A Daddy For Christmas: Yuletide Baby Surprise / Maybe This Christmas...? / The Sheriff's Doorstep Baby. Alison Roberts
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little Issa a lot for how she’d brought them together. He was moved by the sensitive side of Mari he’d never known she had, the sweetly awkward humanity beneath the brilliant scientific brain and regal royal heritage.
Leaning toward the stroller, Rowan adjusted the baby’s bib, reassured by the steady beat of her little heart. He’d given her a thorough physical and thank God she was healthy, but she was still a helpless, fragile infant. He needed to take care of her future. And he would. He felt confident he could, with the help of Salvatore either finding the baby’s family or lining up a solid adoption.
The outcome of his situation with Mari, however, was less certain. There was no mistaking the desire in her golden eyes. Desire mixed with wariness.
A tactical retreat was in order while he waited for the appropriate moment to resume his advances. He hadn’t meant to reveal Dylan’s death to her, but their talk about the past had lulled him into old memories. He wouldn’t let that happen again.
He poured coffee from the earthen pot into his mug and hers. “You must have seen some lavish Christmas celebrations with your father.”
Her eyes were shielded, but her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her mug. “My father keeps things fairly scaled back. The country’s economy is stabilizing thanks to an increase in cocoa export, but the national treasury isn’t flush with cash, by any means. I was brought up to appreciate my responsibilities to my people.”
“You don’t have a sibling to share the responsibility.”
The words fell out of his mouth before he thought them through, probably because of all those memories of his brother knocking around in his gut. All the ways he’d failed to save Dylan’s life. If only he’d made different decisions... He forced his attention back into the present, on Mari.
“Both of my parents remarried other people, divorced again, no more kids, though.” She spread her hands, sunglasses dangling from her fingers. “So I’m it. The future of my country.”
“You don’t sound enthusiastic.”
“I just think there has to be someone better equipped.” She tossed aside the glasses again and picked up her coffee. “What? Why the surprised look? You can’t think I’m the best bet for my people. I would rather lock myself in a research lab with the coffeemaker maxed out than deal with the day-to-day events of leading people.”
“I think you will succeed at anything life puts in your path.” Who had torn down this woman’s confidence? If only she saw—believed in—her magnificence. “When you walk in a room, you damn near light up the place. You own the space with your presence, lady.”
She blew into her mug of coffee, eyeing him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence. But people and all their intangibles like ‘magnificence’ are beyond me. I like concrete facts.”
“I would say some people would appreciate logic in a leader.”
She looked away quickly, busying herself with adjusting the netting around the baby’s stroller. “I wasn’t always this way.”
“What do you mean?”
“So precise.” She darted a quick glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “I was actually a very scatterbrained child. I lost my hair ribbons in hotels, left my doll or book on the airplane. I was always oversleeping or sluggish in the morning, running late for important events. The staff was given instructions to wake me up a half hour ahead of time.”
His mom had woken him and Dylan up through elementary school, then bought them an alarm clock—a really obnoxious clock that clanged like a cowbell. No one overslept. “Did this happen in your mother’s or your father’s home?”
“Both places. My internal clock just wasn’t impressed by alarms or schedules.”
She was a kid juggling a bicontinental lifestyle, the pressures of royal scrutiny along with the social awkwardness of being at least five grades ahead of her peers.
When did she ever get to relax? “Sounds to me like you traveled quite a bit in your life. I’m sure you know that losing things during travel is as common as jet lag, even for adults.”
“You’re kind to make excuses.” She brushed aside his explanation. “I just learned to make lists and structure my world more carefully.”
“Such as?” he asked, suddenly finding the need to learn more about what shaped her life every bit as important as tasting her lips again.
“Always sitting in the same seat on an airplane. Creating a routine for the transatlantic trips, traveling at the same time.” She shrugged her elegant shoulders. “The world seemed less confusing that way.”
“Confusing?” he repeated.
She chewed her bottom lip, which was still glistening from a sip of coffee. “Forget I said anything.”
“Too late. I remember everything you say.” And what a time to realize how true that was.
“Ah, you’re one of those photographic-memory sorts. I imagine that helps with your work.”
“Hmm...” Not a photographic memory, except when it came to her. But she didn’t need to know that.
“I’m sure my routines sound a bit overboard to you. But my life feels crazy most of the time. I’m a princess. There’s no escaping that fact.” She set her mug down carefully. “I have to accept that no matter how many lists I make, my world will never be predictable.”
“Sometimes unpredictable has its advantages, as well.” He ached to trace the lines of her heart-shaped face and finish with a tap to her chin.
Her throat moved in a long swallow. “Is this where you surprise me with another kiss?”
He leaned in, a breath away, and said, “I was thinking this time you could surprise me.”
She stared back at him so long he was sure she would laugh at him for suggesting such a thing, especially out in public. Not that the public problem bothered the honeymooners at the next table. Just when Rowan was certain she would tell him to go to hell—
Mari kissed him. She closed those last two inches between them and pressed her lips to his. Closemouthed but steady. He felt drunk even though he hadn’t had anything but coffee and fruit juice all evening. The same drinks he tasted on Mari’s lips. Her hands, soft and smooth, covered his on the table. Need, hard and insistent, coursed through his body over an essentially simple kiss with a table between them.
And just that fast, she let go, pushing on his chest and dropping back into her chair.
A flush spread from her face down the vee of her blouse. “That was not... I didn’t mean...”
“Shhh.” He pressed a finger to her lips, confidence singing through him along with the hammering pulse of desire. “Some things don’t need to be analyzed. Some things simply are. Let’s finish supper so we can turn in early.”
“Are you propositioning me?” Her lips moved under his finger.
Deliberately seductive? Either way, an extra jolt of want shot through him, a want he saw echoed in her eyes.
He spread his arms wide. “Why would you think that?” he asked with a hint of the devil in his voice. “I want to turn in early. It’s your night with the baby.”
The tension eased from her shoulders and she smiled back, an ease settling between them as they bantered. God, she was incredible, smart and lithe, earnest and exotic all at once. He covered her hand with his—
A squeal from the next table split the air. “Oh, my God, it’s her.” The honeymooner at the next table tapped her husband’s arm insistently. “That princess...Mariama! I want a picture with her. Get me a photo, pretty please, pookie.”
Apparently the mama-flage had stopped working. They didn’t have until the morning for Mari to become comfortable with the renewed