Black Market Baby by Tabra Jordan Page A

firm.
What more do you want?”
    Jillian
widened her eyes. “None of my siblings suffer with these wild dreams. Why me?”
    “I
don’t know.” Lake removed his blazer from a hanger and slipped his arm inside. “You
have to admit, your sister is a certifiable nut. Sometimes mental illness is
like that.”
    “Celeste
is just spoiled rotten. She’s daddy’s favorite.”
    “Yeah.”
Looking in the mirror, he ran his fingers through his neatly cropped brunette
hair. “She looks like your dad—in drag. There’s no wonder he’s so taken with
her.”
    “You
kidder.” Lake was standing beside her; she pinched his slacks between her
fingers and shook them. “You’re so mean today.” Jillian got up from her
dressing table and folded her arms.
    “I’ve
been in this family for six years,” he declared. “It takes a wacky sense of
humor to survive around here. I have your dad for a boss, a mother-in-law who
cares nothing for her liver, and a sister-in-law so spoiled, she can’t wipe her
own golden butt.”
    “Darling.
My parents are fantastic. And don’t you say another word about them.”
    “I’m
just being mischievous, honey. Your family is okay. But, I really like your brother
most of all.”
    “That’s
because he introduced us. Right?”
    “Yeah.
He did you a huge favor. Paid me to go out with his homely big sister.”
    “He
did not.”
    “I
know. But I love saying that.”
    Jillian
grew quiet. “I do feel like the black sheep of the family.”
    “Don’t
go there, Jillian. Sometimes, bi-racial children can take the dominate gene. There
is nothing wrong with your being darker skinned. You have a smooth color, like
a delicious dark caramel bite.”
    “Lake.
Mother is Caucasian. Father is African American. I look nothing like my
mother.” She picked up a long strand of raven hair. “There is nothing blonde
about this. Celeste’s hair is reddish blonde.”
    “Not
today, honey.” He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I’ve told you. There’s
nothing wrong with the texture of your hair, or the color of your marvelous skin.
I happen to love them—and I happen to love you.”
    “I’m
not saying I want to be Caucasian, Lake. I’m saying I don’t feel as if I belong
in this family. Something is wrong.”
    Using
a roller, Lake removed fragments of lint from his slacks. “The dreams are affecting
our lives aren’t they? Maybe you’re having them because you’re too scared to
have children. Sweetie, you’ll be thirty soon. Your clock is ticking. Don’t you
want children? You love children.”
    “I’m
terrified something awful will happen to my child. The dreams could be an omen. Maybe someone will take him from his crib. You do understand, don’t you?”
    Lake
lowered his gaze to meet hers. “If my wife is afraid to give me a son,
something is wrong.”
    “Please
don’t say that.” Jillian strolled to the walk-in closet. “I want to give you a
son, but I’m so very frightened.” She pointed toward the doorway to their
bedroom. “Don’t mind me, sweetheart. You’re going to be late for work.”
    Lake
raised a brow. “Do I need to check on you today?”
    “I’ll
be fine.” She pulled a dark suit from the closet and placed it on the bed. “I’ve
got an appointment to see Dr. Vega this morning. She said, I’m having repressed
memories. Please don’t get angry. No one else has been able to help me.”
     

 
     
    CHAPTER TWO
     
    At
the country club, Jillian helped her mother prepare for a Cancer Research fundraiser.
She straightened the lace tablecloth, then placed the pink pastel petit fours
just so. Afterwards, she stepped aside to admire her handiwork.
    Ester,
Jillian’s mother, placed a crystal punch bowl on the decorated table. “It’s
going to be splendid,” she said, placing the ladle beside it.
    “Mother.”
Jillian uncurled a vine of greenery. “You’re the best hostess. I think you
missed your calling.”
    Ester
gave her daughter a stern expression. “Are