Sugar Baby. Karen Young
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Table of Contents
“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.
“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