Alison Roberts - A Daddy For Christmas

Was he serious? Did he really want to hash that out now? He certainly looked serious, drinking his coffee and downing bites of breakfast. Maybe he was one of those people who wanted to make peace at the holidays in spite of bickering all year round. She knew plenty about that. Which should have taught her well. Problems couldn’t be avoided or the resolutions delayed. Best to confront them when given the opening.

“Your program is just too much of a snapshot of a diagnosis, too much of a quick fix. It’s like fast-food medicine. It doesn’t take into account enough variables.” Now she waited for the explosion.

He inhaled a deep breath and tipped back in his chair before answering. “I can see your point. To a degree, I agree. I would welcome the chance to give every patient the hands-on medical treatment of the best clinic in the world. But I’m treating the masses with a skeleton team of medical professionals. That computer program helps us triage in half the time.”

“What about people who use your program to cut corners?”

Rowan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You can’t truly believe the world is as altruistic as you? What about the clinics using that program to funnel more patients through just to make more money?”

His chair legs hit the floor, his jaw tightening. “I can’t be the conscience for the world,” he said in an even tone although a tic had started in the corner of his azure-blue eye. “I can only deal with the problems in front of me. I’m working my tail off to come up with help. Would I prefer more doctors and nurses, PAs and midwives, human hands? Hell, yes. But I make do with what I have and I do what I can so those of us who are here can be as efficient as possible under conditions they didn’t come close to teaching us about during my residency.”

“So you admit the program isn’t optimal?” She couldn’t believe he’d admitted to the program’s shortcomings.

“Really?” He threw up his hands. “That’s your takeaway from my whole rambling speech? I’m being practical, and you’re being idealistic in your ivory tower of research. I’m sorry if that makes you angry to hear.”

“I’m not the volatile sort.” She pursed her lips tightly to resist the temptation to snap at him for devaluing her work.

Slowly, he grinned, leaning closer. “That’s too bad.”

“Pardon me?” she asked, not following his logic at all.

“Because when you get all flustered, you’re really hot.”

Her eyes shot open wide, surprise skittering through her, followed by skepticism. “Does that line really work for you?”

“I’ve never tried it before.” He angled closer until his mouth almost brushed hers. “You’ll have to let me know.”

Before she could gasp in half a breath of air, he brushed his mouth over hers. Shock quickly turned to something else entirely as delicious tingles shimmered through her. Her body warmed to the feel of him, the newness of his kiss, their first kiss, a moment already burning itself into her memory, searing through her with liquid heat.

Her hand fluttered to his chest, flattening, feeling the steady, strong beat of his heart under her palm matching the thrumming heartbeat in her ears. His kiss was nothing like she would have imagined. She’d expected him to be out of control, wild. Instead, he held her like spun glass. He touched her with deft, sensitive hands, surgeon’s hands that knew just the right places to graze, stroke, tease for maximum payoff. Her body thrilled at the caress down her spine that cupped her bottom, bringing her closer.

Already she could feel herself sinking into a spiral of lush sensation. Her limbs went languid with desire. She wanted more of this, more of him, but they were a heartbeat away from tossing away their clothes and inhibitions. Too risky for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was the possibility of someone discovering them.

Those sorts of exposé photos she absolutely did not want circulating on the internet or anywhere else.

Then, too soon he pulled away. How embarrassing that he was the one to stop since she already knew the kiss had to end. Never had she lost control this quickly.

Cool air and embarrassment washed over her as she sat stunned in her chair. He’d completely knocked the world out from under her with one simple kiss. Had he even been half as affected as she was by the moment? She looked quickly at him, but his back was to her already and she realized he was walking toward the door.

“Rowan?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “The buzzer—” Was that a hint of hoarseness in his voice? “The baby sitter has 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.