Hannah's Baby. Cathy Thacker Gillen

a hot shower, some clean pajamas…and a comfortable bed. “I asked for two rooms. Not one.”

      The clerk looked confused. He consulted the computer screen in front of him. “Two adults,” he replied in carefully enunciated English, with a slight respectful bow of his head. “Two beds.”

      “Two adults, two beds, and two rooms,” Hannah stipulated as clearly as possible. She turned her hand, palm up, hoping that physical action would accomplish what words had, thus far, not. “So I need two electronic key cards.”

      The clerk looked dumbfounded.

      Looking as if he had half-expected in a trip of this magnitude to encounter some kind of glitch, Joe stepped forward and intervened in fluent Mandarin Chinese. Immediately, the clerk began to relax. The two conversed pleasantly for several minutes. Finally, Joe turned to Hannah. “The adoption agency here booked a single room for every ‘family’ coming in to adopt. You requested separate accommodations for two adults so they gave us a room with two king beds.”

      That made sense. Sort of. “Can’t we get another room?” Hannah asked.

      Joe shook his head. “The hotel is fully booked for the rest of the summer. We could try another hotel, but they don’t hold out much hope—the nice accommodations are sold out.”

      She let her head fall back. After a four-hour drive to the El Paso International Airport, a two-hour preflight wait, twenty-six hours in the air to Taipei, and another three hours getting through customs and to the hotel, she was dead on her feet. Joe had napped off and on, but she had barely slept on the plane. She was too nervous and excited about her future.

      “One room is fine,” Joe said.

      The thought of sharing space lent an intimacy to the trip she had not expected. “But…” Hannah protested.

      Exhaustion tautened the lines of his face. “We’ll survive, Hannah. Besides, everyone adopting through the agency you’re using is on the fifth floor. You’re going to need to be there when they bring the babies up tomorrow afternoon.”

      Hannah knew that was true. She looked at Joe. This was not what he had signed on for, either. “I’m really sorry.”

      He picked up both suitcases and strode across the spectacular marble lobby to the elevators. “All I want is a shower and a place to lay my head. Anything else, at this point, is extraneous.”

      To Hannah’s relief, the accommodations were beautiful and luxurious. The room was spacious with a spectacular wall of glass windows overlooking the city. The beds were huge and made up with beautiful linens, goose down comforters and feather pillows. The suite also had a plasma TV, writing desk and chair and a high-speed Internet connection. The adjoining bathroom had twin sinks, marble shower and soaking tub.

      Joe, it would appear, could have cared less about the accommodations. He headed for the complimentary fruit basket on the desk. He grabbed an apple with one hand, set his laptop on the desk with the other. “I’ve got to check my e-mail so if you want the bath, it’s all yours.”

      She wanted a shower more than she could say. She dragged her suitcase into the bathroom, made good use of the free scented soaps and shampoo, then stood under the spray, letting the soothing warmth seep into her bones.

      Tired enough to fall asleep standing up, she got out, wrapped her wet hair in a towel and donned one of the thick white hotel robes. Staying up only long enough to brush her teeth and run a comb through her wet hair, she emerged and stumbled wearily into the closest bed. Her head hit the pillow and she closed her eyes.

      “THEY’RE NOT THAT LATE, HANNAH,” Joe chided at two the following afternoon, not sure when a night and half a day had passed with such excruciating slowness. Mainly because ever since they’d been closeted together, he’d had a hard time taking his eyes off his suite mate.

      Oblivious to the errant nature of his thoughts, Hannah consulted her watch and continued to pace. “The van from the orphanage was supposed to be here nearly half an hour ago.”

      And during that time she had paced back and forth in front of the windows so many times Joe had her spectacular legs—and the inherent sexiness of her feminine stride—memorized. He shifted his glance upward, past her perfectly shaped torso to the silky brown hair brushing her slender shoulders. Her arms were incredibly toned, too. “Maybe they got stuck in traffic.”

      “Then why haven’t they called to let us know?” she asked in a distressed voice.

      He shrugged and looked directly into her long-lashed brown eyes. “Could be any number of reasons,” he said, wishing she had chosen to wear anything but that alluring white dress. “I’m certain everything is fine,” he repeated, reminding himself this situation had no room for desire on either of their parts.

      “You’re right.” Hannah bit into her lower lip. Her delicate cheeks flushed with emotion. “I’m overreacting.” Exasperated, she propped her hands on her hips. “Not that this is your problem, in any case.”

      It sure wasn’t supposed to be, Joe reflected. And it wouldn’t be now if a last-minute family emergency hadn’t kept Hannah’s friend from Chicago, who had already adopted a little girl from Taiwan, from making the trip. But her friend had been forced to cancel, and the international adoption agency Hannah was using insisted all of the infants being adopted be escorted back to their new countries by two responsible adults. Which, Joe admitted, was not a bad idea given the sheer distance most of the international adoptees and their new parents were traveling.

      Hannah’s only family was Gus. Even if Gus had wanted to go, his health issues would have prevented such a long journey.

      So she had asked Joe if he would consider going with her. Hannah had assured him he would not have to do anything regarding her adoption of the infant. While she was getting acquainted with her child and taking care of all the adoption and immigration legalities, he could stay in the hotel room and work on the magazine articles tied to his latest book project as well as indulge in as much of the culture as he wanted.

      That had all sounded good to him. He had been in Summit, Texas, too long and he loved this part of Asia.

      Unfortunately, the reservation mix-up had hampered his ability to concentrate and left him acutely aware of many things. The rosewood and patchouli fragrance of Hannah’s soap and shampoo. The fact she carried a stick of lip balm and applied it, every hour or so. The knowledge that the treatment worked—her full lips were a healthy pink and seductively soft. Too soft, Joe chided himself sternly, for him to be thinking about when they were cooped up this way.

      The phone rang. Hannah jumped and rushed to pick it up. She listened intently, then smiled in relief. She thanked the caller, hung up and turned to him. “There was a problem with the conference room where we were all supposed to meet, so—” She paused as a knock sounded on the hotel room door. “Oh my God. Joe! She’s here!”

      Chapter Two

      Her heart in her throat, Hannah rushed toward the door and flung it open. On the other side of the portal, a Taiwanese nanny stood, with Hannah’s baby in her arms. For a second, Hannah was so overwhelmed with emotion, she could barely breathe. Her daughter was here—at long last.

      And the baby was so much smaller than Hannah had expected. Only about fourteen pounds, at ten months of age. She was also absolutely, incredibly beautiful. Dark almond-shaped eyes were framed by long thick lashes and nestled beneath thin expressive brows. Her nose was cute and pert, her bow-shaped lips unexpectedly solemn. Her round little face was fuller than it had been in the photo that had been sent months ago, her bone structure more delicately feminine, and her legs and arms were almost alarmingly limp and thin. Her golden skin was flushed pink and it was easy to see why—her child was way too warmly dressed for a summer day. But this, too, Hannah had learned was typical. The Taiwanese feared children becoming chilled and catching cold. Hence, infants here were always quite warmly dressed, no matter what the season.

      “This is Zhu Ming,” the nanny said, as the same scene was repeated