This was not the first time the thought had come to her. By the time she’d exited the elevator, she was already second-guessing the kiss, the flirting, the whole crazy plan. She knew that Rowan wanted her. She just couldn’t figure out why.
Until she had more answers, she couldn’t even consider taking things further.
She sat up again, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. Besides, she had a baby to take care of and a phone call to make. Since Issa still slept blissfully in the lacy bassinet after her bottle, Mari could get to that other pressing concern.
Her father.
She swiped her cell phone off the teak end table and thumbed auto-dial…two rings later, a familiar voice answered and Mari blurted out, “Papa, we need to talk….”
Her father’s booming laugh filled the earpiece. “About the boyfriend and the baby you’ve been hiding from me?”
Mari squeezed her eyes shut, envisioning her lanky father sprawled in his favorite leather chair on the lanai, where he preferred to work. He vowed he felt closer to nature out there, closer to his country, even though three barriers of walls and guards protected him.
Sighing, she pressed two fingers to her head and massaged her temples. “How did you hear about Rowan and Issa? Have you had spies watching me? And why did you assign bodyguards without consulting me?”
“One question at a time, daughter dear. First, I heard about your affiliation with Dr. Boothe and the baby on the internet. Second, I do not spy on my family—not often, anyway. And third, whatever bodyguards you’re referring to, they’re not mine. I assume they’re on your boyfriend’s payroll.”
Her head throbbed over Rowan hiring bodyguards without consulting her. Her life was snowballing out of control.
“He’s not my boyfriend—” even though they’d kissed and she’d enjoyed the hell out of it “—and Issa is not our baby. She’s a foster child, just like Rowan said at the restaurant.”
Even though her heart was already moved beyond measure by the chubby bundle sleeping in the frilly bassinet next to her bed.
“I know the baby’s not yours, Mariama.”
“The internet strikes again?” She flopped back, rolling to her side and holding a pillow to her stomach as she monitored the steady rise and fall of Issa’s chest as she slept.
“I keep tabs on you, daughter dear. You haven’t been pregnant and you’ve never been a fan of Rowan Boothe.”
An image flashed in her mind of Rowan pacing the sitting room with Issa in his arms. “The baby was abandoned in Dr. Boothe’s hotel room and we are both watching over her while the authorities try to find her relatives. You know how overburdened Africa is with orphans. We just couldn’t let her go into the system when we had the power to help her.”
“Hmm…” The sound of him clicking computer keys filtered through the phone line—her father never rested, always worked. He took his position as leader seriously, no puppet leadership role for him. “And why are you working with a man you can’t stand to help a child you’ve never met? He could have taken care of this on his own.”
“I’m a philanthropist?”
“True,” her dad conceded. “But you’re also a poor liar. How did the child become your responsibility?”
She’d never been able to get anything past her wily father. “I was trying to get away from a group of tourists trying to steal a photo of me at the end of a very long day. I grabbed a room-service tray and delivered it.” The whole crazy night rolled through her mind again and she wondered what had possessed her to act so rashly. Never, though, could she have foreseen how it would end. “Turns out it was for Rowan Boothe and there was an abandoned baby inside. There’s nothing going on between us.”
A squawk from Issa sent her jolting upright again to pat the baby’s back. An instant later, a tap sounded on the door from the suite beyond. She covered the mouthpiece on the phone. “We’re okay.”
Still, the bedroom door opened, a quizzical look on Rowan’s face. “Everything all right?”
“I’ve got it.” She uncovered the phone. “Dad, I need to go.”
Rowan lounged against the doorjamb, his eyes questioning. Pressing the phone against her shoulder to hold it to her ear, she tugged her skirt over her knees, curling her bare toes.
“Mari, dear,” her father said, “I do believe you have gotten better at lying after all. Seems like there’s a lot going on in your life I don’t know about.”
Her pulse sped up, affirming her father was indeed right. This wasn’t just about Issa. She was lying to herself in thinking there was nothing more going on with Rowan. His eyes enticed her from across the room, like a blue-hot flame drawing a moth.
But her father waited on the other end of the line. Best to deflect the conversation, especially while the object of her current hormonal turmoil stood a few feet away. “You should be thrilled about this whole setup. It will make for great publicity, a wonderful story for your press people to spin over the holidays. Papa, for once I’m not a disappointment.”
Rowan scowled and Mari wished she could call back the words that had somehow slipped free. But she felt the weight of the knowledge all the same. The frustration of never measuring up to her parents’ expectations.
“Mari, dear,” her father said, his voice hoarse, “you have never been a disappointment.”
A bittersweet smile welled from the inside out. “You’re worse at lying than I am. But I love you anyway. Good night, Papa.”
She thumped the off button and swung her bare feet to the floor. Her nerves were a jangled mess from the emotions stirred up by talking to her dad…not to mention the smoldering embers from kissing Rowan. The stroke of his eyes over her told her they were a simple step, a simple word away from far more than a kiss.
But those tangled nerves and mixed-up feelings also told her this was not the time to make such a momentous decision. Too much was at stake, the well-being of the infant in their care…
And Mari’s peace of mind. Because it would be far too easy to lose complete control when it came to this man.
Six
Refusing to back down from Rowan’s heated gaze, Mari stiffened her spine and her resolve, closing the last three feet between them. “Why did you order bodyguards without consulting me?”
He frowned. “Where did you think they’d come from?”
“My father.”