“Hey, sweetie. Is someone hungry and wet? Come here, precious one.”
Kara quickly changed her baby daughter, who contented herself for a short time by sucking on her little fist. With Kara’s dark hair and Reece’s blue eyes, she seemed a perfect blend of the two of them.
She was almost eight weeks old and had been born at home in the bed where she’d been conceived. It had been Kara’s idea to have a homebirth with her family around her. She loved the old Victorian house she and Reece had bought and restored and hadn’t been able to stand the thought of going through labor in a hospital again. It was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.
Her labor had been so much easier and faster this time, with the pain overwhelming her only toward the very end. But then her mother and Reece had been there to help her through it, together with the midwife and Reece’s sister Melanie, who’d become a good friend. Holly, Tessa, and Sophie, whose job it had been to entertain Connor during Kara’s active labor, returned at the last minute, just in time to watch the actual birth.
Reece, whose love had sustained her through the last excruciating hour, had been the one to catch Caitlyn. With the guidance of the midwife, he’d eased their daughter from Kara’s body. Then he’d looked up at Kara through eyes filled with tears, a look of amazement on his face. “It’s a girl!”
Kara would never forget that moment for as long as she lived—even if in the next instant she overheard Holly tell Tessa and Sophie, “If I ever have a baby, I’m going to have a Brazilian wax first. Keep it pretty, you know?”
“Honey, when you’ve got an eight-pound object coming out of your cooter, the last thing you’re going to care about is how it looks,” had been Tessa’s reply.
Kara smiled at the memory, picked her daughter up off the changing table, and tried to soothe her fussing. “Hold on just a minute, sweet pea. I know you’re hungry.”
She followed the sound of a child’s laughter out to the backyard, where Connor was still trying to teach Jake—the black lab pup Reece had brought home from the pound one afternoon—to pull his red wagon like a sled dog. She sat in the porch swing, nursed her baby, and watched her big boy play in the late afternoon August sunshine.
He was five now, almost six, and he’d be starting kindergarten in a few weeks. Reece had already taught him how to read at first-grade level and do basic addition, and Kara cherished the bond that had formed between them.
“Watch, Mommy! Watch what Jakey can do!” Connor had attached Jake’s leash to the handle of the wagon, and when he walked forward, the pup—now more of a dog, really—did, indeed, pull the wagon.
“That’s great, Connor. He likes to play with you.”
But the moment Connor hopped in the wagon, hoping for a ride, Jake hopped in the wagon, too.
She laughed with her son, looked at the new baby at her breast, and wondered that her life should be so sweet, so rich, so . . . happy. She allowed herself to relish the moment, the scent of her rose garden, the warmth of the breeze, the tiny baby sounds Caitlyn made as she nursed.
When Caitlyn was full, Kara carried her back inside and placed her in her infant seat on the kitchen table, then popped some chicken in the microwave to defrost.
The garage door opened.
Reece was home early.
He walked through the door, a smile on his handsome face, briefcase in hand, suit jacket slung over his shoulder. The sight of him never failed to make her heart beat faster. He walked over to her, kissed her, and then went to kiss the baby. “How was your day?”
“Quiet. Connor spent most of the afternoon outside. Caitlyn just woke up from a good two-hour nap.”
“Get lots of writing done?” He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, set his briefcase down, and opened it.
“Some. How were things at the Capitol?”
“Had a little run-in with Devlin. He wants to sponsor a bill to forbid anyone from taping a conversation without the knowledge and expressed consent of everyone being taped.”
Kara laughed. “I bet he does.”
“It won’t pass.” When Reece looked up at her again, there was an amused glint in his eyes. “I saw your mother enjoying a romantic lunch with Tom.”
Tom had been wooing her mother since the day they’d met in the hospital. Kara had been proud of how her mother had constantly turned him down, upbraided him for his bad manners, and generally told him to shove off. She refused to believe her mother could have given in. “What makes you think it was romantic?”
“Perhaps the fact that they had their tongues in one another’s mouths?”
“Oh, I think I’m going to be sick!”
Reece chuckled. “One other thing came up today.”
“What? Now they want you to run for governor?”
“Nothing like that. Just this.” He turned to his briefcase, pulled out a white envelope, and handed it to her, his gaze soft.
Kara stared at it for a moment, realized what it was, and looked up at Reece in amazement.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
Pulse racing, she ripped open the envelope, pulled out a thick document, unfolded it, and read. “Oh, my God! It’s done! It’s really done!”
He pulled her against him, kissed her forehead, and they held each other for a moment. “Prentice’s parental rights are forever terminated. He’s out of your life for good, sweetheart. Should we tell Connor?”
“Oh, yes!” Kara hurried to the back door, her heart dancing. “Connor, come inside! We have something special to tell you.”
Connor bounded indoors, followed by a panting, wagging Jake.
Reece sat at the table, lifted Connor onto his lap, and took the precious document from Kara.
Almost unable to contain her emotions, Kara pressed her hands to her face and watched.
“Do you know what this is?” Reece asked.
Connor shook his head.
“It’s our final adoption papers. These papers say that by law I am your real father now—and you’re my son.” At those last words, Reece’s voice broke.
Connor’s face split into a wide grin, and he threw his arms around Reece’s neck. “I have a daddy! I have a real daddy!”
Kara watched through eyes blurred by tears as Reece hugged his son—their son—and saw on her husband’s face how much Connor’s love and affection meant to him. Then Reece’s gaze met hers and he mouthed the words, “I love you.”
And in that moment, which would stay with Kara for the rest of her life, the world was perfect.
Pamela Clare began her writing career as an investigative reporter and columnist, working her way up the newsroom ladder to become the first woman editor of two different newspapers. Along the way, she and her team won numerous state and national journalism awards, including the 2000 National Journalism Award for Public Service. A single mother with two teenage sons, she lives in Colorado at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. Visit her website at www.pamelaclare.com.
Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
EPILOGUE
Pamela Clare, Extreme Exposure
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