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.
Beyond William Blackhawk’s obituary, Kiera hadn’t been able to find out anything about the Blackhawk family. It wasn’t as if it was a subject that came up with the few people she’d had contact with in this town. If she started asking questions, there was no doubt in her mind she’d draw unwanted attention. Of course, she’d already done that in spades.
“Hi.”
Kiera whirled at the sound of Sam’s deep voice close behind her. The photo slipped from her hands as she turned, and she could do nothing to stop its descent. She watched the frame bounce off the plush carpeting, then fall open, spilling the glass, the back cover and the photo onto the floor.
Horrified, Kiera dropped to her knees.
“Sorry.” Sam knelt beside her, reached for the frame as she reached for the photo. “I guess you didn’t hear me knock. I thought Clair was in here.”
“She is—she was—she’ll be back shortly.” Carefully, she lifted the overturned photo, stared at the names handwritten on the back: Rand, Lizzie, Seth, at the Double B.
“Lizzie?”
She hadn’t meant to speak out loud, but the name slipped out.
“Clair’s birth name is Elizabeth Blackhawk.” Sam slid the glass back into the frame. “Her parents died when she was little and she was adopted by a family in South Carolina.”
Her parents died when she was little … Kiera let the words sink in. “Clair was adopted?”
“It’s a little complicated.” Sam took the picture from her, dropped the picture and backing into the frame and held it up. “There we go. No damage done.”
No damage done? If only that were true. She couldn’t seem to stop the sudden, uncontrollable shaking. She had another piece of the puzzle now, but the picture still made no sense.
“Hey.” Frowning, Sam set the frame back on the shelf and took hold of her arms. “It’s all right.”
It wasn’t all right,
