“Yeah,” Sin-Jin murmured in response, “lucky.” He saw Sherry lift her hand, groping for his. He took it, wrapping his fingers around hers. He raised an inquisitive brow.
“Did I say thank you?” she whispered.
Sin-Jin nodded. “Yes, you did.”
Her eyes held his for a long moment, the sounds around them fading, becoming just so much background noise. “It wasn’t enough.”
The doors sprang open and suddenly they were mobile again. Sherry’s fingers remained wrapped around his. Sin-Jin was forced to accompany her as her gurney was hurried down the corridor.
And then the team broke ranks. A nurse and an orderly were guiding the bassinet in another direction. “My baby, where are they taking my baby?” Sherry cried.
The doctor leaned over her gurney. “He’s being taken to the neonatal division.” His voice was soothing, reassuring. “Don’t worry, he’ll be well taken care of.” Issuing orders regarding the nature of Sherry’s immediate treatment, the doctor turned toward Sin-Jin. “If you want to hang around, you can visit with her once we’ve checked her over and gotten her to a room.”
He’d already come farther than he should have. Sin-Jin began to back away. “That’s all right, I just wanted to make sure she and the baby were taken care of.”
The doctor looked unconvinced. “You’re sure?”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Turning on his heel, he walked directly into a nurse. Startled, the woman backed up. Her mouth dropped open and then he saw it, that look of recognition he’d come to dread.
“Aren’t you…?”
“No,” he said curtly, hurrying past her toward the public elevators before the woman had a chance to ask another question.
As he turned down the corridor, he saw a cluster of reporters and camera crews camped not too far from one of the birthing rooms. He ducked his head down, but not before he’d accidentally made eye contact with one of the cameramen.
Adair. Rusty recognized him instantly. What the hell was he doing here? The man was supposed to be off at a mountain retreat. He’d sent Sherry there.
Concerned, Rusty peered after the man. It was Adair, he was sure of it. He’d been sitting here, cooling his heels for the better part of three hours, waiting for Jennifer Allen, last year’s Oscar winner and this year’s latest mom-to-be, to give birth. He’d been called down by the station manager and told to join Sherry’s anchor replacement, a woman with air pockets for brains. Along with her fellow reporters, he and Lisa Willows were waiting to break the story for the benefit of a Hollywood-enthralled public in need of its latest celebrity fix.
If Adair was here, had he sent Sherry off on a wild-goose chase? Rusty turned and handed a dumbfounded Lisa his camera. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?” Lisa called after him.
“Men’s room,” he tossed over his shoulder. He figured that would do as an excuse.
Rusty turned the corner to where the elevators were located just as Adair got inside. “Wait up,” he called.
Sin-Jin had no intentions of doing any such thing. Instead he pressed the button that closed the doors. The last thing he saw was the cameraman racing toward him.
Just his luck, Sin-Jin thought, annoyed. He would have to stumble across a nest of reporters just as he flew a new mother and her baby in. Apparently no good deed went unpunished.
As he rode up in the elevator, he wondered how long he had before some kind of trumped-up story would break. He was certain the reporters would get wind of his being here. He’d had to identify himself when he asked to land on the roof. It was only a matter of time before someone found out about the emergency flight and the baby who had necessitated it.
They’d probably think that the baby was his.
Great. He was going to suffer slings and arrows without ever having even held the woman’s hand.
Well, not quite, he amended as he got out on the roof and remembered the way Sherry had looked at him. She’d clutched at his hand and he’d held hers. But that in no way balanced out what he felt certain was going to come his way. He’d had his share of media circuses.
Getting into the helicopter, Sin-Jin started the engine and then cleared the landing pad. He still had part of today and tomorrow before him to try to forget about the rest of the world. That included an overly intrusive news reporter.
Somehow he didn’t think he was going to have much luck, but damned if he wasn’t going to try.
Chapter Six
“What do you think you’re doing having the baby without me?”
Her eyes felt as if they were each weighted down with two fifty-pound plates. With supreme effort, Sherry fought off the drugging effects of well-earned sleep and roused herself as the familiar voice pushed itself into her consciousness.
Surfacing was not easy when every single bone in her body screamed for oblivion or, at the very least, sleep.
When she finally managed to open her eyes, she saw Rusty standing over her, his thin face looking far more drawn and concerned than she recalled seeing in a long time.
Sherry filled her lungs with air before offering a response. “Couldn’t be helped.” Her reporter’s mind kicked in belatedly. Why had he come? Had someone called him? “How did you know I was here?”
As far as she knew, no one knew she was at Blair yet. She hadn’t even had the energy to call either of her parents, or Owen. She’d planned to do that after her nap.
“I’m here with Lisa Willows, staking out Jennifer Allen.” Rusty nodded toward the door in the general direction of the media circus he’d left behind. “She went into labor early this morning.”
This morning. That was when she’d gone into labor. Or was that a hundred years ago?
“Small world.” The statement came as a sigh.
“I’ll say.” Ordinarily not a demonstrative man, Rusty took her hand gently in his. He looked at her with concern. “I looked up and saw Adair walking down the hall. I got this feeling in my gut.” Rusty shook his head. “More like a sick feeling, actually, because I knew you’d gone to that cabin retreat to get a lead on him… Are you all right, Sherry?”
It was the same tone he’d used when he’d found out about her quitting the TV station. This time, she didn’t have to force a smile to her lips. “I’m fine, achy but fine.”
“What happened?”
“I cornered him and went into labor.” She laughed at the sound of that.
“But everything turned out okay.” He looked at her flattened stomach. “I guess you got here in time.”
The words were hard to push out, but she wanted Rusty to know. Someone should know that Adair wasn’t the ogre people thought he was. “No, actually, Adair delivered my baby.”
Very few things surprised Rusty, but this seemed to qualify. His mouth dropped open as he stared at her. “You’re kidding. Darth Vader, the corporate raider, delivered your baby?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He peered at her face. “You’re sure you’re not just hallucinating? They give you these drugs sometimes—”
“No, I’m not hallucinating.” The last few hours were a blur now, dotted with hazy, touching moments and covered in pain. “Adair was very competent—and gentle—from what I remember.”
“How did you manage to get here? Medevac?”
“More like Adair-evac.” She laughed at the look on Rusty’s face and immediately regretted it. There were parts of her body that didn’t welcome any kind of exertion no matter how minor. “Adair flew the baby and me here in his helicopter. I didn’t realize that Blair had a helicopter landing pad.”
“This sounds like one of those improbable movies.”
Sherry felt her existing energy ebbing away. “It does, doesn’t it?”
“Hell of an angle you got on your story, kid.” He spaced his hands in the air, framing a headline. “‘St. John Adair delivered my baby.”’ Glancing toward Sherry, he saw her shiver. He dropped his hands, immediately solicitous. “W
hat’s wrong? Want me to get you a blanket, ring for the nurse, what?”
She groped for his hand, stopping him before he could race off. “No, I’m all right, Rusty. It’s just when you put it that way, it sounds like something the tabloids would run.”
“You’ve got a hell of a lot more finesse than a tabloid,” Rusty assured her. “You’ll find the right way to phrase it.”
“Yes.”
But even as she said it, Sherry could feel a small glimmer of doubt nudging its way forward. Adair had done something good for her, could she pay him back by doing the one thing he dreaded? Exposing his actions to the scrutiny of the general public.
Damn it, wasn’t that why she went up there in the first place? And this was a good thing, it would negate his image as a cold-blooded predator. Or at the very least temper it.
The momentary mental debate tired her even more. There was time for a decision later. Right now, there were more urgent things to tend to than securing her byline in a new area.
She pressed the button on the side railing, and the upper portion of her bed rose.
“Don’t tell anyone, Rusty.”
“Hey, it’s your exclusive, kid. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just visiting a friend.”
She smiled her gratitude. “Do me one more favor.”
“You caught me in a generous mood. What?”
She indicated the telephone that was just out of reach on the nightstand. “Bring the phone over closer, will you? I need to call my parents to let them know they’ve just entered the grand stage.”
He placed the telephone on the table beside her. “Your mother’s going to love that,” he quipped.
She grinned. “Mom’s still looking for a title that won’t make her feel old.”
“How about ‘Your Highness’?”
“Not warm enough.” Sherry began dialing. “Have you seen him yet? My son,” she added. My son. How incredible that sounded.
“I’ll do that now. Be back in a little while,” Rusty promised.
Sherry nodded in response, waving goodbye as she heard the receiver on the other end being picked up. “Hi, Mom. Guess what?”
She’d left her purse.
The shapeless black leather shoulder bag was now sitting on the coffee table, silently mocking him, reminding him that he had unfinished business.
Sin-Jin hadn’t seen the purse when he’d walked back into the cabin that afternoon. It probably would have remained on the floor under the table if it hadn’t been for Greta. The setter had drawn his attention to it by barking at the bag as if it was some kind of dark interloper.
Stretched out on the sofa, about to finally dig into Tom Clancy’s latest action thriller, he’d told the dog to be quiet. Greta had responded by placing the bag at his feet.
Looking at the offending item now, he frowned. He’d intended to have no further contact with Sherry Campbell. Now he had her purse, which necessitated interaction of some sort, even if just through a courier. He wasn’t about to entrust something as important as a purse to the postal service.
For just a moment he considered looking through the purse. After all, she’d invaded his privacy. He would be within his rights invading hers. Turnabout was only fair play.
He left the purse where it was.
Fair play or not, by rifling through it he’d be sacrificing his principles, giving in to the curiosity that unexpectedly spiked through him.
So far the woman had managed to invade his life and come perilously close to sabotaging his principles.
“Looks like we’re not rid of her yet, eh, Greta?”
The Irish setter barked. He could have sworn there was a sympathetic note in the sound and that she was agreeing with him.
With a resigned sigh, Sin-Jin abandoned Tom Clancy and rose to his feet, feeling too restless to settle in and give the book its due. He needed to move, to clear his brain.
“C’mon, girl, let’s go for a walk.” He took her red leash down from the hook where he kept it when they visited the cabin. “But if you flush out any more reporters, you’re going straight to the pound where I found you.” Greta wagged her tail in response, fairly hopping from paw to paw, nothing short of unlimited adoration in her big brown eyes. Sin-Jin wasn’t taken in for a moment. “Don’t give me that smug look,” he warned.
Looping her leash over her head and securing it, he walked out the door. It was going to be a long walk.
Sherry braced her hand against the railing to steady herself and give support to knees that still insisted on being wobbly. She was in the hospital corridor, looking in through the large bay window. The neonatal ICU was located just down the hall from the regular nursery, where all the babies who didn’t have problems were safely nestled—on display for doting parents, relatives and friends to come by and view them.
Here, the population was greatly reduced. There were only ten incubators in the neonatal intensive care unit. Ten little souls were born tinier than the rest, but just as mighty, just as pure.
She leaned her forehead against the glass, telling herself everything was going to be all right. She forced back tears so she could see him more clearly. Her son’s incubator was positioned second from the left. Tiny baby girls buffered him on both sides. She prayed for all of them.
This was the third time she’d made the pilgrimage today. Three times so that she could assure herself that all was well. That her son was well. Because he was hooked up to a machine that monitored his vital signs, he couldn’t be brought to her, but she could come to visit him all she wanted.
Earlier today she’d actually held him for a few minutes. She’d sat down in a rocking chair while a young nurse had carefully placed her baby in her arms. His weight hardly registered. The lump in her throat felt heavier.
She had bags of sugar in her pantry that weighed more.
Holding him had been almost too much for her. Giving him back to the nurse had been harder.
He looked so tiny, she thought, lying there, one tube monitoring every breath he took, every function of his body, another allowing him to get the nourishment he needed. She should be the one nourishing him, not some tube. It hurt her heart just to look at him.
It was all her fault.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself.”
The deep voice startled her. It was as if it had somehow delved into her mind, into her heart.
She placed it instantly, before she even turned around.
Adair.
The very last person in the world she would have expected. With effort, still bracing herself on the railing, she managed to half turn her body toward him. The casual look was gone. He was back in uniform again: an expensive designer suit, complete with a shirt and tie, the cost of which would probably feed a family of six for a month.
“What makes you think I blame myself?”
He’d seen it in her eyes, reflected in the ICU glass as he came up behind her. “I didn’t get to where I am today by not being able to read body language.”
At another time she might have made an attempt to protest, but it was taking all the energy she had just to stand here. Besides, he was right. She did feel guilty. “If I hadn’t gone up there after you—”
He’d never had much patience with second-guessing a situation. And hindsight was only good if it taught you something about the future, not the past. “He still might have arrived early. You didn’t exactly play half-court basketball that day.”
“Maybe not, but I did walk up the side of a mountain.”
“Half a mile,” Sin-Jin pointed out. He’d located her car after he’d returned. She hadn’t lied, the car wouldn’t start. The battery had been a faulty one. He’d had the local mechanic put in a new one, then hired the man’s two sons to bring the car back into the city. “And you walked, you didn’t hop.”
That he was actually trying to make her feel better stunned her. Was this the same man who’d ruthlessly gone in and closed down a chain of discount department stores that had been around fo
r the past fifty-one years? “Still, I can’t help thinking—”
“What-ifs only make you doubt yourself the next time you have a decision to make,” he informed her gruffly. “Don’t waste your time on them.”
“Is that the secret of your success?”
“Let’s keep this friendly,” he advised. “No questions.”
For the time being, she retreated. Adair had delivered her son. She owed him. But there was one thing she did want to know. “Not even to ask what you’re doing here?”
“I could say I was stalking you to give you a taste of your own medicine—”
Her eyes met his and she experienced a little shiver that took her utterly by surprise.
“Being stalked by a rich, handsome man, I think I can handle that.” She turned completely away from the ICU window, intending on walking back to her room, but the simple motion made her light-headed. Afraid of passing out, she grabbed for his arm, her fingers digging in before she realized what she was doing. Sherry flushed, “Sorry, every time I’m around you, I seem to get light-headed.”
What little color she’d had in her cheeks was draining away. “Maybe I should get you into bed,” he said.
That sounded like a very good idea, but she felt the need to cover her weakness with a quip. “Why, Mr. Adair, I bet you say that to all the women you meet.”
“Only the ones in fuzzy blue slippers,” he dead-panned. The expression on his face was dubious. “Can you walk?”
“I can walk,” she assured him with less than unwavering confidence. One tentative step later had her hesitating. “Maybe if I just held on to your arm—for good luck.”
“Nobody’s ever said that to me before.” Sin-Jin presented his arm to her, waiting. She hooked her arm through it, trying hard not to lean on him too much. They began to walk down the hallway very slowly. “So what are you doing here, besides providing escort service to wobbly newly minted mothers?”
“I brought your purse.” She looked at him quizzically. With everything that had happened, she’d forgotten all about that. “You left it in the cabin. And,” he slipped his free hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, “to give you this.”
A Billionaire and a Baby Page 7