A Daddy For Christmas: Yuletide Baby Surprise / Maybe This Christmas...? / The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
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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.
Somewhere out there, the baby’s family had to be seeing the news reports. Even if they didn’t want to claim her, surely someone would step forward with information. Even if the answer came in the form of official surrender of parental rights, at least they would know.
He understood full well how family ties didn’t always turn out to be as ideal as one would hope. Memories of his brother’s death, of his parents’ grief and denial burned through him. He charged across the sitting area to the bar. He started to reach for the scotch and stopped himself. After the way his brother died...
Hell, no.
He opted for a mug of fresh local ginger tea and one of the Christmas sugar cookies instead and leaned against the bar, staring out over the water as he bit the frosted tree cookie in half. Tomorrow, he and Mari both had conference presentations, then this weekend, the closing dinner and ball. Time was ticking away for all of them. He had to make the most of every moment. Tomorrow, he’d arranged for a spa appointment for Mari after her last presentation. Surely she would appreciate some privacy after all the scrutiny....
The door from Rowan’s room opened. Mari slid through and closed it quietly after her. “Baby’s sleeping soundly. I would have taken her tonight, you know.”
“Fair is fair,” he said. “We struck a bargain.”
“You’re a stubborn man. But then I understand that trait well.”
Walking toward him, her silvery-gray sheath dress gliding over her sleek figure, she set the nursery monitor on the edge of the bar. Christmas tunes played softly over the airwaves—jazz versions, soft and soothing. Mari had fallen into the habit of setting her iPhone beside the monitor and using the music to reassure herself the listening device was still on.
She poured herself a mug of steaming ginger tea as well, adding milk and honey. Cupping the thick pottery in both hands, she drank half then cradled the mug to her with a sigh.
He skimmed his knuckles along her patrician cheekbones. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, she set aside her glass. “I just didn’t expect the press coverage to be so...comprehensive.”
Was it his imagination or did she lean into his touch.
“You’re a princess. What you do makes the news.” Although even he was surprised at just how intense the media attention had become.
The hotel staff had closed off access to their floor aside from them and the Donavans, a measure taken after a reporter was injured on a window-washing unit trying to get a bonus photo. Rowan rubbed at a kink in the back of his neck, stress-induced from worrying his tail off about all the possible holes in the security. He wasn’t sure he felt comfortable taking Mari and Issa out of the hotel again, even with guards.
“But I wanted to bring positive coverage for Issa. Not all of these cranks...”
And she didn’t know the half of it. Troy had informed him about a handful of the more colorful leads the police hadn’t bothered mentioning. A woman claiming to be Mari’s illegitimate half sister had called to say the baby belonged to her. Another call had come from an area prison with someone saying their infant daughter resembled Issa and she thought it was her twin, whom they’d thought died at birth.
All of which turned out to be false, but there was no need to make Mari more upset by sharing the details. “My contacts will sift through them.”
“Who are these contacts you keep talking about? Like Hillary and her husband?” She picked up the glass again and sipped carefully.
His glass.
His body tightened as her lips pressed to the edge.
He cleared his throat. “I went to a military high school. Makes sense that some of them would end up in law enforcement positions.”
“It was a military reform school.” She eyed him over the rim of the tumbler through long lashes.
“Actually, about half were there because they wanted a future in the military or law enforcement.” He rattled off the details, anything to keep from thinking about how badly he wanted to take that glass from her and kiss her until they both forgot about talking and press conferences. “The rest of us were there because we got into trouble.”
“Your Alpha Brotherhood group—you trust these friends with Issa’s future?”
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