process to be sure. At some point, Mari had lost the thread of how he’d traced the trail back to a midwife on the mainland who’d delivered Issa. She’d been able to identify the mother, proving the baby’s identity with footprint records.
Yuletide Baby Surprise Page 12