A Daddy For Christmas. Alison RobertsЧитать онлайн книгу.
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