Sugar Baby

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

“You planned to steal my son!”

Before Mack could respond, Claire continued. “Don’t deny that the purpose of your lawyer’s visit was to get me to agree to have Danny’s name changed to McMollere. The man rattled on and on about the wonderful heritage Danny has here at Sugarland, about how as Carter’s son, it’s rightfully his. All I have to do is sign on the dotted line and presto! Danny’s a McMollere and everything’s just peachy keen.”

Mack was shaking his head long before she finished. But she paid no attention to him.

“I’ll be out of here just as soon as possible. And I’ll be taking my son with me. My son, Daniel Woodson.”

Mack took a deep breath, obviously coming to a decision. “The problem with Danny’s name was going to resolve itself,” he said. “At least, that’s what I was hoping.”

“How?”

“I was thinking that you’d change Danny’s name to McMollere—if that was your name, too.”

Claire’s heart was suddenly in her throat

“I’m talking…marriage, Claire.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

RITA Award winner Karen Young needs no introduction to Superromance readers. This talented author has published eleven books for the line. Sugar Baby is set in Louisiana, where, until very recently, Karen and her husband lived. The couple has now moved to Jackson, Mississippi, which means Karen—a native Mississippian—has come home. An added bonus is that they’re close to their daughter and her family, including three grandchildren.

Be sure to watch for upcoming tides by Karen Young. This Christmas she appears in Harlequin’s Christmas anthology (Merry Christmas, Baby!) with a short story entitled “It Takes a Miracle.” Then, early in 1998, her first mainstream novel will be published under the MIRA imprint

Sugar Baby

Karen Young

To the Ladies of the Club—the Thilbodaux Literary Guild.

Thanks for the memories.

CHAPTER ONE

“POLICE…FREEZE! FREEZE!”

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!

“Officer down! We need backup!”

Rat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat-a-tat!

With her face buried in a hand towel, Claire Woodson froze. Oh, great! Just what she needed. Danny was channel surfing with the remote again. Thanks to the hotel’s free premium channels, she could just imagine what he was watching. Muttering a word she never got to say out loud, she balled up the towel and tossed it in the sink, then with blood in her eye, she marched out of the bathroom.

Her five-year-old son sat cross-legged in front of the TV, his nose no more than a foot from the screen. “Oh, boy, shoot ’im, shoot ’im.”

“Danny! What are you watching?”

His eyes were glued to a scene in which a man lay covered in blood, his body in a grotesque sprawl. “This guy just killed a policeman, Mommy. Bullets were everywhere! It was neat!”

Claire marched over and took the remote. “It isn’t neat to kill policemen, Danny.”

“But he was really bad!”

“That was make-believe. In real life, policemen are here to help us.” She began flicking through the channels. “You know you’re not supposed to watch adult channels. Look, here’s something good.” She stopped at a cartoon.

Danny crossed his small arms and poked out his bottom lip. “I don’t wanna watch dumb ol’ cartoons. Why won’t you let me see anything I like? Ryan gets to watch whatever he wants on TV.”

“Too bad. I don’t happen to agree with Ryan’s parents.”

“I wanna go home! I don’t like it here.” Scrambling up from the floor, he stomped across the room to the French doors.

Join the club.

With a sigh, she let him go out. Their room had a balcony overlooking a courtyard. He could hardly get into mischief from the third floor.

She sank onto the bed and willed away the start of a headache. She was here in LaRue and she would make the best of it. Hadn’t she been making the best of things for about six years? This situation wouldn’t be any different.

Rubbing her temple, she gazed around the room. At any other time, she might have enjoyed the place John McMollere had recommended.

Complete with slowly revolving ceiling fans and patrons in rumpled suits and Panama hats, the White Hotel was like something out of a Hemingway novel. Built in the days of Louisiana’s rice and sugarcane barons, it was garishly grandiose. But just as those were bygone days, the hotel was past its heyday.

Not that any of this mattered. Claire was in no mood to appreciate decor. Her thoughts were on the upcoming meeting with her son’s grandparents, the McMolleres. Because of their power and arrogance, they’d won this round, but she was determined they weren’t going to win the war.

They were not going to take Danny away from her.

She glanced at her watch. Three hours before she and Danny had to meet them. Just the thought sent up a flock of butterflies. She touched her stomach, and her troubled gaze strayed to the balcony and Danny. He was usually a happy, good-natured boy, but lately he was picking up on her anxiety. Somehow she was going to have to keep from communicating her distress to him. Closing her eyes, she vowed to do better at keeping her fears to herself.

The telephone rang.

She stared at it, knowing the caller had to be one of the enemy. If not the lawyer, then old Angus McMollere, himself. If not him, then John McMollere, the older son—the one everybody called Mack. He was the one she most hated dealing with. Not that she’d seen him during the negotiations for this visit. They’d communicated only by telephone. Knowing that she was being silly—even childish and cowardly—she allowed the telephone to ring four times before she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Claire Woodson?”

The voice was dark and deep and confident. Not cold, but not friendly either. She recognized it instantly and sighed. John McMollere. Strangely enough, a picture of him flashed vividly in her mind even though she’d only seen him once. Six years ago in Houston on a night that had changed her life forever.

“Claire?” he repeated.

“This is she.”

“John McMollere here.”

“Yes.”

“I expected to hear from you earlier.”

“The appointment is for seven. Has that changed?”

“No. Nothing’s changed. But a woman and a child traveling alone, I thought—”

“Danny and I are used to traveling alone, Mr. McMollere.”

“Mack.”

She murmured something. She wasn’t ready for a chummy relationship with any of them.

He waited a beat. “Satisfied with our hotel?”

“It’s…interesting.”

“How’s Danny?”

Her gaze went to Danny who was leaning over the balcony railing obviously interested in something going on below. “He’s fine. Bored with no one to play with, but he’ll be okay.”

“He’ll like it here at Sugarland. No little kids, of course, but it’s a big place. He can explore to his heart’s delight. His grandparents can’t wait to see him.”

Two days. Only two days and we can go home.

She clutched the receiver. “I need directions to get there.”

“No need. I’ll pick you up.”

“No! I mean…ah, that’s not necessary. I’m—”

“I know it’s not necessary, Claire,” he said patiently. “But you’ve been on the road most of the day. It’s another twenty miles out here with twists and turns you might miss.”

“I can follow directions.”

“I know this whole thing is stressful for you. It’s not exactly easy for us on this end, either.”

“What does that have to do with whether or not I drive myself to Sugarland?” she asked. Even to herself she sounded negative and testy. She heard him draw in a deep breath.

“I think we should all try to make this visit a happy one, Claire. For Danny’s sake.”

She gripped the receiver even tighter. “Where was all this concern for Danny when you people first learned of his existence, Mr. McMollere?” she asked. “Forgive me for being blunt, but I’m here only because a judge ordered it. And we both know he ordered it because of the prestige of the McMolleres. You’ve got what you wanted—a weekend to meet my son. And contrary to what you might think, I will do everything I can to see that nothing upsets Danny. As his parent—his only parent—how could I do otherwise?” Touching her head, she wished for a pill to take away the headache and the weekend. “Maybe that’s the one thing you, your parents and I can agree on,” she ended in a weary tone.

“Then there’s no problem.”

“Fine.” The man sounded as though he agreed with everything she’d said, which was impossible. “Good. So how about those directions?”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“The directions, please.”

There was a moment when she thought he’d argue, but he made a sound—surely not a chuckle?—then began to rattle off a string of instructions which would get her to Sugarland.

Birthplace of Danny’s father.

“Thank you.” she said stiffly.

“See you at seven.”

Quietly she replaced the receiver. Above her, the ceiling fan sliced slowly through the humid air. After a minute, she looked up and sighed.

Are you satisfied, Carter?

SHE’D MET Carter McMollere when she was a student at Louisiana State University after her mother died. It was her second attempt to obtain her degree. An only child of divorced parents, she never knew her father except through her mother’s bitter memories. Shy, imaginative and intelligent, she had studied liberal arts at LSU that first time around, but left before earning her degree to care for her mother who’d become ill. When her mother died, Claire reenrolled and like a bird out of a cage, she wanted to try everything she’d missed.

She’d missed love. Loving. Sharing the singular joy of passion with a special man. She’d fallen eagerly into Carter’s hands. He’d made her feel special for the first time in her life. When she was with him, the long years devoted to caring for her mother seemed part of another lifetime, one she was only too happy to forget. Carter had painted a glowing picture of their future together, and she had happily pictured a life as his wife. He’d been vague about his background. She never knew Sugarland by name. She’d learned later it was one of the few sizable sugarcane operations remaining in southern Louisiana. In her naiveté, Claire had believed every promise Carter made. She’d been heartbroken to learn that he was a married man, and had broken off with him that same night.

It was even worse when she discovered that she was pregnant. Believing Carter had a right to know, she’d phoned to tell him. He’d immediately urged her to get an abortion. Painful as it had been to discover that her lover had a wife, to hear him coolly suggest that she destroy their baby was devastating. Everything in her rejected the idea. She had wept an ocean of tears before finally deciding that Carter wasn’t worth such heartfelt despair. He might casually dismiss the tiny life growing inside her, but she never could. From that moment, the baby was all that mattered. Her baby.

The bond that was forged then with her unborn son had sustained her through all the misery and fear of the months that followed. She’d lost her job as a teacher in a small parochial school when her condition became obvious. She’d been forced to leave her friends and relocate to Houston. Her pregnancy had been a difficult one and she’d gone through it alone. But good can come from bad things and Daniel was a constant source of joy to her. And now, with Carter dead, the McMolleres wanted their only grandson.

They weren’t going to take her son away from her.

“Mommy, Mommy! Come quick.” Danny dashed in from the balcony and grabbed her hand. He began tugging her toward the French doors. “That policeman just killed somebody! Come and see!”

“Danny, don’t be ridiculous!” With only a glance at him, she pulled away and headed for her luggage. That’s what happened when kids were allowed to watch unlimited violence on TV. Their imaginations went wild.

“Mommy, please, this is not radickalous.” He stood before her looking distressed. “Those men were fighting! Honest, they were.”

“What men?” She bent to unzip her cosmetics bag.

“Those men outside,” Danny repeated impatiently. “The policeman had a gun. He shot somebody. I saw it.” He was nodding his head furiously, his eyes round as marbles. “I did, Mommy.”

“Policemen don’t shoot people in a hotel courtyard, Danny.” She found shampoo and body gel and tossed them on the bed. Maybe a cool shower would banish her headache and refresh her. Even though she was meeting the McMolleres under duress, she didn’t want to look frazzled.

Danny caught her hand and tugged on it. “Mommy, please come and look. That man fell on the ground, honest. I bet he’s hurt really bad. I bet he’s bleeding!”

“Not now, Danny. Please.” She drew her hand away, thinking her first task when she got home would be a phone call to Ryan’s parents. Somehow, they would have to keep the children away from the violent TV programs.

“You gotta look, Mommy. What if he comes up here and shoots us, too?”

She chuckled in spite of herself. “Come on, honey. Nobody’s going to shoot anybody.”

“But he did!” Danny insisted in exasperation.

She ruffled his dark hair. “And you saw it?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Danny, we’re on the third floor.”

“But I could see ‘em good from where I was standin’. The one who got shot had a T-shirt like mine—you know—my Olympics T-shirt. And he had a ponytail.”

“A ponytail?” Claire repeated.

“Yes, like Jason,” Danny replied, referring to the college student who serviced the pool at their condo.

Claire hesitated. Danny seemed so certain. “And where were these people?”

“Way over by the bushes.” He pointed as if she could see from inside the room. “I had to lean real far out.”

She frowned at him. “Not on the balcony railing, I hope.”

“It’s okay, Mommy,” he said confidently. “It has these places you can put your feet. Don’t worry, I was careful.”

Claire marched over to the balcony to see for herself. Her heart dropped. The ornate wrought-iron did indeed have places a small foot could wedge into. Standing there, Danny was raised beyond a safe level. He could have plunged three floors!

She turned and pulled him into her arms. “Danny, you mustn’t ever do such a thing again! The railing is old. It isn’t meant to be climbed on. What if you’d fallen?”

He looked crestfallen. “I wasn’t gonna fall, Mommy,” he muttered. “I was just lookin’ at those men. They were actin’ really bad, just like on TV. They were hollerin’ and all!”

She shook her head helplessly. Obviously she was not going to convince Danny that he’d been imagining things. “You think you saw a policeman shoot somebody?”

He nodded with new life. “I did! Honest!” He caught her hand again and began tugging her along. “Right over there on the path.”

Claire let him lead her to the balcony. She could see a large rubber plant flourishing in the lee between the main wing of the hotel and the covered walkway leading to the pool. It was almost directly beneath their room. To one side was a space obviously designated for housekeeping. The lush vegetation probably obscured the flagstone pathway from ground level, but the view was good from this spot three floors above.

There was nothing there.

“I don’t see anything, honey.”

Beside her, Danny put his foot into the wrought-iron toeholds, ready to climb. “Danny!” She grabbed him and set him firmly back on the floor. “What did I just say?”

“I was gonna show you where.”

“There’s nothing there, Danny. Even if the men were standing where you say they were, I don’t think a gunshot would go unnoticed.”

“Maybe nobody heard it but me.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “How could that be, honey? Guns make a big noise when they’re fired.”

He stared at his feet. “You think I made it up.”

“Well…” With a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his small face up.

“I betcha Ryan would believe me if I told him.”

She sighed. “I believe you think you saw something.” She paused a minute. “What made you say he was a policeman? Was he in uniform?”

“No, but I saw a badge. On his belt. We had some policemen visit us at school and they said not all cops have a uniform, but all cops have a badge.”

To humor him, she asked, “Where did the gun come from if he wasn’t in uniform?”

His face screwed up in thought. “I don’t know. I just saw it when he held it in his hand.”

“What did the other man do?”

“He just fell over.”

“And then what?”

“I don’t know. That’s when I ran inside to tell you.”

She studied him intently for a minute. “Okay, champ. Here’s what we’ll do. I’m going to call the desk and ask about this. If something like that actually happened, they would know about it. Okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.” He drew a big breath and went over to the bedside table, planting himself firmly by the phone. Claire sighed again. No getting around it, she was going to have to call.

Two minutes later she hung up feeling chastened. Her questions had been greeted with patient good humor by the desk clerk. A shooting? At the White Hotel? Ha-ha. By LaRue’s finest? No, ma’am, hardly. Somebody was surely having a joke at her expense, she was told. This was just lovely, she decided, kicking off her shoes. For the rest of her stay at the precious White, she would be known as that paranoid woman in three-twelve. Grumbling, she headed into the bathroom. That shower seemed more appealing with each passing minute.

“WHAT CAN WE DO NOW, Mommy?” Danny asked the instant she reappeared. She was somewhat refreshed, but even a cool shower didn’t wash away the Louisiana humidity. Nor did it do much for her headache.

“We can both get dressed, Danny,” she told him, glancing at the clock. “We’ve got to be ready to leave in a little while.”

“If I hurry, can we go down to the place where I saw the guy fall and see if there’s blood?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, absolutely not.”

“Aw, Mommy…”

“Tell you what,” she said. “We have about two hours before it’s time to meet those people for our visit. I saw a Star-Mart as we drove into town. Want to pop in and check out their toy department?” It was blatant bribery, but she would resume being a principled parent later.

LaRue was a small town, but Star-Mart looked as large as any in Houston. Claire cruised the parking lot twice before settling for a space the length of a football field from the entrance. “The exercise is good for me,” she muttered, grabbing Danny’s suspenders before he could dash too far ahead of her. For a second, her irritation faded. With his red suspenders, he looked so cute in khaki shorts and navy polo shirt.

“I need a Power Rangers gun, Mommy!”

“So you can shoot somebody? Not today, buddyboy.”

“Awww.”

At the entrance, they followed behind a young mother with an infant and a little boy who looked about Danny’s age. Danny and the boy sized each other up solemnly. Over their heads, both Claire and the mother smiled.

Inside, Danny scoped out the store with practiced skill, then headed like a homing pigeon for the toys. Behind her, the young mother fastened her infant into the shopping cart while her son darted away in the same direction as Danny. His mother gave an exasperated sound, then laughed as she and Claire again made eye contact.

“We’re headed for toys,” Claire said with a shrug.

“It looks like we are, too,” the woman said, still smiling.

The store was busy. Although school wasn’t scheduled to begin for almost a month, supplies were already fully stocked and kids in LaRue were shopping with the same enthusiasm as those in Houston.

As usual when Danny was faced with an excess of choices, he couldn’t make a decision. He picked up and rejected no less than a dozen items when Claire finally lost patience. With her head throbbing, she glanced at her watch.

“We have to get on the road if we’re going to be on time for our visit to Sugarland. Five minutes,” she told him, ignoring his injured expression. “And then we’re out of here. I mean it, Danny.”

The other boy ran up to Danny. “There’s some neat stuff on the next aisle. I found this!” He held up a weapon that might very well be used by real power rangers in the next century. Danny sent her a pleading look and she nodded. “Go take a look, but don’t wander beyond the next aisle. I’m going to pick out an electronic game. They’re on sale.”

“Okay!”

The games were good for a five-year-old confined in a car for a long, boring trip. Unfortunately, it appeared that every other parent in LaRue had had the same idea. The sale table was a jumble of plastic cases. She started looking, thumbing through the leftovers, aware only vaguely of the kids and parents sifting through the merchandise along with her. A couple of minutes later, the young mother appeared with disposable diapers and a few other articles in her cart.

“Have you seen Jeremy?” she asked anxiously.

“Your little boy?” Claire glanced at the intersection and a display of no less than a hundred Mickey Mouse lunch boxes. “He was just here with Danny.” She walked a few steps and looked into the next aisle. Both boys were gone.

A child screamed suddenly. Her heart plunged to her feet at the sound.

Danny!

And like any mother, her first thought was for her child. For a second, she was frozen as the piercing, shrill shrieks ricocheted through the huge store.

It was Danny!

All the blood drained from her body, leaving her sucked empty of everything except a desperate need to find him. Galvanized by fear, Claire darted frantically into the next aisle. Then the next, pulled along by the sound of his shrieks as surely as if she were connected to him by electric wire.

And then his screams ceased and there was only the murmurings of the crowd, the isolated whimpering of a baby. But no Danny.

He wasn’t anywhere she looked. Suddenly she was in Shoes. People were murmuring, looking concerned, checking for their own young ones. Still no sign of Danny. Somewhere nearby, she heard the young mother calling for Jeremy.

“Danny!” she cried desperately. “Where are you?”

Utterly panicked now, she dashed across the main traffic lane into Electronics and there he was.