A Daddy For Christmas

“Sometimes we say things in anger that we don’t mean. I apologize for that.” He stretched his arm along the back of the sofa without touching her this time.

“What do you think of me?” The opinion of others hadn’t mattered to her before.... Okay, that was a lie. Her parents’ opinion mattered. She’d cared what her first lover thought of her only to find he’d used her to get into her father’s inner circle.

“Mari, I think you’re smart and beautiful.”

She grinned. “Organized and uptight.”

He smiled back. “Productive, with restrained passions.”

“I am a spoiled princess,” she admitted, unable to resist the draw of his smile, wanting to believe what she saw in his eyes. “I’ve had every luxury, security, opportunity imaginable. I’ve had all the things this baby needs, things her mother is so desperate to give her she would give her away to a stranger. I feel awful and guilty for just wanting to be normal.”

“Normal life?” He shook his head, the leather sofa creaking as he leaned back and away. “I had that so-called normal life and I still screwed up.”

She’d read the press about him, the way he’d turned his life around after a drunk-driving accident as a teen. He was the poster boy for second chances, devoting his life to making amends.

Her negative reports on his program weren’t always popular. Some cynics in the medical community had even suggested she had an ax to grind, insinuating he might have spurned her at some point. That assumption stung her pride more than a little.

Still, she couldn’t deny the good he’d done with his clinic. The world needed more people like Dr. Rowan Boothe.

“You screwed up as a teenager, but you set yourself on the right path again once you went to that military high school.”

“That doesn’t erase my mistake. Nothing can.” He plowed a hand through his hair. “It frustrates the hell out of me that the press wants to spin it into some kind of feel-good story. So yeah, I get your irritation with the whole media spin.”

“But your story gives people hope that they can turn their lives around.”

He mumbled a curse.

“What? Don’t just go Grinchy on me.” She tapped his elbow. “Talk. Like you did at dinner.”

“Go Grinchy?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Is that really a word?”

“Of course it is. I loved that movie as a child. I watched a lot of Christmas movies flying across the ocean to spend Christmas with one parent or the other. So, back to the whole Grinchy face. What gives?”

“If you want to change my mood, then let’s talk about something else.” His arm slid from the back of the sofa until his hand cupped her shoulder. “What else did you enjoy about Christmas when you were a kid?”

“You’re not going to distract me.” With his words or his touch.

“Says who?” Subtly but deliberately, he pulled her closer.

And angled his mouth over hers.

Seven

Stunned still, Mari froze for an instant. Then all the simmering passion from her dream earlier came roaring to the surface. She looped her arms around Rowan’s neck and inched closer to him on the sofa. The satin of her peignoir set made her glide across the leather smoother, easier, until she melted against him, opened her mouth and took him as boldly as he took her.

The sweep of his tongue carried the minty taste of toothpaste, the intoxicating warmth of pure him. His hands roved along her back, up and down her spine in a hypnotizing seduction. He teased his fingers up into her hair, massaging her scalp until her body relaxed, muscle by tense muscle, releasing tensions she hadn’t even realized existed. Then he stirred a different sort of tension, a coiling of desire in her belly that pulled tighter and tighter until she arched against him.

Her breasts pressed to his chest, the hard wall of him putting delicious pressure against her tender, oversensitized flesh.

He reclined with her onto the couch, tucking her beneath him with a possessive growl. She nipped his bottom lip and purred right back. The contrast of cool butter-soft leather beneath her and hot, hard male over her sent her senses on overload.

The feel of his muscled body stretching out over her, blanketing her, made her blood pulse faster, thicker, through her veins. She plucked at the leather string holding back his hair, pulled it loose and glory, glory, his hair slipped free around her fingers. She combed her hands through the coarse strands, just long enough to tickle her face as he kissed.

And this man sure did know how to kiss.

Not just with his mouth and his bold tongue, but he used his hands to stroke her, his body molding to hers. His knee slid between her legs. The thick pressure of his thigh against the core of her sent delicious shivers sparkling upward. All those sensations circled and tightened in her belly with a new intensity.

Her hands learned the planes and lines of him, along his broad shoulders, down his back to the firm butt she’d been checking out not too long ago. Every nerve ending tingled to life, urging her to take more—more of him and more of the moment.

She wanted all of him. Now.

Hooking a leg around his calf, she linked them, bringing him closer still. Her hips rocked against his, the thick length of his arousal pressing against her stomach with delicious promise of what they could have together. Soon. Although not soon enough. Urgency throbbed through her, pulsing into a delicious ache between her legs.

He swept aside her hair and kissed along the sensitive curve of her neck, nipping ever so lightly against her pulse. She hummed her approval and scratched gently over his back, along his shoulders, then down again to yank at his shirt. She couldn’t get rid of their clothes fast enough. If she gave herself too long to think, too many practical reasons to stop would start marching through her mind—

A cool whoosh of air swept over her. She opened her eyes to see Rowan standing beside the sofa. Well, not standing exactly, but halfway bent over, his hands on his legs as he hauled in ragged breath after breath. His arousal was unmistakable, so why was he pulling away?

“What? Where?” She tried again to form a coherent sentence. “Where are you going?”

He stared at her in the moonlight, his chest rising and falling hard, like he’d run for miles. His expression was closed. His eyes inscrutable.

“Good night, Mariama.”

Her brain couldn’t make his words match up with what she was feeling. Something didn’t add up. “Good night? That’s it?”

“I need to stop now.” He tucked his shirt in as he backed away. “Things are getting too intense.”

She refused to acknowledge the twinge of hurt she felt at his words. She wasn’t opening her emotions to this man.

“Yeah, I noticed.” She brazened it out, still committed to re-creating the amazing feelings from her dream. “That intensity we were experiencing about twenty seconds ago was a good thing.”

“It will be good, Mari. When you’re ready.”

Damn, but he confused her. She hated feeling like the student in need of remedial help. The one who didn’t “get” it.

“Um, hello, Rowan. I’m ready now.”

“I just need for you to be sure.” He backed away another step, his hair tousled from her hungry fingers. “See if you feel the same in the morning. Good night, Mariama.”

He pivoted into his room and closed the door behind him.

Mari sagged back on the sofa, befuddled as hell. What was his game here? He bound her to him by enlisting her help with the baby. He clearly wanted her. Yet, he’d walked away.

She wasn’t innocent. She’d been with men—two. The first was a one-night stand that had her clamping her legs shut for years to come after she’d learned he’d only wanted access to her family. Then one long-term deal with a man who’d been as introverted as her. Their relationship had dissolved for lack of attention, fading into nothing more than convenient sex. And then not so convenient. Still, the breakup had been messy, her former lover not taking well to having his ego stung over being dumped. He’d been a real jerk.

Whereas Rowan was being a total gentleman. Not pushing. Not taking advantage.

And he was driving her absolutely batty.

* * *

Holding back had threatened to drive Rowan over the edge all night long.

At least now he could move forward with the day. The salty morning breeze drifted through the open shutters as he tucked his polo shirt into his jeans, already anticipating seeing Mari. Soon. He’d never wanted a woman this much. Walking away from her last night had been almost impossible. But he was making progress. She wanted him and he needed this to be very, very reciprocal.

So he needed to move on with his plan to romance her. Neither of them had a presentation at the conference today. He suspected it wouldn’t take much persuasion to convince her to skip out on sitting through boring slide presentations and rubber chicken.

During his sleepless night, he’d racked his brain for the best way to sweep her off her feet. She wasn’t the most conventional of women. He’d decided to hedge his bets by going all out. He’d started off with the traditional stuff, a flower left on her pillow while she’d been in the shower. He’d also ordered her favorite breakfast delivered to her room. He planned to end the day with a beachside dinner and concert.

All traditional “dating” fare.

The afternoon’s agenda, however, was a bit of a long shot. But then he figured it was best to hedge his bets with her. She’d seemed surprised by the breakfast, and he could have sworn she was at least a little charmed by his invitation to spend the day together. Although he still detected a hint of wariness.

But reminding her of how they could appease the press into leaving her alone by feeding them a story persuaded her. For now, at least. He just prayed the press conference went smoothly.

Rowan opened his bedroom door and found Mari already waiting for him in the sitting area with Issa cradled in her arms. She stood by the stroller, cooing to the baby and adjusting a pink bootie, her face softening with affection.

Mari wore a long silky sheath dress that glided across subtle curves as she swayed back and forth. And the pink tropical flower he’d left on her pillow was now tucked behind her ear. He stood captivated by her grace as she soothed the infant to sleep. Minutes—or maybe more—later, she leaned to place the baby in the stroller.

She glanced to the side, meeting his gaze with a smile. “Where are we going?”

Had she known he was there the whole time? Did she also know how damn difficult it had been to walk away from her last night? “It’s a surprise.”

“That makes me a little nervous.” She straightened, gripping the stroller. “I’m not good at pulling off anything impetuous.”

“We have a baby with us.” He rested a hand on top of hers. “How dangerous could my plan be?”

Her pupils widened in response before her gaze skittered away. “Okay, fair enough.” She pulled her hand from his and touched the exotic bloom tucked in her hair. “And thank you for the flower.”

Ducking his head, he kissed her ear, right beside the flower, breathing in the heady perfume of her, even more tantalizing than the petals. “I’ll be thinking of how you taste all day long.”

He sketched a quick kiss along her regally high cheekbone before pulling back. Gesturing toward the private elevator, he followed her, taking in the swish of her curls spiraling just past her shoulders. What a time to realize how rarely he saw her with her hair down. She usually kept it pulled back in a reserved bun.

Except for last night when she’d gone to bed. And now.

It was all he could do to keep himself from walking up behind her, sliding his arms around her and pulling her flush against him. The thought of her bottom nestled against him, his face in the sweet curve of her neck...damn. He swallowed hard. Just damn.

He followed her into the elevator and thankfully the glide down went quickly, before he had too much time in the cubicle breathing in the scent of her. The elevator doors opened with a whoosh as hefty as his exhale.

His relief was short-lived. A pack of reporters waited just outside the resort entrance, ready for them to give their first official press conference. He’d expected it, of course. He’d even set this particular one up. But having Mari and the baby here put him on edge. Even knowing Elliot Starc’s detail of bodyguards were strategically placed didn’t give him total peace. He wondered what would.

Mari pushed the stroller while he palmed her back, guiding her through the lobby. Camera phones snap-snap-snapped as he ushered Mari and Issa across the marble floor. Gawkers whispered as they watched from beside towering columns and sprawling potted ferns.

The doorman waved them through the electric doors and out into chaos. Rowan felt Mari’s spine stiffen. Protectiveness pumped through him anew.

He ducked his head toward her. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can go back to the suite, dine on the balcony, spend our day off in a decadent haze of food and sunshine.”

She shook her head tightly. “We proceed as planned. For Issa, I will do anything to get the word out about her story, whatever it takes to be sure she has a real family who loves her and appreciates what a gift she is.”

Her ferocity couldn’t be denied—and it stirred the hell out of him. Before he did something crazy like kiss her until they both couldn’t think, he turned to the reporters gathered on the resort’s stone steps.

“No questions today, just a statement,” he said firmly with a smile. “Dr. Mandara and I have had our disagreements in the past, but we share a common goal in our desire...to help people in need. This is the holiday season and a defenseless child landed in our radar, this little girl. How could we look away? We’re working together to care for this baby until her family can be found. If even Mari and I can work together, then maybe there’s hope....”

He winked wryly and laughter rippled through the crowd.

Once they quieted, he continued, “That’s all for now. We have a baby, a conference agenda and holiday shopping to juggle. Thank you and Merry Christmas, everyone.”

Their bodyguards emerged from the crowd on cue and created a circular wall around them as they walked from the resort to the shopping strip.

Mari glanced up at him, her sandals slapping the wooden boardwalk leading to the stores and stalls of the shoreline marketplace. “Are we truly going shopping? I thought men hated shopping.”

“It’s better than hanging out inside eating conference food. I hope you don’t mind. If you’d rather go back...”

“Bite your tongue.” She hip-bumped him as he strode beside her.

“Onward then.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders, tucking her to him as they walked.

She glanced up at him. “Thank you.”

If he dipped his head, he could kiss her, but even though he’d set up this press coverage, he balked at that much exposure. “Thanks for what?”

“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.

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