Yuletide Baby Surprise

by Catherine Mann

  The young mother had made her plan meticulously and worked to cover her tracks. She’d uncovered Rowan’s schedule to speak at this conference then managed to get hired as a temp in the extra staff brought on for the holiday crowd. That’s why she hadn’t been on the employee manifest.

  It appeared she’d had a mental breakdown shortly after leaving her child and was currently in a hospital. Issa had no grandparents, but she had a great aunt and uncle who wanted her. Deeply. In their fifties, their four sons were all grown but they hadn’t hesitated in stepping up to care for their great niece. They owned a small coastal art gallery on the mainland and had plenty of parenting knowledge. They weren’t wealthy, but their business and lives were stable.

  All signs indicated they could give Issa a wonderful life full of love. Mari should be turning cartwheels over the news. So many orphans in Africa had no one to call their own and here Issa had a great family ready and eager to care for her.

  Still, Mari could barely breathe at the prospect of handing over the baby, even though she knew this was the best thing for Issa.

  The main door opened and Mari flinched, clutching the tiny girl closer. Rowan entered, lines fanning from his eyes attesting to the sleepless night they’d both endured after the fateful phone call about Issa’s identity.

  Rowan had scraped his hair back with a thin leather tie, his jeans and button-down shirt still sporting the wrinkles from when she’d tossed them aside in an effort to get him naked. That seemed eons ago now. Those moments after the call when they’d hastily gotten dressed again had passed in a frenzied haze.

  “Any news?” she asked, feeling like a wretched person for hoping somehow she could keep Issa. She wasn’t in any position to care for a baby. She’d never even given much thought to being a mother. But right now, it was the only thing she could think about. Who knew that a baby could fill a void in her life that she would have never guessed needed filling?

  He shook his head and sat on the arm of the sofa near her, his blue eyes locked on the two of them. “Just more verification of what we learned last night. The mother’s note was honest. Her husband was a soldier killed in a border dispute. And just more confirmation to what we already knew—she picked up a job doing temp work here, which is why she didn’t show up on the initial employee search. The woman you saw that night running from the cart was, in fact, Issa’s mother. She has family support back on the mainland. But it appears her husband’s death hit her especially hard when she was already suffering from postpartum depression.”

  That last part hadn’t been in the early reports. The whole issue became muddier now that the baby hadn’t been left out of selfishness, but rather out of a deep mental illness. “Issa ended up in a room-service cart because of postpartum depression?”

  “Approximately one in eight new mothers suffer from it in the States.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as if battling a headache. “Even more so here with the rampant poverty and lack of medical care.”

  Mari’s arms twitched protectively around the bundled infant. Would it have made a difference for Issa’s mother if the family had been more supportive? Or had they been shut out? So many questions piled on top of each other until she realized she was simply looking for someone to blame, a reason why it would be okay to keep Issa. The scent of baby detergent—specially bought so she could wash the tiny clothes herself—mingled with sweet baby breath. Such a tender, dear bundle…

  When Issa squirmed, Mari forced herself to relax—at least outwardly. “I guess I should be grateful she didn’t harm her child. What happens now?”

  Mari’s eyes dropped to the child as Issa fought off sleep, her tiny fingers clenching and unclenching.

  “She goes to her family,” he said flatly.

  “Where were they when Issa’s mother felt so desperate?” The question fell from Mari’s heart as much as her mouth, the objective scientist part of her nowhere to be found. She had to be certain before she could let go.

  Rowan’s hand fell to a tiny baby foot encased in a Christmas plaid sleeper. “The aunt and uncle insist they offered help, and that they didn’t know how badly their niece was coping.”

  “Do you believe them?”

  “They don’t live nearby so it’s entirely possible they missed the signs. Issa’s only three months old.” He patted the baby’s chest once before shoving to his feet again, pacing restlessly. “They came for the funeral six weeks ago, left some money, followed up with calls, but she told them she was managing all right.”

  “And they believed her.” How awful did it make her that she was still desperately searching for something to fault them for, some reason why they couldn’t be the right people to raise the little angel in her arms.

  “From everything our sources can tell, they’re good people. Solid income from their tourist shop.” He stopped at the window, palming the glass and leaning forward with a weary sigh. “They want custody of Issa and there’s no legal or moral reason I can see why they shouldn’t have her.”

  “What about what we want?” she asked quickly, in case she might have second thoughts and hold back the words.

  “We don’t have any rights to her.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “This is the best scenario we could have hoped would play out. That first night when we spoke to the cops, we both never really dreamed this good of a solution could be found for her.”

  “I realize that… It’s just…”

  He turned to face her, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “You already love her.”

  “Of course I care about her.”

  A sad half smile tipped his mouth. “That’s not what I said.”

  “I’ve only known her a few days.” Mari rolled out the logic as if somehow she could convince herself.

  “I’ve watched enough new mothers in my line of work to know how fast the heart engages.”

  What did he hope to achieve by this? By stabbing her with his words? “I’m not her mother.”

  “You have been, though. You’ve done everything a mother would do to protect her child. It’s not surprising you want to keep her.”

  Mari’s throat clogged with emotion. “I’m in no position to take care of a baby. She has relatives who want her and can care for her. I know what I have to do.”

  “You’re giving her the best chance, like a good mother.” He cupped the back of her head, comfort in his gaze and in his touch.

  She soaked up his supporting strength. “Are you trying to soften me up again?”

  “I’m wounded you would think I’m that manipulative.” He winked.

  “Ha,” she choked on a half laugh. “Now you’re trying to make me smile so I won’t cry.”

  He massaged her scalp lightly. “It’s okay to cry if you need to.”

  She shook her head. “I think I’ll just keep rocking her, maybe sing some Christmas carols until her family arrives. I know she won’t remember me, but…”

  A buzzer sounded at their suite door a second before Hillary walked in, followed by Troy. Mari sighed in relief over the brief reprieve. The aunt and uncle weren’t here yet.

  Hillary smiled gently. “The family is on their way up. I thought you would want the warning.”

  “Thank you for your help tracking them down.” Mari could hardly believe she managed to keep her voice flat and unemotional in light of the caldron churning inside her.

  Troy sat on the sofa beside his wife, the wiry computer mogul sliding an arm around Hillary’s shoulders. “I’m glad we were able to resolve the issue so quickly.”

  Yet it felt like she’d spent a lifetime with Rowan and the baby.

  Hillary settled into her husband’s arm. “Mari, did Rowan tell you the tip that helped us put the pieces together came from the press coverage you brought in?”

  “No, not that I remember.” Altho
ugh he might have said something and she missed it. Since she’d heard Issa was leaving, Mari had been in a fog.

  “Thanks to the huge interest your name inspired, we were contacted by a nurse whose story sounded legit. We showed her the composite sketch we’d pieced together from the different camera angles.” Hillary rambled on, filling the tense silence. “She identified the woman as a patient she’d helped through delivery. From there, the rest of the pieces came together. She never would have heard about this if not for you and Rowan. You orchestrated this perfectly, Mari.”

  “With your help. Rowan is lucky to have such great friends.”

  And with those words she realized she didn’t have people to reach out to in a crisis. She had work acquaintances, and she had family members she kept at arm’s length. She spent her life focused on her lab. She’d sealed herself off from the world, running from meaningful relationships as surely as she ran from the press. Shutting herself away from her parents’ disapproval—her father wanting her to assume her role of princess, her mother encouraging her to be a rebellious child embracing a universe beyond. Ultimately she’d disappointed them both. Rowan and this baby were her first deep connections in so long….

  And it was tearing her apart to say goodbye to them.

  She didn’t want this pain. She wanted her safe world back. The quiet and order of her research lab, where she could quantify results and predict outcomes.

  The buzzer sounded again and Mari bit her lip to keep from shouting in denial. Damn it, she would stay in control. She would see this through in a calm manner, do nothing to upset Issa.

  Even though every cell in her cried out in denial.

  * * *

  Rowan watched helplessly as Mari passed the baby over to her relatives—a couple he’d made damn sure to investigate to the fullest. He’d relocated orphans countless times in his life and he’d always been careful, felt the weight of responsibility.

  Never had that weight felt this heavy on his shoulders.

  He studied the couple, in their fifties, the husband in a crisp linen suit, the wife in a colorful dress with a matching headscarf. The aunt took Issa from Mari’s arms while the uncle held a diaper bag.

  Mari twisted her hands in front of her, clearly resisting the temptation to yank the baby back. “She likes to be held close, but facing outward so she can see what’s going on. And you have to burp her after every ounce of formula or she spits up. She likes music—”

  Her voice cracked.

  The aunt placed a hand on her arm. “Thank you for taking such good care of little Issa, Princess. If we had known about our niece’s intentions, we would have volunteered to take Issa immediately. But when a young mother assures you she is fine, who would ever think to step in and offer to take her child? Trust us though, we will shower her with love. We will make sure she always knows you have been her guardian angel….”

  With teary eyes, Mari nodded, but said nothing.

  Troy stepped into the awkward silence. “My wife and I will escort you to your car through a back entrance to be sure the press doesn’t overrun you.”

  Thank God, Troy quickly ushered them out before this hellish farewell tore them all in half. Rowan stole one last look at the baby’s sweet chubby-cheeked face, swallowed hard and turned to Mari. No doubt she needed him more now.

  The second the door closed behind the Donavans, Mari’s legs folded.

  She sank into the rocking chair again, nearly doubled over as she gulped in air. Her lovely face tensed with pain as she bit her lower lip. “Rowan, I don’t think,” she gasped, “I can’t…I can’t give my presentation this afternoon.”

  He understood the feeling. Rowan hooked his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll call the conference coordinator. I’ll tell them you’re sick.”

  “But I’m never sick.” She looked up at him with bemused eyes, bright with unshed tears. “I never bow out at work. What’s wrong with me?”

  “You’re grieving.” So was he. Something about this child was different, maybe because of the role she’d played in bringing Mari to him. Maybe because of the Christmas season. Or perhaps simply because the little tyke had slipped past the defenses he worked so hard to keep in place as he faced year after year of treating bone-crushing poverty and sickness. “You’re human.”

  “I only knew her a few days. She’s not my child….” Mari pressed a hand to her chest, rubbing a wound no less deep for not being visible. “I shouldn’t be this upset.”

  “You loved her—you still do.” He shifted around to kneel in front of her, stroking her face, giving Mari comfort—a welcome distraction when he needed it most. “That’s clear to anyone who saw you with her.”

  “I know, damn it.” She blinked back tears. “I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want to feel any of this. I just need…this.”

  Mari grabbed his shirt front, twisted her fist in the fabric and yanked him toward her as she fell into him. Rowan absorbed their fall with his body, his shoulders meeting the thick carpet. Mari blanketed him, her mouth meeting his with a frenzy and intensity there was no denying. She’d found an outlet for her grief and he was damn well ready to help her with that. They both needed this.

  Needed an outlet for all the frustrated emotions roaring through the room.

  She wriggled her hips erotically against his ready arousal. A moan of pleasure slipped from her lips as she nipped his ear. There was no need to be silent any longer. Their suite was empty. Too empty. Their first encounter had been focused on staying quiet, in control as they discovered each other for the first time.

  Tonight, control didn’t exist.

  He pushed those thoughts away and focused on Mari, on making sure she was every bit as turned on as he was. He gathered the hem of her dress and bunched it until he found the sweet curve of her bottom. He guided her against him, met her with a rolling rhythm of his own, a synchronicity they’d discovered together last night.

  Sitting up, increasing the pressure against his erection, she yanked his shirt open, buttons popping free and flying onto the carpet. Her ragged breathing mingled with his. He swept her dress off and away until she wore only a pale green satin bra and underwear. He was quickly realizing her preference for soft, feminine lingerie and he enjoyed peeling it from her. He flung the bra to rest on the bar. Then twisted his fist in her panties until the thin strap along her hip snapped. The last scrap of fabric fell away.

  She clasped his head in her hands and drew his face to her breasts. Her guidance, her demands, made him even harder. He took her in his mouth, enjoying the giving as much as the taking. Her moans and sighs were driving him wild. And yes, he had his own pent-up frustrations to work out, his own regret over seeing Issa leave… He shut down those thoughts, grounding himself in the now.

  Arching onto her heels, Mari fumbled with the fly of his pants.

  “Condom,” he groaned. “In my pocket.”

  He lifted his butt off the floor and she stroked behind him to pluck the packet free. Thank heaven he’d thought to keep one on him even in a crisis. Because he couldn’t stomach the thought of stopping, not even for an instant.

  Then he felt her hands on him, soft, stroking. He throbbed at her touch as she sheathed him in the condom, then took him inside her. His head dug back as he linked fingers with her, following the ride where she took him, hard and fast, noisy and needy. The fallout would have to take care of itself, because right now, they were both locked in a desperate drive to block out the pain of loss.

  Already, he could feel the building power of his release rolling through him. He gritted his teeth, grinding back the need to come. Reaching between them to ease her over the edge with him. One look at her face, the crescendo of her sweet cries, told him she was meeting him there now. He thrust, again and again until his orgasm throbbed free while hers pulsed around him.

  He
caught her as she collapsed into his arms. He soaked in the warmth of her skin, the pounding of her heart—hell, everything about her.

  The cooling air brought hints of reality slithering back, the world expanding around them. The roaring in his ears grew louder, threatening this pocket of peace. It was too soon for him to take her again, but that didn’t rule out other pleasurable possibilities.

  Rowan eased Mari from him and onto her back. He kissed her mouth, her jaw, along her neck, inhaling the floral essence of her. Her hands skimmed up and down his spine as she reclined languidly. Smiling against her skin, he nipped his way lower, nuzzling and stroking one breast then the other.

  “Rowan?”

  “Shhh…” He blew across her damp nipple. The damp brown tip pebbled even tighter for him and he took her in his mouth, flicking with his tongue.

  He sprinkled kisses along the soft underside, then traveled lower, lower still until he parted her legs and stroked between her thighs, drawing a deep sigh from her. He dipped his head and breathed in the essence of her, tasted her. Teased at the tight bundle of nerves until she rambled a litany of need for more. He was more than happy to comply.

  A primitive rush of possession surged through him. She was his. He cupped the soft globes of her bottom and brought her closer to him, circled and laved, worked her until her fingers knotted restlessly in his hair. He took her to the edge of completion again, then held back, taking her to the precipice again and again, knowing her orgasm would be all the more powerful with the build.

  Her head thrashed against the carpet and she cried out his name as her release gripped her. Her hands flung out, knocking over an end table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor.

  He watched the flush of completion spread over her as he slid back up to lay beside her. The evening breeze drifted over them, threatening to bring reality with it.

  There was only one way to make it through the rest of this night. Make love to Mari until they both collapsed with exhaustion. Rolling to his knees, he slid his arms under her, lifting as he stood. He secured her against his chest, the soft give of her body against his stirring him.