Barbara McCauley - Blackhawk Desires

“Mr. Carver told me not to—”

“Never mind what Jacob told you.” Softly scolding, Clair tilted her head. “I’m feeling fine now and you both need to stop worrying about me.”

Shaking her head in defeat, the receptionist slid her glasses off and picked up her purse. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes.”

“You’ll be back in one hour, not one minute before, or I’ll tell Albert in Shipping that you have a crush on him.”

“I most certainly do not!” Mary puffed up like an agitated hen, then lowered her brow with worry. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

“One hour,” Clair said firmly, then smiled at Kiera. “After you.”

The spacious inner office, a mix of contemporary and Western decor, was warm and welcoming. Native American–themed watercolors and bronze statues decorated the walls and shelves. A smooth granite fountain bubbled softly in one corner, and two ficus trees flanked the floor-to-ceiling glass window that overlooked the pool and courtyard.

“Please, sit.” Clair waved a hand toward one of the tan leather armchairs in front of a glass-topped cherry-wood desk. “Can I get you something to drink? Some coffee or water? I have some tea, if you like chamomile.”

Kiera took the chair closest to the door. “No, thank you.”

“I’m sorry I pulled you away from your shift.” Clair sat at her desk. “I know how busy the restaurant gets at lunch.”

If she’s going to lecture or fire me , Kiera thought, she certainly is being polite about it . “Not for another half hour.”

“Normally, I would have come down and introduced myself to you right away, but I’ve been a little under the weather for the past few days.”

She did look a little tired, Kiera thought, and her cheeks were slightly pale. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“I seem to be over the worst of it now.” Leaning back in her chair, Clair narrowed her eyes. “Have we met before?”

Kiera tensed, but managed to keep her tone calm. “Have you ever been to Rainville?”

“Rainville? I don’t think so.” Clair shook her head thoughtfully. “You look so … familiar, though I’m not sure why.”

“I probably just look like someone else.”

“Maybe.” There was still doubt in Clair’s voice, but she shrugged it off. “Anyway, I don’t want to keep you, so I should get to the point. I received a phone call regarding you this morning.”

Oh, God, she does know, Kiera thought. But with her throat closing up on her, she couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried.

“Apparently,” Clair said, “you’ve impressed my sister-in-law.”

“Your sister-in-law?”

“One of them.” Clair smiled. “Grace is married to Rand. She comes here for lunch quite often. You’ve waited on her a couple of times this past week. She couldn’t stop talking about how terrific you are. I decided I wanted to meet you myself.”

That’s why Clair had called her here? Because her sister-in-law had said something nice about her? Kiera felt a bubble of hysterical laughter threaten to rise, but she quickly swallowed it back down. “I—I appreciate that. But really, I’m just doing my job.”

“According to Grace, you were doing much more than your—”

Clair stopped suddenly, raised a hand to her temple and closed her eyes.

“Mrs. Carver?” Kiera leaned forward. “Are you all right?”

“I—I thought I was,” she said breathlessly. “But maybe not.”

Kiera stood. “I’ll get your receptionist.”

“No!” Clair opened her eyes and held up her hand. “No, please.”

“I really should—”

“Just give me a minute.” Clair laid her head back. “It’s nothing, just a little wave of nausea. I’ll be fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Her own nervousness forgotten, Kiera spotted a pitcher of water sitting on a console, hurried over and filled a glass, then quickly moved to Clair’s side. “In fact, you’re quickly approaching the color of your jacket, which I love, by the way. Vera Wang?”

Clair smiled weakly and nodded. “I did a little shopping on my honeymoon.”

“Just sip.” Kiera held out the glass, studied Clair’s face for a moment, then, without thinking, asked, “How far along are you?”

“Far along?” Clair stared blankly at her. “What do you mean?”

Darn it! Why did she have to always speak before she thought? One more thing Trey was right about.

“Nothing. Here, just sip on this.”

“You thought I was pregnant?”

Afraid to answer, Kiera shifted uneasily.

“I’m not pregnant.” Clair laughed and shook her head. “I just had a little bug last week and I can’t seem to shake it. My nephews had it, too.”

Mentally kicking herself, Kiera forced a smile and started to back away. “It probably is just a bug. There’s always something going around.” Like foot-in-mouth-disease . “I appreciate you inviting me up here, but I should probably get back to work now.”

“Wait.” Clair reached out and grabbed Kiera’s arm. “Why—what made you think that?”

“I was way out of line,” Kiera said, wishing she could be anywhere but here at this moment. “Of course you’d know if you were pregnant. Just forget I said anything.”

Clair’s hand tightened on Kiera’s arm. “I’m not upset or offended. Really, I’m not. Please, just tell me what made you think that?”

Since it was too late to take the words back or escape, Kiera simply sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

“Well,” Kiera said hesitantly, “I’ve been around a lot of pregnant women. The last restaurant I worked in, three of the servers there were expecting at the same time. They all had that same pale-green tint in their face as you do, the same unexpected wave of nausea that would come and go. I guess I just got pretty good at recognizing ‘the look.’”

“And I—” Clair bit her lip “—I have that look?”

Kiera slowly nodded.

“Oh, my God.” Clair sank back into her chair. Wide-eyed, she stared blankly out the window. “It’s possible. There was that one time …”

Clair’s gaze flashed back to Kiera. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone. I want to be sure, and if I am I have to tell Jacob first.”

Kiera nodded, couldn’t help but note the irony of the situation. “Of course.”

“Oh, no—” the green tint in Clair’s face deepened “—here it comes again.” She slapped her fingers to her mouth and jumped up. “I’ll be right back, don’t leave. Please don’t leave.”

Clair didn’t wait for an answer, just hurried to a door at the back of her office and ran through it.

Kiera rolled her head back and groaned softly. The last thing she’d wanted to do was call attention to herself, but, between doing her job well and having a loose tongue, she’d practically screamed to be noticed.

With a heavy sigh, she started to turn and sit back down, but a grouping of silver framed photographs on Clair’s shelves caught her attention.

Family photos .

Almost afraid to look, but knowing she had to, Kiera moved closer. There were several pictures, but one of them practically leaped off the shelf at her. Her pulse quickened as she picked up the photo and stared at it. Clair sat on the top rail of a corral fence; two men stood on either side. One of the men Kiera recognized—Rand Blackhawk. They were all smiling, not a posed smile, but one of those shots where someone with a camera sneaks up and captures the essence of the moment on film.

Kiera’s fingers tightened on the frame. All three shared the same golden, bronzed skin, the same high cheekbones. The same thick, dark hair.

So familiar. So incredibly familiar.