A Daddy For Christmas: Yuletide Baby Surprise / Maybe This Christmas...? / The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
on the bedside table, his computer laptop tucked underneath. Her mind filled with images of him sprawled in that massive bed—working, reading—details about a man she’d done her best to avoid. She pulled her eyes away.
The bathroom was only a few feet away. She charged across the plush carpet, pushing the door wide. The scent of him was stronger in here, and she couldn’t resist breathing in the soapy aroma clinging to the air—patchouli, perhaps. She swallowed hard as goose bumps of awareness rose on her skin, her senses on overload.
A whimpering baby cry from the main room reminded her of her mission here. She shook off frivolous thoughts and snagged the medical bag from the marble vanity. She wrapped her hands around the well-worn leather with his name on a scratched brass plate. The dichotomy of a man this wealthy carrying such a battered bag added layers to her previously clear-cut image of him.
Clutching the bag to her stomach, she returned to the sitting room. Rowan set aside a bottle and settled the baby girl against his shoulder, his broad palm patting her back.
How exactly were they going to work this baby bargain? She had absolutely no idea.
For the first time in her life, she’d done something completely irrational. The notion that Rowan Boothe had that much power over her behavior rattled her to her toes.
She really was losing it. She needed to finish this day, get some sleep and find some clarity.
From this point forward, she would keep a firmer grip on herself. And that meant no more drooling over the sexy doc, and definitely no more sniffing his tempting aftershave.
* * *
Rowan tapped through the images on his laptop, reviewing the file on the baby, including the note he’d scanned in before passing it over to the police. He’d sent a copy of everything to Colonel Salvatore. Even though it was too early to expect results, he still hoped for some news, for the child’s sake.
Meanwhile, though, he’d accomplished a freaking miracle in buying himself time with Mari. A week or so at the most, likely more, but possibly less since her staying rested solely on the child. If relatives were found quickly, she’d be headed home. He didn’t doubt his decision, even if part of his motivation was selfish. This baby provided the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Mari, to learn more about her and figure out what made her tick. Then, hopefully, she would no longer be a thorn in his side—or a pain in his libido.
He tapped the screen back to the scanned image of the note that had been left with the baby.
Dr. Boothe, you are known for your charity and generosity. Please look over my baby girl, Issa. My husband died in a border battle and I cannot give Issa what she needs. Tell her I love her and will think of her always.
His ears tuned in to the sound of Mari walking toward him, then the floral scent of her wrapped around him. She stood behind him without speaking and he realized she was reading over his shoulder, taking in the note.
“Loves her?” Mari sighed heavily. “The woman abandoned her to a stranger based on that person’s reputation in the press.”
“I take it your heart isn’t tugged.” He closed the laptop and turned to face her.
“My heart is broken for this child—” she waved toward the sleeping infant in the baby seat “—and what’s in store for her if we don’t find answers, along with a truly loving and responsible family.”
“I’m hopeful that my contacts will have some information sooner than the police.” A reminder that he needed to make the most of his time with Mari. What if Salvatore called with concrete news tomorrow? He looked over at Mari, imagining being with her, drawing her into his bedroom, so close to where they were now. “Let’s talk about how we’ll look after the baby here during the conference.”
“Now?” She jolted in surprise. “It’s past midnight.”
“There are things to take care of, like ordering more baby gear, meeting with the hotel’s babysitting service.” He ticked off each point on his fingers. “Just trying to fill in the details on our plan.”
“You actually want to plan?” Her kissable lips twitched with a smile.
“No need to be insulting,” he bantered right back, enjoying the way she never treated him like some freaking saint just because of where he chose to work. He wasn’t the good guy the press painted him to be just because he’d reformed. The past didn’t simply go away. He still had debts that could never be made right.
“I’m being careful—finally. Like I should have been earlier.” Mari fidgeted with the hem of her untucked shirt, weariness straining her face, dark circles under her eyes. “She’s a child. A human being. We can’t just fly by the seat of our pants.”
He wanted to haul Mari into his arms and let her sleep against his chest, tell her she didn’t have to be so serious, she didn’t have to take the weight of the world on her shoulders. She could share the load with him.
Instead, he dragged a chair from the tiny teak table by the window and gestured for her to sit, to rest. “I’m not exactly without the means or ability to care for a child. It’s only for a short time until we figure out more about her past so we don’t have to fly by the seat of our pants.” He dragged over a chair for himself as well and sat across from her.
“How is it so easy for you to disregard the rules?” She slumped back.
“You’re free to go if you wish.”
She shook her head. “I brought her in here. She’s my responsibility.”
Ah, so she wasn’t in a rush to run out the door. “Do you intend to personally watch over her while details are sorted out?”
“I can hire someone.”
“Ah, that’s right. You’re a princess with endless resources,” he teased, taking her hands in his.
She pulled back. “Are you calling me spoiled?”
He squeezed her fingers, holding on, liking the feel of her hands in his. “I would never dare insult you, Princess. You should know that well enough from the provocative things I said to you five minutes ago.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nibbled on her bottom lip, surprise flickering through her eyes.
“First things first.” He thumbed the inside of her wrists.
“Your plan?” Her breathing seemed to hitch.
“We pretend to be dating and since we’re dating, and we’d be spending this holiday time together anyway, we decided to help with the child. How does that work for a plan?”
“What?” She gasped in surprise. “Do you really think people are going to believe we went from professional adversaries to lovers in a heartbeat?”
He saw her pulse throb faster, ramping up his in response.
“Lovers, huh? I like the sound of that.”
“You said—”
“I said dating.” He squeezed her hands again. “But I like your plan better.”
“This isn’t a plan.” She pulled free, inching her chair back. “It’s insanity.”
“A plan that will work. People will believe it. More than that, they will eat it up. Everyone will want to hear more about the aloof princess finding romance and playing Good Samaritan at Christmastime. If they have an actual human interest piece to write about you it will distract them from digging around to create a story.”
Her eyes went wide with panic, but she stayed in her seat. She wasn’t running. Yet. He’d pushed as far as he could for tonight. Tomorrow would offer up a whole new day for making his case.
He shoved to his feet. “Time for bed.”
“Oh, um,” she squeaked, standing, as well. “Bed?”