McCloud's Woman

by Patricia Rice

  Let him leave her after it was over.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Once she’d given him her promise, TJ held his fingers to his lips, cocked his head, and narrowed his gaze at the door. “Throw something,” he whispered.

  Startled, Mara leapt to do as asked. He had that effect on her. Without giving it much thought, she flung a brass candlestick from the mantel.

  TJ nodded. “More, and shout.” Leaving her in front of the window, he eased toward the door.

  Permission to throw a fit. Just what she needed. Full of pent-up misery, Mara flung pillows, shoes, and her damned PDA. She felt a certain sense of satisfaction as it exploded into a million bytes.

  “Out, you miserable rotten cur,” she screamed at the top of her lungs. That felt so good, she threw herself into it with more enthusiasm. “I’ll rip your tongue out, TJ McCloud! I’ll dice your balls.”

  TJ arched a wry eyebrow as he reached for the door knob, but Mara was in full gear now. “I’ll slice your liver and serve it to the turkeys—”

  TJ flung open the door, and half a dozen startled people nearly fell over each other as they tumbled into the room.

  Unabashed, Ian righted himself and glared at TJ. Katy Richards took in the layer of shattered glass with dismay. Constantina rushed to hug Mara, murmuring Italian consolations and giving TJ the evil eye. Several of the crew hastily backed down the hall at sight of TJ’s threatening demeanor.

  And Clay waited, hands in pockets, taking in the whole scene with sardonic humor, apparently well acquainted with his brother’s Machiavellian tactics.

  Before anyone else could speak, TJ escalated into field commander mode. “Ian, find Godivas for the lady. Break into the drugstore if it’s closed. Kate, find a good hot dinner.”

  TJ glanced over his shoulder, and Mara’s frayed nerve endings quivered at his look of concern. Independence was fine when she was feeling strong, but when the world rolled over her and crushed her flat, it was heartbreakingly wonderful to have a wiser, stronger head in charge.

  “What would you like to eat?” he asked in a voice that allowed no argument.

  She was starving. Now that she knew she could rely on TJ a little longer, it was as if the weight of the world had temporarily lifted, and she could look around again. “Meatloaf,” she stated decisively, “with lots of gravy and biscuits.”

  Constantina stared at her in horror. Ian looked confused. Mara simply didn’t care. She beamed at them with good humor. Being crazy had its moments.

  “Clay, take my car,” TJ ordered. “Bring my duffel and shaving kit back in the morning. And Jared’s espresso machine.”

  Mara liked the sound of espresso. She wasn’t too certain about the rest, but TJ was doing what he did best, taking charge. Who was she to interfere?

  Clay looked her up and down. Apparently deciding she wouldn’t explode and take TJ with her, he grabbed the back of Ian’s shirt. “C’mon. I’m good at breaking and entering. Show me the drugstore.”

  Sputtering, Ian backed out the door.

  “Katy, we’ll reimburse you for the breakage.” Deciding she ought to be responsible for some of these orders, Mara turned to Constantina. “Con, find some cleaning equipment so I can clean up this mess. I’m fine, really I am.” Sort of. Some day. Putting on a brave face was half the job.

  Under TJ’s not-so-gentle urging, their audience reluctantly departed. With a look of exhaustion, he closed the door and leaned against it. Arms rippling with muscle bespoke his strength, but his collapsed stance warned even TJ had his limits.

  “I’m sorry,” Mara murmured, not knowing what else to say.

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He straightened, driving his hand through his hair. It had grown longer these last weeks and kept falling in his eyes. “If anyone’s to blame here, I am.”

  “Well, yeah, if my producer gets arrested for stealing chocolate, I’ll hold you responsible, but that wasn’t what I meant.” Uneasy now that the drama had ended, Mara wandered lost around the room, not knowing what to do with herself.

  “I knew what you meant.” TJ blocked the French windows overlooking the harbor, following her every move with his eyes. “I’m not Sid or Irving. I take responsibility for my actions. This is my fault.”

  “Oh, right, and I was just a chair in all this.” She liked it that he didn’t blame her, that he stood ready to shoulder his fair share and more. She just wasn’t used to it.

  She took the seat at her vanity and began picking up the bottles and cosmetics she’d knocked to the floor in her earlier storm of rage. “You don’t have to stay, TJ. I’ll be okay.”

  “No, you won’t. And neither will I. This is not something that will ever be okay.” He glanced around, and finding the desk phone under a chair, pulled it out and started dialing.

  Guilt stole through Mara, but she couldn’t give in to it. Most men would be relieved that she wanted to get rid of this problem. Not TJ. She shouldn’t have told him.

  She couldn’t have done anything less. That realization momentarily overwhelmed her. TJ was a part of her. She couldn’t hide things from him, couldn’t lie, couldn’t pretend, couldn’t even think about pretending. All these years since Brad’s death, she’d gone through life alone. It had taken TJ less than a month to become an extension of herself, the part that understood even when she was most confused, the part that could be strong when she weakened.

  She didn’t know how she could go on without him, but after this disaster, there was no question of going on together. He would hate her for what she had to do. And she couldn’t burden him with what she was.

  She couldn’t face the totality of the devastation just yet.

  “Yeah, move the guys here,” TJ said into the receiver. “The place is fenced but it’s not secured. We’ll need two guards to patrol, and at least one on the drive. If there’s any trouble, we may need to upgrade to two. Immediately. Right.” TJ hung up the phone and started to dial again.

  Mara caught the receiver and hung it up. “What are you doing?” They were too close. She instantly backed away as the intensity of TJ’s stare burned into her like a laser beam.

  “I’m reverting to Incredible Hulk mode,” he said gravely. “You throw things. I put up barriers. I’m moving security here.”

  “You’ve been reading Jared’s comics again, haven’t you? What the devil do we need security for?”

  “I’m not having this place crawling with reporters out to nail my hide to the wall.” He punched buttons as curtly as he spoke. “We need time to talk, and we can’t do it in the middle of a three-ring circus.”

  Not entirely certain that a circus wouldn’t be the best solution, Mara answered a hesitant knock at the door and let Katy and Constantina in, wielding brooms and vacuums.

  After that, the constant coming and going prevented serious conversation, just as he’d predicted. Ian returned with Godivas and wine and the next day’s script changes. One of Katy’s staff arrived bearing meatloaf and french fries and an assortment of veggies smothered in butter.

  Mara settled down to dig into the food, but looked up in surprise when TJ appropriated her wine.

  “Alcohol is bad for babies.” He carried the bottle back to the desk and sipped from the glass he’d taken from her.

  Half a dozen arguments leapt futilely to her lips, but she didn’t utter any of them. He said he needed time to adjust. She’d give him a few days. That’s all she could afford.

  “I’ve spent fifteen years studying bones of dead people,” he continued without any prompting from her. “I’m discovering a dismaying desire for life-affirming events. There’s too much death in this world.”

  Oh, damn. Mara rubbed her forehead but that didn’t stimulate her frozen brain. “There’s life all around us, TJ.”

  “I know. And I know that life doesn’t have to be my baby. Babies are born all the time.” He turned his back to her so she couldn’t read the shadows of his face.

  “Don’t you think this would b
e easier if we didn’t see each other?” He wanted children. She lost her appetite, but she picked at the food anyway. She wasn’t eating for two. She would not kid herself into believing that.

  “No. There’s no ‘easier’ to it.” Grimly, he settled into the wing chair by the fireplace and drained the wineglass.

  This time, she bore the full brunt of his gaze. Damn, he was so strikingly large, so male sitting there like some arrogant prince weighing the woes of the world. If he weren’t so darned full of integrity, she could almost resist him.

  “Go back and visit my mother,” Mara said dryly. “Don’t get me wrong. I love her. She loved us and took care of us and stood up for us against all but my father. But the woman who brought me up is almost totally gone now.”

  He set the glass aside and rubbed his temples. “Your aunt isn’t afflicted. Grandparents? Anyone else?”

  “They think it’s a recessive gene.” Giving up on food, Mara sipped the coffee TJ had ordered for her. “My maternal grandparents died in the war, so we don’t have a family history. The doctor said Brad’s suicide could have been some form of it, but we’ll never know now. Aunt Miriam says we come from a long line of eccentrics.” She offered a deprecating grin. “My aunt speaks ill only of the living.”

  TJ started to speak, but Mara waved his words away. “Don’t, TJ. I’ve already experienced one terrifying episode. I can’t afford another, and I can’t inflict on a child what my mother has inflicted on me. I refuse to pass on this trait to another generation. The buck stops here.”

  “Tell me about the homeless-in-the-park incident.”

  The change in direction jolted her, but TJ’s inquiring mind needed feeding, and she was his current topic of interest. She tried not to revisit this particular subject if she could avoid it, but she supposed he ought to know all the parameters of the situation.

  “I was only twenty. Irving and I had our ups and downs, but I was raised to believe marriage was forever, so I was making the best of it. This was before my mother’s symptoms were diagnosed.”

  TJ poured another glass of wine and stoically bit his tongue—she could tell by the way his jaw muscles clenched. She’d lived it. He could listen.

  “Anyway, I arrived at the store early one day, and there was Irving in the back room, his pants down around his ankles, boffing the airhead clerk.” Mara closed her eyes against the pain. “I’m not certain what I did—screamed, hit him with my pocketbook, who knows? I certainly caught him off guard, and he came up swinging. I think it was the gushing blood that prevented us from killing each other.

  “We were all absurdly civilized, finding ice, cleaning up, taking me to the emergency room. The doctors patched me up, told me to come back for surgery, and I got up, got dressed, and wandered out without looking for Irving. I didn’t go home. I went away somewhere inside my head. The police returned me to Irving a few weeks later when they found me crying on a park bench. I remember very little of those weeks. End of story.”

  TJ nodded knowingly. “Depression. That’s treatable.”

  “What Mama has, isn’t,” she argued, knowing the subject well.

  “You don’t know that you have what she does.”

  “I’m not willing to take that risk.” She bit her lip against a sob, praying he’d understand.

  TJ leaned his head back against the chair. “I want to come over there and hold you right now, but I don’t dare.” His voice sounded strained, and his big hands gripped the chair arms until his knuckles turned white. “You cried all the way through Brad’s funeral, and I didn’t dare go to you then either. Where you’re concerned, my protective instincts are all screwed up with hormones. Back then, I figured you hated me and wouldn’t want me touching you. Right now...” He gestured helplessly. “You have reason to hate me twice as much.”

  “The Incredible Hulk thinks with his prick,” she said dryly. “Women understand that. We’re really not as dumb as we look.”

  He sat up and cocked his eyebrow, challenging her. “All right, we’ll take this one step at a time. Will you let me sleep with you, or shall I ask Katy for a cot?”

  Sometimes, his bluntness was hard to take. There was something to be said for padding honesty with warm fuzzies. But she wanted TJ in her lonely bed so much, she didn’t care how the offer arrived. She submitted a perfunctory protest. “Do you think sleeping together is the smart thing to do?”

  “I don’t think intelligence has anything to do with where we are now.” The dry tone of his voice made her wince.

  “I’m winging it,” he continued, staying firmly planted in the chair. “I want to sleep with you. That’s not all I want to do,” he admitted, “but I thought maybe this time, we could try talking about it first. Lend some token of rationality.”

  He still wanted to sleep with her. Mara let that pleasant thought comfort her. Despite everything she’d hit him with in these last few hours, he didn’t want to run screaming for the hills. Every other man of her acquaintance would be running so hard by now, she wouldn’t even see his dust. “You’re the one who threw me out last time,” she reminded him.

  “For your own good. I’ve got a few problems you don’t need to be burdened with.”

  Mara flung the coffee cup at his obtuse head. Fortunately for both of them, it was empty. TJ caught it with one hand and set it beside his glass.

  Her breath caught as he rose from the chair. He was so damned magnificent, it terrified her to believe a man like that would want her.

  Though she knew he was in as much turmoil as she, he looked calm and confident and gorgeous. Sturdy tanned hands reached out to help her from the chair. Muscled arms clasped her against a chest so powerful, she could feel the strength he restrained as he bent to kiss her cheek. In TJ’s arms, even an ungraceful ostrich like her could feel cherished.

  It couldn’t hurt to feel loved for just a few days. Every soul needed the nourishment of love and gentleness to flourish and grow. Perhaps, if she was very careful, she could help TJ in the same way.

  Standing on tiptoes, she clasped the sides of his head and brought his lips to hers. She would offer what little she could, and pray she wouldn’t drive him away too soon.

  ***

  TJ leaned his shoulder on the window frame and watched the dawn spread over the yachts bobbing in the harbor. After Mara’s incredibly intense lovemaking last night, he should have slept like a dead man. He hadn’t slept a wink.

  The woman in the bed behind him had seeped inside some part of him he hadn’t known existed. He wanted her. He’d always wanted her. That much, he understood. But even after they made love and physical desires had been momentarily satiated, there was a connection, and a hunger he couldn’t resolve in any known fashion.

  For one insane moment yesterday, wild hope had blossomed, and he had imagined marriage and babies and a house he could go home to at night where he could feel loved and wanted.

  He hadn’t even known he’d needed those things until Mara had said he couldn’t have them—not with her. She was the only woman he knew who could make him contemplate domesticity—probably because Mara’s idea of domesticity had him ducking for cover half the time.

  He grinned briefly at the memory of some of their skirmishes, then rubbed his forehead again and tried not to turn to admire Mara’s slenderness buried under the covers. He’d learned she liked the air-conditioning turned up so she could sleep with the blankets on. He thought he could spend a lifetime uncovering the secrets of her mind and never grow bored. He wanted a lifetime with Mara.

  He wanted their child.

  Tears prickled behind his eyelids, but he wasn’t a man who cried easily. Pain simply welled and ate at his gut.

  He had no right to demand anything of her. He’d already caused enough harm. But every time he thought about the child they’d created... He knew he was willing to take chances. Mara wasn’t. She needed security. She needed hairdressers and limos and lace pillows and all those things his life didn’t include.

  Sh
e stirred and called sleepily. The seductive sound drew TJ like a siren song, reminding him of why he couldn’t insist, couldn’t argue, could do nothing to make this more difficult for her. He had to think of Mara first. She’d been through hell. No man had any right to ask her to repeat that journey.

  Trying to find that place inside himself where he retreated when he examined the bones of murdered children, TJ forced a smile, and sat down on the bed. “I’ll bring you some coffee,” he promised, brushing a kiss across her brow.

  “And shoot anyone who comes near us,” she murmured, snuggling closer.

  “That can be arranged.” Smiling genuinely now, TJ smoothed the hair from her eyes.

  He just needed to find the woman he knew and loved inside the shell of Mara Simon, glamorous movie producer. Shy Patsy had retreated into hiding, but once he persuaded her to come out, he could try reasoning with her fears.

  She needed him. This time, he wouldn’t leave.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “You had a message from Dad and a rather erratic one from the colonel.” Clay announced, entering the dining room where TJ and Mara sat sipping coffee and scanning newspapers. He set the espresso machine he carried on the counter where Katy indicated.

  “The cottage doesn’t have an answering machine,” TJ replied curtly.

  Aware of her crew gradually filling the other tables, Mara didn’t interfere in the conversation between brothers, but she rather thought TJ was missing the point. Probably deliberately.

  “Jared does.” Clay plugged in the coffee machine and checked the dials.

  TJ growled and set aside his newspaper. “How erratic?”

  “Once I got past some of the most inventive swearing I’ve heard in a while, it sounded as if the colonel’s blaming you for turning on him. I believe he accused you of lying, betrayal, and possibly the end of Christianity.”

  “He found out I gave the boxes to the media.” TJ picked up the paper again.