“Clay is lousy at keeping a schedule, but excellent at choosing his timing,” TJ replied enigmatically.
The limo remained where it had halted, and Ian stalked toward them. Several of the technicians climbed from their jeeps and trucks to better watch the confrontation.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, McCloud? Isn’t it bad enough we have to scale that dune on foot every day, that now you have to turn the road into a helipad to block our access?”
“Even though I’ve got an injunction that permits it, I didn’t increase security or block your ATVs,” TJ said evenly. “You should be grateful for the reprieve.”
“You knew I’d have your ass fried if you tried.” Slender and half a foot shorter than TJ, the producer kept his distance. “Now, if you’ll get out of our way—”
“Actually, I stopped you for a reason. I have enough evidence to prove a World War Two-era murder may have been committed here, and I have permission to expand the dig past the access road. The feds are waiting for a phone call from me to set the process in motion.”
Mara knew TJ had evidence of a crime. She wasn’t so certain about the feds agreeing to expand the dig, but she’d never seen Ian shut up so fast. She was pretty flabbergasted as well. World War II?
She eyed TJ skeptically. He wouldn’t do this to her, would he? What good would it do to get her film back if she couldn’t reach the beach?
In TJ’s eyes, it wasn’t her film anymore, and he was perfectly capable of getting even... or of using the threat to get her job back. That was the TJ she knew.
Slowly her hope rose, and Mara fought back a triumphant expression as she watched a reporter climbing out of the limo, and another hand his beer to a techie so he could reach for his notebook. War crimes made great press.
“You’re bluffing,” Ian countered brashly, reaching for his ever-present cell phone. “I’ll sic the attorneys on you.”
TJ shrugged, wrapped his arm around Mara’s shoulders, and eased her toward the edge of the road. “Just thought a friendly warning was in order. I fear you’ll find the attorneys otherwise occupied. Spoke to Sid lately?”
Mara’s stomach clenched at the threat in TJ’s voice. What had he done this time?
Ian’s fingers hovered over the cell phone buttons. He glanced uncertainly at Mara, then back to TJ. “Why?”
“Probably not my business to say if he hasn’t called you to explain. Let’s just say that you’ve placed your bets on the wrong partner.”
Mara recognized the expression in Ian’s eyes. He was weighing odds, choosing which bridges not to burn. People didn’t survive in Hollywood without leaving escape routes open, and Ian was as much of a survivor as she was. Or better. She’d actually trusted Sid in the divorce agreement. Ian wouldn’t have.
“I’m just taking orders from my employer,” Ian countered carefully.
In a decidedly proprietary manner, TJ caressed Mara’s ear lobe. A shiver of pleasure shot down her spine, but she was too interested in the conversation to return the gesture. Crossing her arms and leaning into TJ, she waited for the explosion.
“You own half the company, don’t you?” TJ asked her.
She wasn’t certain she’d told him that, but it wasn’t exactly private information. She nodded, and a curl of hair fell from her topknot across her cheek. She must look a mess, and bored journalists were snapping their cameras to record her lack of glamour. She considered easing behind TJ’s big body to hide, but his arm provided all the shelter she needed.
“Sid has the controlling share.” She resisted saying she was a flunky, even if that was what every man here was thinking. Except TJ, bless his righteous heart.
“I think, in view of Sid’s legal problems, he may be willing to forfeit that control,” TJ replied thoughtfully, looking at Ian rather than at her. “I bet if you pick up your voice mail, you have calls from a number of investors by now.”
Mara fumbled for her cell phone in her shoulder bag, while Ian glanced nervously at the one in his hand.
“It’s still early in L.A.,” TJ pointed out helpfully.
Escaping from TJ’s hold and retreating to the Taurus with a pounding heart and a vaguely sick taste in her mouth, Mara punched in the number for her voice mail. A dozen messages waited. With fascination and dread building, she listened to the first staticky call. And the second.
By the time she’d heard them all, the clearing had fallen completely silent. Ian shut off his phone and stared at her as if he feared his head would roll.
And TJ was nowhere in sight.
“I know a lawyer who can advise you,” Ian offered cautiously. “Sid’s gonna have his hands full for some months to come. You don’t want the company to slip out of control in the meantime.”
Mara watched the reporters in the back hastily checking their own voice mail or making frantic calls. Reception on the island was bad, and some of them were cursing and urging their drivers to pull around the barrier of cars in the lane.
Sid had been arrested on drug and sex charges. Justice had finally been served, and she suspected the wielder of the gavel came in the form of one TJ McCloud, with perhaps a little help from a brother. Clay should have stuck around to watch the fun.
“I can give you a ride into town,” Ian offered. “We need to start making plans.”
She had her life back. And TJ had just absented himself from it.
Something visceral ripped in two at the thought of returning to her lonely bed and a life surrounded by sycophants who would bring her coffee at a snap of the fingers but wouldn’t share their New York Times with her. A week ago, that had been all she wanted out of life. A week ago, not one person in that caravan of cars had lifted a finger to help when Ian had tossed her out. TJ had.
She glanced at the bushes he’d disappeared into, and back to the limo waiting to return her to the film that would make her career.
Dammit, she wouldn’t let him do this to her again. She was a big girl now, and this time, she wouldn’t let him walk away without some answers.
Smiling grimly at the line of actors, journalists, and technicians, no longer caring if she looked like a skinny librarian, Mara waved to them as if she were queen of all she surveyed. “See y’all in the morning. I’ve got better things to do tonight.”
Fury concealed behind her smile, she stalked down the path toward the dune, leaving Ian to figure out how they’d get around the Taurus she had left blocking the lane.
Chapter Twenty-four
TJ had just stepped from the shower into the bedroom when his door slammed open, and Mara stalked through with all the fires of hell blazing in her eyes. Still dripping and rubbing his hair with a towel, he tried not to let his need for her overrule common sense. Even though she’d regressed to a tank top and jeans, she only vaguely resembled the teenager he’d once loved. He knew the woman she was now far better than the child she’d been, though, and he wanted her more than ever.
Diplomatically, he wrapped the towel around his waist to conceal the direction of his thoughts.
“I’m sick and tired of people telling me how to lead my life!” she shouted. “I’m sick and tired of others thinking they know what’s best for me.” Crossing the room, she smacked her palm against TJ’s chest, shoving him backward—or attempting to.
Having no clue where her agile mind had taken her and with no ability to ponder anything while she stood inches from his rapidly rising ardor, TJ simply waited for explanation. Women always yelled at him and walked out. He’d never had one stand up to him before. He was fascinated.
“Don’t give me that enigmatic look, Timothy John!” She pounded him with her fist, forcing him to back up against the bed. “You walked away again. Don’t you ever walk away from me like that. If you want to get rid of me, say it to my face.”
“I only wanted a shower,” he muttered, but deep inside, he knew what she meant. He just hadn’t expected to be called on it. He’d expected her to climb into the limo with Ian and start planning
the rest of her life.
“The hell you did!” She kicked off her mules and undulated out of her tank top.
TJ thought his eyes might pop out as naked breasts brushed his chest, more tempting than any strip show he’d ever seen. The tips were taut and begging for plucking, and releasing the towel, he placed his hands behind him on the bed to prevent reaching for them. “I didn’t want a shower?” he asked with some confusion. So much for his much-heralded mental processes.
“You expected me to walk away, didn’t you, big boy?” She reached for the snap of her jeans and wriggled out of them in record time.
He supposed he had, if he thought about it, but right now, his mind was otherwise occupied. She wore a scanty bikini panty made of snow white lace. It skimmed curving hips and taunted him with a shadow of invitation. What exactly was he supposed to do here?
“Well, it’s not working, TJ. I’m not one of your nitwit assistants. I’m not disappearing into the woodwork or walking out. Just call me albatross.” She flung her arms around his shoulders, pressed her mouth to his, and he couldn’t call her anything if he wanted. His mouth was much too busy.
TJ toppled back on the bed, and Mara fell on top of him. Scrambling to her knees, she continued leaning over him, wrapping her hands in his hair, pressing hungry kisses across his jaw, tempting him with bouncing breasts he could no longer resist. When he cupped them, she ground her hips against his abdomen, and TJ lost any pretense of control.
He caught her head and held her still so he could plunder her mouth with his tongue. She wriggled down until his erection brushed the lace of her panties, and he lost his grip on her hair to tear at the obstacle in his way. She yelped as he ripped off the scrap of lace, then rose high on her knees, and came down on him so swiftly, he almost erupted right then.
Sheathed in her moist heat, he quit worrying about anything. He held her hips and pumped deeper, but he craved the softness of her breasts against his mouth. She shrieked as he rolled her to her back, then wrapped her legs around his hips once he captured her nipple and sucked it deeply.
He knew in the back of his mind that they needed to stop, to gain control, to think, but his id had taken the reins and urged his body to a gallop and nothing barred his way.
Mara had come after him. He’d given her what she wanted most, and she’d turned her back on it and come looking for him. Joy and triumph flowed, unhampered by logic. Giving into primal need, TJ drove high, inhaled her scream of ecstasy as she climaxed, and in gratitude, poured his release deep within her.
The blare of a car horn intruded through the open window.
Mara wriggled, but TJ held her pinned. Winded, he didn’t bother explaining.
“I’m not going anywhere, TJ,” she countered with stubbornness. “We’re going to work this out this time. I’ll go to the doctor in the morning to get the pill.”
The Pill. TJ pressed his forehead to hers, then rolled over, taking her with him. The car horn quit blowing. He knew that was an ominous sign but he had other alarming things to consider. They hadn’t used a condom. Again.
He was on the brink of one disaster and courting another. “We’ve got separate lives, Mara,” he cautioned. “You’re better off recognizing that now, and getting out while you can.”
Still holding him inside her, she circled her hips, catching his anatomy’s attention again. “Tell me you want me to leave,” she taunted.
“Keep that up, and you’ll be sporting a fat belly beneath those crop tops,” he warned. “How will you vamp your money men then?”
“Low blow, McCloud.” She rolled off and glared at the ceiling.
Feeling like a heel, TJ turned on his side to caress her tumbling hair from her face. “I’m sorry. You have this incredible ability to turn me into my old protective teenage hulk. I want to pound any man looking at you into dust. Breaking Irving’s nose wasn’t an accident.”
Mara smiled, and TJ’s insides melted. He could dive into those laughing green pools and never come up again. The wretched imp had him tied in knots, and if she started singing Doo-wah-diddy anytime in the next thirty seconds, he’d never escape alive.
“Thank you for nailing Sid for me,” she whispered, wearing the admiring expression that turned him inside out every time.
“I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done, once you’d got beyond your niceness. You need to trust yourself more,” he said gruffly.
He had to make her see she could stand on her own. He wouldn’t always be there. She’d gain her confidence once she had this film in the can. She’d go back to Hollywood, he’d go back to whatever career was left to him, and he would never see her again. He had to imprint that fact on his lust-riddled brain.
“I’ll give you two minutes to get decent!” an irritatingly familiar voice echoed from below.
“Shit.” TJ dropped back to the mattress, jarred from his black thoughts by the intrusion. “This isn’t Jared’s place, baby brother,” he shouted at the ceiling, lacking the energy to do more.
“There’s no food in Jared’s place,” Clay shouted back. “But I picked up today’s newspaper from his box. The headlines should have Mom on the phone screaming shortly.”
Just what he needed. Triple damned shit. Roger must have had an entire team of reporters working through that material to get a story out this soon.
Beside him, Mara chuckled and leaned over to kiss his bristly jaw. “I remember your mother. Charming woman. Give her my regards. I’ll go fetch dinner and shove it down Clay’s throat.”
He’d just destroyed her ex-husband and partner, without warning her of what he was doing. She hadn’t offered a word of objection to his high-handedness. Did she understand that he’d done it for her? Had he really found a woman who got it?
It didn’t seem possible, but TJ wanted—needed—to keep the lines of communication open between them. He didn’t want to screw things up this time, no matter what the future held.
He caught Mara’s waist and held her still. “I’m sorry if I hurt you with what we did to Sid.”
Mara blew a raspberry and wrinkled her nose. “He had it coming. I tried to save him, but I was just enabling. You did him a favor. And me. Bless you.” She kissed his cheek and wriggled out of his hold when TJ’s hands began to roam. “I want to hear the story, though. Let me get dressed first.”
“There isn’t much of a story.” Reluctantly, TJ rolled from the bed and reached for a pair of cutoffs. “Clay tracked down his schedule for the week—and we won’t ask how he did that. Then we had a private investigator follow him. Sid set himself up. Everyone knew where he was going and what he was doing. The PI just called the cops.”
“The terrible waste of a good mind.” Mara headed for the shower, carrying her clothes. “And I’m not talking about Sid. That brother of yours needs a life.”
TJ chuckled as she disappeared behind closed doors. Life could be very interesting with a woman like her around.
He sobered as he trotted down the stairs to face Clay holding a folded newspaper. If he read his brother’s expression correctly, Roger’s story must be a humdinger.
“Don’t suppose that’s news of Sid’s arrest you’re reading.” Stoically, without reaching for the newspaper, TJ headed for the kitchen. The scent of fried chicken wafted through the small cottage, but what he needed was a drink.
“Nope. Looks like your old friend Martin is in a bit of hot water.” Clay flung the paper on the table and accepted the beer that TJ handed him. “Seems evidence has revealed that Balkan war criminals have been released without benefit of trial, and there’s rumor of favors and cash being exchanged. The colonel’s name seems to be all over it. They’re talking of locking him up.”
“And this involves me how?” TJ took a long gulp of beer.
“It doesn’t, yet. But even you strong, silent types occasionally mention who you’re working with. And an old family friend in the headlines tends to attract Mom’s notice.” Clay rattled through the paper bags from the café, r
emoving Styrofoam cartons of the dinner Mara had intended for her and TJ.
“The man’s not convicted yet.” TJ wandered to the kitchen window but his excavation site was too far away to tell if Clay had brought back the car along with their dinner.
Cold winds wailed through the hollow of his heart as he listened for Mara’s footsteps on the stairs. Instead of trusting his friend and mentor, he’d betrayed Martin to the press, thrown him to the jackals. Retribution would follow. He didn’t expect anything as dramatic as Brad’s fiery exit, but the result could be just as devastating to his family.
The phone rang. TJ didn’t answer it.
Gnawing on a chicken leg, Clay watched him with interest.
Mara’s happy footsteps danced down the stairs. TJ turned to watch her enter. Inquisitive green eyes darted from him to Clay to the telephone, but she ignored the ringing as well. “That’s my chicken you’re eating Thomas Clayton McCloud. Did you steal the car too?”
“Hot-wired it. If I’d known I’d still have to walk, I’d have left it there. Why would anyone live out here where there isn’t even a Starbucks?” Clay threw the chicken bone into the trash and reached for a paper towel to clean his hands.
The phone stopped shrieking. The cottage had no answering machine or voice mail. TJ rummaged in the sacks, while Mara reached for the newspaper. She whistled at the headline, scanned the article rapidly, then threw it back to the table.
To TJ’s relief, she walked across the room and wrapped her arms around his waist. He folded her in his arms, and soothing warmth and energy seeped through him from every place they touched. He couldn’t let her get involved in the train wreck heading his way, but for right this minute, he absorbed the comfort of what might have been.
“If he’s innocent, the truth will set him free,” she whispered against his skin. “If he’s guilty, he needs to go down.”
“If he’s guilty, TJ’s likely to go down with him,” Clay added cynically, popping open a carton of mashed potatoes. “Guilt by association, if nothing else. TJ’s a trained observer and worked closely with Martin. A good prosecutor can tear his reputation to shreds.”
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