For Issa.
“Open the door and you’ll find out.”
* * *
Three hours later, Mari watched Rowan close the hotel door after the police. Stacks of paperwork rested on the table, making it official. She and Rowan had temporary custody of the baby while the police investigated further and tried to track down the employee who’d walked away from the cart.
Issa slept in her infant seat, secure for now.
Mari sighed in relief, slumping in exhaustion back onto the sofa. She’d done it. She’d played the princess card and all but demanded the police obey her “request” to care for the baby until Christmas—less than two weeks away—or until more information could be found about Issa’s parents. She’d agreed to care for the child with Rowan Boothe, a doctor who’d saved countless young lives. The police had seemed relieved to have the problem resolved so easily. They’d taken photos of the baby and prints. They would look into the matter, but their faces said they didn’t hold out much hope of finding answers.
Maybe she should hire a private detective to look deeper than the police. Except it was almost midnight now. Any other plans would have to wait until morning.
Rowan rested a hand on Mari’s shoulder. “Would you get my medical bag so I can do a more thorough checkup? It’s in the bedroom by my shaving kit. I’d like to listen to her heart.”
He squeezed her shoulder once, deliciously so, until her mouth dried right up from that simple touch.
“Medical bag.” She shot to her feet. “Right, of course.”
She was too tired and too unsettled to fight off the sensual allure of him right now. She stepped into Rowan’s bedroom, her eyes drawn to the hints of him everywhere. A suit was draped over the back of a rattan rocker by sliding doors that led out to a balcony. She didn’t consider herself a romantic by any stretch but the thought of sitting out there under the stars with someone…
God, what was the matter with her? This man had driven her bat crazy for years. Now she was daydreaming about an under-the-stars make-out session that would lead back into the bedroom. His bedroom.
Her eyes skated to the sprawling four-poster draped with gauzy netting, a dangerous place to look with his provocative glances still steaming up her memories. An e-reader rested on the bedside table, his computer laptop tucked underneath. Her mind filled with images of him sprawled in that massive bed—working, reading—details about a man she’d done her best to avoid. She pulled her eyes away.
The bathroom was only a few feet away. She charged across the plush carpet, pushing the door wide. The scent of him was stronger in here, and she couldn’t resist breathing in the soapy aroma clinging to the air—patchouli, perhaps. She swallowed hard as goose bumps of awareness rose on her skin, her senses on overload.
A whimpering baby cry from the main room reminded her of her mission here. She shook off frivolous thoughts and snagged the medical bag from the marble vanity. She wrapped her hands around the well-worn leather with his name on a scratched brass plate. The dichotomy of a man this wealthy carrying such a battered bag added layers to her previously clear-cut image of him.
Clutching the bag to her stomach, she returned to the sitting room. Rowan set aside a bottle and settled the baby girl against his shoulder, his broad palm patting her back.
How exactly were they going to work this baby bargain? She had absolutely no idea.
For the first time in her life, she’d done something completely irrational. The notion that Rowan Boothe had that much power over her behavior rattled her to her toes.
She really was losing it. She needed to finish this day, get some sleep and find some clarity.
From this point forward, she would keep a firmer grip on herself. And that meant no more drooling over the sexy doc, and definitely no more sniffing his tempting aftershave.
* * *
Rowan tapped through the images on his laptop, reviewing the file on the baby, including the note he’d scanned in before passing it over to the police. He’d sent a copy of everything to Colonel Salvatore. Even though it was too early to expect results, he still hoped for some news, for the child’s sake.
Meanwhile, though, he’d accomplished a freaking miracle in buying himself time with Mari. A week or so at the most, likely more, but possibly less since her staying rested solely on the child. If relatives were found quickly, she’d be headed home. He didn’t doubt his decision, even if part of his motivation was selfish. This baby provided the perfect opportunity to spend more time with Mari, to learn more about her and figure out what made her tick. Then, hopefully, she would no longer be a thorn in his side—or a pain in his libido.
He tapped the screen back to the scanned image of the note that had been left with the baby.
Dr. Boothe, you are known for your charity and generosity. Please look over my baby girl, Issa. My husband died in a border battle and I cannot give Issa what she needs. Tell her I love her and will think of her always.
His ears tuned in to the sound of Mari walking toward him, then the floral scent of her wrapped around him. She stood behind him without speaking and he realized she was reading over his shoulder, taking in the note.
“Loves her?” Mari sighed heavily. “The woman abandoned her to a stranger based on that person’s reputation in the press.”
“I take it your heart isn’t tugged.” He closed the laptop and turned to face her.
“My heart is broken for this child—” she waved toward the sleeping infant in the baby seat “—and what’s in store for her if we don’t find answers, along with a truly loving and responsible family.”
“I’m hopeful that my contacts will have some information sooner than the police.” A reminder that he needed to make the most of his time with Mari. What if Salvatore called with concrete news tomorrow? He looked over at Mari, imagining being with her, drawing her into his bedroom, so close to where they were now. “Let’s talk about how we’ll look after the baby here during the conference.”
“Now?” She jolted in surprise. “It’s past midnight.”
“There are things to take care of, like ordering more baby gear, meeting with the hotel’s babysitting service.” He ticked off each point on his fingers. “Just trying to fill in the details on our plan.”
“You actually want to plan?” Her kissable lips twitched with a smile.
“No need to be insulting,” he bantered right back, enjoying the way she never treated him like some freaking saint just because of where he chose to work. He wasn’t the good guy the press painted him to be just because he’d reformed. The past didn’t simply go away. He still had debts that could never be made right.