Free Twins times two! by Lisa Bingham Page A

into her brain. "There's a man at your window?"
    Heidi nodded and yawned. "He's takin' pictures."
    A white-hot, uncontrollable fury spilled through her veins. It didn't take a rocket scientist to guess why the media was suddenly interested in this house and its occupants. And since Cara hadn't told anyone about the switching of the twins, other than her partners and her lawyer, that left one logical explanation.
    Ross. Damn the man.
    The emotions that had been simmering for days erupted. Without thinking, she grabbed the broom from its spot in the pantry and marched to the door.
    "Heidi, go get your sister and move into the living room. Turn on the television if you want,

    but stay away from the windows, do you understand?"
    Heidi nodded, her finger slipping into her mouth—a habit left over from babyhood and a clear sign that she was worried or upset.
    Slamming out of the back door, Cara rushed around the side of the house. Seeing a man in jeans and a dirty sweatshirt priming a camera with an enormous lens at her children's bedroom window, she started swinging.
    "Get out, get out, get out!"
    She whacked him on the shoulder, then, when he held up a hand to defend himself, she began hitting him on the top of his head.
    "Hey, lady! I'm with the National Expositor and we'd like to pay you—"
    "Out!"
    She hit him again and again, slowly driving him toward the front yard. As soon as he was past the myrtle bushes, she brandished the broom like a baseball bat.
    "Get out of here. All of you! You have no business here."
    "Hey, lady, we've got word that a story is breaking here. Something about switched twins."
    Cara was so furious she was shaking. "There's no story. Pack up your gear and clear out!"
    "We've got a right to be here. The public has a

    right to hear about any mistakes made by the local hospitals."
    Cara could have screamed. Instead she forced herself to say, "Get off this lawn and off my property or I'll have you arrested for trespassing. You have thirty seconds and then I let the Doberman loose."
    As she whirled back in the direction of the house, she had some satisfaction in seeing the reporters scrambling to get off her lawn.
    "Now if I only had a Doberman," she grumbled to herself as she stormed back to the house and slammed the door.
    For several seconds she stood in the middle of the kitchen, her broom held high and her body trembling with adrenaline. But as the surge of energy began to drain away, she felt her throat growing tight and tears pressing at the backs of her eyes.
    How could Ross Gifford have done this to her? She'd been so careful not to tell anyone, knowing instinctively that it was important to keep the whole affair a private matter.
    Without even consulting her, he'd made a public spectacle of her children—of her. No doubt, there would be pictures of Heidi and Zoe splashed across the evening paper—as well as one or two of Cara dressed in the oversize T-shirt, baggy boxer-style

    shorts and ankle socks that she'd worn to bed the previous evening.
    Damn him! What had he been thinking when he'd gone to the press with the story? Had Ross already begun maneuvering in an effort to win public sympathy for his plight? After all, Ross Gif-ford was Zoe's biological father where Cara was only her—
    Her what? Her aunt? Could she even lay claim to that title if Ross were to challenge her for custody of the girl?
    But wouldn't anyone realize that after all these months she had become so much more to the children and they to her?
    She heard the ringing of her front door, then the faint calls of, "Mr. Gifford, Mr. Gifford!"
    Marching toward the front door, she decided that the time had come for Ross Gifford to explain everything—including his intentions for the future.
    Ross had known there was trouble the moment Cara had called. Her tone had revealed a woman at the breaking point.
    Damn. He'd known that he should have called her earlier—and he didn't suppose that his hesi-tance in contacting her again