A Daddy For Christmas. Alison Roberts
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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?”
He could see in her eyes that she’d envisioned them sharing a bed before this moment. He didn’t doubt for a second what he saw and it gave him a surge of victory. Definitely best to bide his time and wait for a moment when she wasn’t skittish. A time when she would be all in, as fully committed as he was to exploring this crazy attraction.
“Yes, Mari, bed. I’ll watch the baby tonight and if you’re comfortable, we can alternate the night shift.”
She blinked in surprise. “Right. The night schedule. Are you sure you can handle a baby at night and still participate in the conference?”
“I’m a doctor. I’ve pulled far longer shifts with no sleep in the hospital. I’ll be fine.”
“Of course. Then I’ll call the front desk to move me to a larger suite so I’ll have enough space for the baby and the daytime sitter.”
“No need to do that. This suite is plenty large enough for all of us.”
Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“All of us,” he said calmly, holding her with his eyes as fully as he’d held her hand, gauging her every blink. Needing to win her over. “It makes sense if we’re going to watch the baby, we should do it together for efficiency. The concierge already sent someone to pack your things.”
Her chest rose faster and faster, the gentle curves of her breasts pressing against the wrinkled silk of her blouse. “You’ve actually made quite a few plans.”
“Sometimes flying by the seat of your pants works quite well.” Otherwise he never would have had this chance to win her over. “A bellhop will be delivering your luggage shortly along with more baby gear that I ordered.”
“Here? The two—three—of us? In one suite?” she asked, although he noticed she didn’t say no.
Victory was so close.
“There’s plenty of space for the baby. You can have your own room. Unless you want to sleep in mine.” He grinned. “You have to know I wouldn’t object.”
Buttoning up her navy blue power suit the next morning, Mari couldn’t believe she’d actually spent the night in Rowan Boothe’s hotel suite. Not his room, but a mere wall away. He’d cared for the baby until morning as he’d promised. A good thing, since she needed to learn a lot more before she trusted herself to care for Issa.
She tucked pins into her swept-back hair, but the mirror showed her to be the same slightly rumpled academic she’d always been. While she wasn’t a total innocent when it came to men, she wasn’t the wild and reckless type who agreed to spend the night in the same suite as a guy she’d never actually dated. She’d expected to toss and turn all night after the confusing turn of events. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed.
Yet in spite of all her doubts, she’d slept better than anytime she could remember. Perhaps because the odds of anyone finding her here were next to nil. Her longtime professional feud with him was well-known, and they hadn’t yet gone public with this strange idea of joint custody of an abandoned baby. The hotel staff or someone on the police force would likely leak juicy tidbits about the royal family to the press, but it would all be gossip and conjecture until she and Rowan made their official statement verifying the situation.
Soon enough the world would know. Eventually the cameras would start snapping. Her gut clenched at the thought of all those stalkers and the press feeding on the tiniest of details, the least scrap of her life. What if they fed on the innocence of the baby?
Or what if they picked up on the attraction between her and Rowan?
There was still time to back out, write it all off as simple gossip. The urge was strong to put back on that Christmas hat and slip away, to hide in her lab, far, far from the stress of being on show and always falling short. She craved the peace of her laboratory and cubbyhole office, where she truly reigned supreme. Here, in Rowan’s suite, she felt so off-kilter, so out of control.
A coo from the other room reminded her she needed to hurry. She stepped away from the mirror and slid her feet into her low, blue pumps. She pulled open her bedroom door, then sagged to rest against the doorjamb. The sight of the little one in a ruffled pink sleeper, resting against Rowan’s shoulder, looked like something straight off a greeting card. So perfect.
Except that perfection was an illusion.
Even though Rowan had the baby well in hand, the child was helpless outside their protection. Issa had no one to fight for her, not really, not if Mari and Rowan gave up on her. Even if Mari left and Rowan stayed, he couldn’t offer the baby everything Mari could. Her fame—that fame she so resented—could be Issa’s salvation.
The baby would get an exposure the police never could have provided. In these days of DNA testing, it wasn’t as if fake relatives could step forward to claim a precious infant. So Mari wasn’t going anywhere, except to give her presentation at the medical conference, then she’d take the baby for a walk with Rowan.
Looking around the suite strewn with baby paraphernalia, anyone would believe they were truly guardians of the child. Rowan had ordered a veritable nursery set up with top-of-the-line gear. A portable bassinet rested in the corner of the main room, a monitor perched beside it. He’d ordered a swing, a car seat, plus enough clothes, food and diapers for three babies for a month.
He knew what an infant needed, or at least he knew who to call.
Hopefully that call had included a sitter since he was dressed for work as well, in a black Savile Row suit with a Christmas-red tie. God, he was handsome, with his blond hair damp and combed back, his broad hand patting the baby’s back. His face wore a perpetual five-o’clock shadow, just enough to be nighttime sexy without sliding over into scruffy.
He filled out the expensive suit with ease. Was there any realm that made this man uncomfortable? He’d taken care of the baby through the night and still looked totally put together.
His eyes searched hers and she shivered, wondering what he saw as he stood there holding Issa so easily. The man was a multitasker. He was also someone with an uncanny knack for getting into a person’s mind. He’d found her vulnerable spot in one evening. After all of her tense and bicontinental Christmases, she simply couldn’t bear for this child to spend the holidays confused and scared while the system figured out what to do with her—and the other thousands of orphans in their care.
She couldn’t replace the child’s mother, but she could make sure the child was held, cared for, secure. To do that, she needed to keep her mind off the charismatic