Taboo by Mallory Rush

weight. The only relief she found was in the sympathetic squeeze Trish gave her hand under the table before she commanded everyone's attention with a vivid recounting of a scandal at school.
    One grueling ordeal rolled into another. As soon as dessert was served, everyone gathered around to sing "Happy Adoption Day to You," then took turns presenting her with a gift.
    "Aunt Mabel, how sweet of you. White Shoulders talc and body lotion. I can't wait to take a bath and put some on."
    Without looking up, she could feel Grant's eyes boring into her. She could hear his thoughts— the idea of smoothing it on her mingling with the anger she knew was still simmering close to the surface.
    Grant was a man of purpose, and in spite of his independent thinking, his moral fiber was equally strong. She had offended him with her absurd suggestion that the power surging between them was only a physical whim. That was a crock and she knew it, but she'd been grasping at straws.
    "I drew it just for you," Audrey said as Cammie opened the girl's gift. "Mommy bought me new colors. I liked the purple for your hair. Don't forget, Uncle Grant, you promised to fix mine like Aunt Cammie's."
    Cammie snapped out of her trance, the crayon drawing barely registering as she hugged Audrey, not risking a glance at her parents for their reaction to the innocently spoken words.
    It was needless, she realized moments later. Grant ironically proved her salvation.
    "I hope you like them," he said as he handed her his gift. His fingers brushed hers, eliciting a thousand tiny thrills.
    She fumbled with the small package, her hands shaking with awareness of the tension crackling between them. Awareness of him, of their audience—and of her anticipation of receiving a gift from Grant, one given with overtones that had never been there in the past.
    Opening the jeweler's box, she gasped. Everyone leaned near, trying to catch a glimpse of the diamond-and-aquamarine-studded hairpins nestled into sapphire velvet. Personal, yet far more personal than anyone there could guess.
    "They're beautiful," she breathed, even the onlookers unable to diminish her awe. "I've looked at these every time I've passed the jeweler's window for the last two years."
    "I know," he said quietly, with an undercurrent only she would recognize. "You kept me waiting enough times while you window-shopped."
    She looked up at him as if in slow motion. The desire to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him sweet and hot was so strong, she yearned for life to have been different, his parents no longer hers.
    As she tilted her head up, he smiled the smile of a secret lover. Then he lifted a pin out and worked it into her hair. She strongly suspected his clumsiness was feigned, an excuse to toy with her hair longer than he should, to stroke his fingers against her scalp and create tingling, rippling chills.
    When both pins were in, everyone applauded— whether for the spectacular gift or Grant's seeming accomplishment, she wasn't sure.
    "Ladies and gentlemen. Friends and relatives," he announced, "I propose a toast to the loveliest lady to grace our TV sets each night." Everyone raised iced-tea glasses or beer mugs. "Here's to our Cammie. She's special. And she's ours."
    A cheer went up as glasses clinked and several sniffles were heard when Grant leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
    Appearances dictated a chaste kiss, and outwardly that was what they all saw. But Cammie felt his breath wisp against her ear, the tiny, hidden flick of his tongue; heard the whispered, "But most of all she's mine."
    Her head was still spinning, the sweet lushness of the exchange humming through her veins, when Dorothy and Edward handed her their present next.
    "A locket!" she exclaimed. "A gold heart. And the diamond and aquamarine match the hairpins. Thank you, Mom and Dad. It's perfect."
    "We found out what Grant had in store and decided you needed a set to wear on the news. Open it," Dorothy urged.
    Cammie