A Daddy For Christmas: Yuletide Baby Surprise / Maybe This Christmas...? / The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby. Alison Roberts
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arrived.”
Mari pressed her fingers to her still tingling lips, wondering if a day apart would be enough time to shore up her defenses again before their evening out.
* * *
That evening, Rowan pushed the baby stroller along the marketplace road. Vendors lined the street, and he eyed the place for potential trouble spots. Even with bodyguards trailing them, he kept watch. The baby in the stroller depended on him.
And so did the woman beside him. Mari wore her business suit, without the jacket, just the skirt and blouse, a scarf wrapped over her head and large sunglasses on for disguise, looking like a leggy 1940s movie star.
She strolled beside him, her hand trailing along stalls that overflowed with handwoven cloths and colorful beads. Bins of fresh fruits and vegetables sat out, the scent of roasting turkey and goat carrying on the salty beach breeze. Waves crashed in the distance, adding to the rhythmic percussion of a local band playing Christmas tunes while children danced. Locals and tourists angled past in a crush, multiple languages coming at him in stereo—Cape Verdean Creole, Portuguese, French, English...and heaven knew how many others.
Tonight, he finally had Mari out of the work world and alone with him. Okay, alone with him, a baby, bodyguards and a crush of shoppers.
The last rays of the day bathed Mari in a crimson glow. She hadn’t referenced their kiss earlier, so he’d followed her lead on that, counting it a victory that she wasn’t running. Clearly, she’d been as turned on as he was. But still, she hadn’t run.
With the taste of her etched in his memory, there was not a chance in hell he was going anywhere. More than ever, he was determined to get closer to her, to sample a hell of a lot more than her lips.
But he was smart enough to take his time. This woman was smart—and skittish. He made his living off reading subtle signs, deciphering puzzles, but this woman? She was the most complex individual he’d ever met.
Could that be a part of her appeal? The mysterious element? The puzzle?
The “why” of it didn’t matter so much to him right now. He just wanted to make the most of this evening out and hopefully gain some traction in identifying Issa’s family. While they’d gotten a few curious looks from people and a few surreptitiously snapped photos, so far, no one had openly approached them.
He checked left and right again, reconfirming their unobtrusive security detail, ensuring the men were close enough to intervene if needed. Colonel Salvatore had been very accommodating about rounding up the best in the business ASAP, although he still had no answers on the baby’s identity. Issa’s footprints hadn’t come up in any databases, but then the child could have been a home birth, unregistered. Salvatore had insisted he hadn’t come close to exhausting all their investigative options yet.
For now, their best lead would come from controlled press exposure, getting the child seen and praying some legit relative stepped up to claim her.
Meanwhile, Rowan finally had his chance to be with Mari, to romance her, and what better place than in this country he loved, with holiday festivities lightening the air. He would have cared for the baby even if Mari had opted out, so he didn’t feel guilty about using the child to persuade Mari to stay. He was just surprised she’d agreed so easily.
That gave him pause—and encouragement.
She hesitated at a stall of clay bowls painted with scenes of everyday life. She trailed her fingers along a piece before moving on to the jewelry, where she stopped for the longest time yet. He’d found her weakness. He wouldn’t have pegged her as the type to enjoy those sorts of baubles, but her face lit up as she sifted through beads, necklaces. She seemed to lean more toward practical clothes and loose-fitting suits or dresses. Tonight she wore a long jean jumper and thick leather sandals.
Her hand lingered on the bracelets before she stepped back, the wistfulness disappearing from her golden eyes. “We should find somewhere to eat dinner. The conference food has left me starving for something substantial.”
“Point the way. Ladies choice tonight,” he said, curious to know what she would choose, what she liked, the way he’d just learned her preferences on the bracelets. Shoppers bustled past, cloth sacks bulging with purchases, everything from souvenirs to groceries.
Instinctively, she moved between the baby stroller and the hurrying masses. “How about we eat at a street-side café while we watch the performances?”
“Sounds good to me.” He could keep watch better that way, but then he always kept his guard up. His work with Interpol showed him too well that crime didn’t always lurk in the expected places.
He glanced down the street, taking in the carolers playing drums and pipes. Farther down, a group of children acted out the nativity in simple costumes. The sun hadn’t gone down yet, so there was less worry about crime.
Rowan pointed to the nearby café with blue tables and fresh fish. “What about there?”
“Perfect, I’ll be able to see royal watchers coming.”
“Although your fan club seems to have taken a break.” He wheeled the stroller toward the restaurant where the waitress instructed them to seat themselves. Issa still slept hard, sucking on a fist and looking too cute for words in a red Christmas sleeper.
Mari laughed, the scarf sliding down off her head, hanging loosely around her neck. “Funny how I couldn’t escape photo-happy sorts at the hotel—” she tugged at either end of the silky scarf “—and yet now no one seems to notice me when some notoriety could serve some good.”
“Issa’s photo has already been released to law enforcement. If nothing comes of it by tomorrow morning, the story will break about our involvement and add an extra push. For now, anyway, the baby and I make good camouflage for you to savor your dinner.”
“Mama-flage,” she said as he held out her chair for her.
“Nice! I’m enjoying your sense of humor more and more.” And he was enjoying a lot more about her as well this evening. He caught the sweet floral scent on her neck as he eased her chair into place.
His mind filled with images of her wearing only perfume and an assortment of the colorful beads from the marketplace. Damn, and now he would be awake all night thinking about the lithe figure she hid under her shapeless suits.
Mari glanced back at him, peering over her sunglasses, her amber eyes reflecting the setting sun. “Is something the matter?”
“Of course not.” He took his seat across from her, his foot firmly on the stroller even knowing there were a half-dozen highly trained bodyguards stationed anonymously around them. She might not use them, but he’d made sure to hire a crew for the safety of both Mari and Issa.
The waitress brought glasses and a pitcher of fruit juice—guava and mango—not showing the least sign of recognizing the royal customer she served. This was a good dry run for when they would announce their joint custody publicly.
“What a cute baby,” the waitress cooed without even looking at them. “I just love her little red Christmas outfit. She looks like an adorable elf.” She toyed with toes in tiny green booties.
“Thank you,” Mari said, then mouthed at Rowan, “Mama-flage.”
After they’d placed their order for swordfish with cachupa—a mixture of corn and beans—Mari leaned back in her chair, appearing far more relaxed than the woman who’d taken refuge in his suite the night before. She eased the sunglasses up to rest on top of her head.
“You look like you’ve had a couple of servings of grogue.” Grogue was a sugar cane liquor drunk with honey that flowed freely here.
“No alcohol for me tonight, thank you.” She lifted a hand. “My turn to watch the baby.”
“I don’t mind taking the night shift if you’re not comfortable.”
She raised a delicately arched dark eyebrow.