by Joyce Lamb
When Sam was alone with the cake again, she laughed and shook her head in amazement. The ice inside Elise Trudeau was finally melting.
She finished up the frosting, then picked up the single blue candle on the counter and placed it in the center of the cake. She fumbled with the matches, swearing under her breath when the first couple of attempts to strike one failed to produce flame.
The door behind her swung open again, letting the laughter of her family into the kitchen. Mac slipped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “How’s it going, Mrs. Hunter?”
She leaned her head against the side of his and savored the scent of chocolate on his breath. “Almost there, Mr. Hunter.”
“That looks like a really good birthday cake for a kid who’s turning only a year old.”
When he swiped a fingertip through some of the frosting near the base, she lightly slapped his hand. “Stop it.”
Chuckling, he kissed the side of her neck. “I love you, you know.”
She grinned sideways at him. “Love you, too.” She struck a match, and this time the flame burst into life. “Finally.”
Before she could touch flame to wick, though, Mac blew it out.
“Hey! What the—”
He turned her to face him and kissed her, the caress of his lips and the slide of his tongue along her bottom lip making her forget where they were and what she’d been doing.
He drew back too soon, and when she chased his mouth with hers, wanting more, wanting him, he slid a thick envelope into her hand, gave her one last, quick kiss, then stepped back and graced her with an expectant smile, dimples winking at her.
She glanced down at the long white envelope, and her heart kicked when she recognized the return address. Florida Department of Children and Families.
“It arrived in the mail this morning,” he said. “The adoption is official. Reed is my son. I mean, he has been all along, but now he’s legally mine.” His hazel eyes glimmered with the same kind of helpless wonder that had been there the day she’d labored to bring Reed into the world. “I’m officially his father.”
Sam threw her arms around his neck, laughing and crying at the same time. They held each other close for a long moment, kissing and nuzzling and looking forward to the future.
Sam extricated herself from his arms only when the embrace began to veer into territory that was inappropriate when guests waited for cake in the next room.
“Later,” Sam promised, with one last, lingering kiss.
He grinned and swatted her on the rear as she turned back to the matches.
With the single candle lit, she picked up the cake and Mac pushed open the door into the dining room for her, where the entire Trudeau family, along with AnnaCoreen and her new husband, Richie Woods, sat around the table, happily chattering.
Charlie and Noah took turns describing the hotel in Jamaica, where they’d spent their honeymoon. They’d gotten married two weeks ago in their backyard, surrounded by a blooming garden that would have made the sisters’ grandmother proud.
Alex and Logan took notes, planning for their own honeymoon after their knot-tying ceremony scheduled for six months from now. Alex reached out and grabbed Charlie’s hand as they talked, and the lack of hesitation in the gesture pleased Sam. It had taken months of work and training, but her kid sister finally had a handle on her empathy. She and Charlie both could block their abilities at will, no drugs required.
Sam’s parents sat at one end of the long table. The senior Reed, in full-on grandpa mode, bounced his namesake on his knee, teasing the rapt boy with the I’ve-got-your-nose game, while Elise watched, quiet but amused, reserved once again.
Charlie started singing “Happy Birthday” as Sam set the cake in front of Little Reed, and everyone chimed in. Sam helped the boy blow out the single candle, then Charlie set about cutting the cake.
Alex got up and tugged Sam into the kitchen by the hand. “I’ve been dying to ask you something. Charlie told me the boss of that rat bastard Flinn Ford called you this week, trying to get you to go back to the FBI. Is that something you think you might do?”
“Nope. I’m here, I’m committed, and you can’t get rid of me.”
Alex grinned. “And that’s cool with you? I mean, you’re not having any twinges about missing the spy life?”
“Not one twinge.” Being Mac’s wife and Reed’s mother provided all the excitement she could ever desire. Once Reed started preschool, she planned her own educational foray, into the culinary arts.
She had confidence that her former N3 colleagues could handle the rogue satellite networks, especially with Andrea Leigh and Sloan Decker involved. She could also rest assured that Zoe Harris’ sister would soon know at least some details about what had happened to Zoe: Sloan had promised that he would inform the woman, in person.
Alex gave Sam a quick hug. “I know I’ve said it before, but thank you for giving me my life back. I don’t know what I would have done without my big sister showing me the way.”
“You’re doing the meditation every day?”
“Never miss a minute. I’ve gotten to where I can reach for that calm place inside me automatically before I touch someone or they touch me. The intense focus doesn’t work a hundred percent of the time, but I’m getting better at it the longer I do it.”
Choking up, Sam hugged her sister again. Maybe that’s what all those years with N3 had been about—giving her the resources to help Alex learn to control the more violent aspects of her ability.
Flinn Ford—may he rest in prison for the remaining years of his life—had blackmailed her and used her and manipulated her. But his maniacal greed had also given her and Mac a son. She would never know who Reed’s biological father was, but she knew as well as anyone that biology meant nothing when it came to being a good father. And Mac had that role down as if he’d prepared for it his whole life.
As if her thoughts summoned him, Mac stuck his head in the kitchen door and said, “Hey, think you might want to see this.”
Sam took his extended hand and let him draw her back into the dining room. The first thing she noticed was Charlie swiping away a tear. Heart in her throat, Sam looked in the direction Charlie was gazing, and froze.
Prim and proper Elise Trudeau sat with Little Reed on her lap, offering him a fingerful of frosting. His tiny hand grasped her finger, lifted it to his mouth and shoved it in. His blue eyes widened at the sweet taste, and he grinned around her finger, all gums and happy drool. In the next instant, he reached for his grandmother’s plate of cake on the table and plunged both hands right into it.
Sam started forward to rescue her mother from the impending mess, but Mac held her back. “Wait a sec.”
Frosting landed with a silent plop on Elise’s linen pant leg. Reed leaned forward and smeared it around, releasing one of those high-pitched baby laughs that makes everything wrong in the world fall away.
Sam held her breath, noticing she wasn’t alone. Her two sisters watched the scene with growing apprehension. Any second now, Elise Trudeau, the woman who never left the house with a hair out of place or a wrinkle in her impeccable clothing, would have a fit that the baby had just ruined her expensive slacks.
When Elise lifted the baby under the arms, Sam reached out to take him, but instead of handing him over, Elise folded him into her arms and hugged him to her with a delighted laugh. “He’s just the dearest little thing.”
Sam exchanged a disbelieving look with her sisters. Their uptight mother was laughing about sticky baby fingers smearing frosting into her fancy clothing.
Charlie shrugged and relaxed against Noah’s side with a wide smile.
Alex looped her arm through Logan’s and giggled like a little kid.
Sam looked at Mac to find him grinning at her, a flat-broke guy who’d just won the emotional lottery. She smiled back with tears in her eyes.
This was her family.
Wrapping his arms around her, Mac whispered in her ear,
“Welcome home.”
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Berkley Sensation Titles by Joyce Lamb
COLD MIDNIGHT
TRUE VISION
TRUE COLORS
TRUE SHOT
