“I’ll never be boring, but I’ll be your wife,” Mara agreed, loving the way his grin twisted wryly at her correction. “But I sure hope you take that New York job and not one down here. I need my espresso.”
“I think that can be arranged,” he said with complete gravity, before leaning over to retrieve one of the rubber eggs from beneath a wicker chair, swinging around unexpectedly, and flinging it with the strength of a seasoned baseball pitcher at the familiar reporter leading the procession.
Roger Curtis ducked, and the rubber egg splatted the beaming mayor.
“Works for me.” Tugging Mara from the porch, TJ ventured out to meet the townsfolk in his newly acquired status of a man engaged to the most beautiful woman in the world.
Epilogue
“Saying farewell to your Hollywood days?” TJ asked, propping his tuxedo-clad shoulder against a corner of the balcony overlooking the wedding reception in the B&B’s lobby. With all the help available, it had only taken two weeks to plan the wedding and reception.
Below, in the lobby atrium, Mara’s film crew mingled with family and townspeople to the rousing notes of a local band.
He kept his expression deliberately impassive as he watched Mara instead of the party. Leaning on the rail beside him, she wore some kind of frothy, sheer gold fabric over a figure-hugging gold silk sheath. TJ definitely noticed what she wore these days because he never knew what she had on underneath. This outfit had a perfectly respectable heart-shaped neckline, but he had glimpsed bare skin in that keyhole opening between her breasts.
“I won’t miss Hollywood.” Turning to lean against the rail and study him through too-perceptive cat eyes, she raised an eyebrow in a fashion remarkably similar to his own. “No more playing the starlet and flapping eyelashes to pry money out of deep pockets. Unless you have other ideas?”
She was taunting him, TJ knew. She knew he wasn’t like her other husbands and wouldn’t use her that way. It might take a little time until he could unbend and tease her back, but her laughing look reminded him that she understood and accepted his caution.
It was a matter of trust, he decided. He trusted Mara not to walk out if he said the wrong thing or if he got wrapped up in his world and forgot to be human occasionally. “People will think you’re crazy for giving up Hollywood for a snow-covered burg in New York," he said.
Mara laughed. Crossing her arms under her breasts, she drew his gaze to a part of her anatomy he’d refrained from touching until she’d fully healed. He was afraid he’d start drooling if he looked too hard.
“Can’t see yourself wielding a shovel in a postage- stamp-sized yard, McCloud?”
TJ grinned at the obnoxious little-girl tone she adopted for old times’ sake. He never wanted her to cry again, and he was a little anxious about his ability to make her happy, but Mara would always be Mara, and he loved her that way. “Albany has a Starbucks and a newsstand. If that’s all you require, I can handle snow. It’s no heavier than sand.”
Mara snuggled closer, compelling TJ to wrap his arm around her. He’d been celibate these last two weeks while they planned the wedding. Touching the softness of her bare shoulder, inhaling the flowery aroma of her perfume, was testing his limits now. Even his limited imagination could envision the night ahead in Technicolor detail.
A familiar heaviness settled in his groin, and he adjusted his tux discreetly. Making love with Mara was something to look forward to, but in these last weeks, he’d learned just having her within reach to hug and laugh with was special. The bond between them was so strong that he could almost hear her thinking.
“I’ll choose snow over Hollywood any day,” she said without hesitation. “Will you curl up in front of the fire with me?”
“Every night.” He gripped her tighter, knowing with this woman by his side, he gave up nothing but gained a dream. “I’ll come home and you can read to me what you’ve written that day and I’ll applaud heartily.”
Mara laughed. “No, you won’t. You’ll tell me it’s melodramatic garbage, but that’s okay. I can live with criticism. I’m glad the lawyer suggested I form a consortium to buy out Sid. It will be nice having a real life again.”
“Not to mention an automatic buyer for your scripts,” he added gravely.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “The scripts have to be good or the films won’t sell.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Did I say I doubted you?”
She kissed his cheek and loosened his tie. “No, but you just want to get in my bed and will say anything to get there.”
“You have a problem with that?” As the music below changed to a slow tune, TJ wrapped his arms around Mara and led her into a dance step.
Her smile of delight at his impromptu action was so devastating, he almost swept her into his arms and carried her off right then and there. He’d never understood that a simple thing like dancing could delight a woman. He needed to invest some time in learning what else made Mara happy. Teddy bears and dancing. Maybe flowers? Moonlight. He bet she’d like moonlight. He’d dance with her in the moonlight tonight.
Swaying easily in his arms, Mara chuckled at the memory of an earlier incident. “I can’t believe your mother tracked down the colonel and scolded him. She’s probably scared him into writing his memoirs and nominating you for sainthood for saving his life. I think she’s terrorized half the journalists in the crowd into believing you’re a hero.”
“I am her favorite,” he replied solemnly, although a smile tugged the corner of his mouth.
Glancing over the railing as they swung past, she lifted her eyebrows questioningly. “Which is why Clay and Jared are over there in the corner with their heads together?”
“Who needs kids when I have brothers?” TJ asked, halting their dance to check over the rail again. Grimacing at the sight below, he reached down to pick up a shield he’d unwired from the suit of armor in Katy’s collection of antiques. He set it in place just as the first rubber egg whistled upward, splatting nicely against the tarnished metal.
Mara looked startled, then glowered. “Why those little brats—”
TJ lifted a basket he’d hidden behind the post before she could rush down the stairs and scalp his brothers. “Fresh off the production line. Knowing Jared, I expected this. Introducing Cleo’s toy at our reception is no doubt his idea of good advertising. I’d aim for the punch bowl next to Clay, if I were you.”
Mara’s whole face lit with such delight that paralysis nearly set in. TJ caught the next whistling egg just in time.
She’d never had a real childhood. It made him happy to offer her one.
Grabbing a handful of the spongy eggs TJ held out to her, Mara barraged the group below, hitting the punch bowl, the leftover wedding cake, Ian’s cell phone, and her Aunt Miriam’s tiara.
Without further ado, TJ dropped the shield, grabbed Mara’s wicked right arm, and tugged her toward the back stairs. “Now!” he shouted.
Under cover of screams of laughter from below, TJ and Mara raced for the safety of the yacht waiting in the harbor, ready to set sail for the first night of the rest of their lives.
About Patricia Rice
With several million books in print and New York Times and USA Today’s bestseller lists under her belt, former CPA Patricia Rice is one of romance’ss hottest authors. Her emotionally-charged contemporary and historical romances have won numerous awards, including the RT Book Reviews Reviewers Choice and Career Achievement Awards. Her books have been honored as Romance Writers of America RITA® finalists in the historical, regency and contemporary categories.
A firm believer in happily-ever-after, Patricia Rice is married to her high school sweetheart and has two children. A native of Kentucky and New York, a past resident of North Carolina, she currently resides in St. Louis, Missouri, and now does accounting only for herself. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, the Authors Guild, and Novelists, Inc.
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Book View Café Bookshelf
Copyright & Credits
McCloud’s Woman
The Carolina Series Book Two
Patricia Rice
Book View Café edition January 2012
ISBN: 978-1-61138-132-0
Copyright © 2003 Patricia Rice
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not inspired by any person known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form.
First published: Ivy Books, The Ballantine Publishing Group, 2003
The Carolina Series
Impossible Dreams
Almost Perfect
McCloud’s Woman
Carolina Girl
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Sample Chapter
Carolina Girl
The Carolina Series Book Three
Patricia Rice
Book View Café Edition
May 2012
ISBN: 978-1-61138-133-7
Copyright © 2004 Patricia Rice
www.bookviewcafe.com
Chapter One
“You’re kidding me, right?” Aurora Jenkins glanced at the nearly empty budget file the head of the tourist commission handed her. “You want me to spin gold out of straw, too?”
Shrugging his narrow shoulders at her disparaging words, Terry Talbert retreated to his desk so she didn’t tower over him. “We’re all volunteers here, Rora. We have a million-dollar grant, but no one with your financial expertise.”
No one else had her big mouth and opened it so frequently, she corrected, mentally kicking herself. She’d just been laid off from her lucrative bank position for opening her mouth one too many times. But this time, she’d done it for her family.
She could fix her career easily enough, but she was pinning her family’s future on the state park plan represented by this meager file. Volunteering her time and expertise had seemed the best means of getting on the inside track. Now it looked as if she would have the responsibility of making the park happen. No point endangering this golden opportunity by telling Terry he was a lazy bum.
Shouldering her bag, she slipped the file into it. “I’ll start with land acquisitions. Who’s this Thomas Clayton McCloud? I’ve never heard of him.” This was a small town and she’d grown up here. She thought she knew everyone.
“Some computer guru the mayor’s mother thinks is cute.” Terry grimaced in distaste. “You know how things get done around here.”
Yep, she did. She’d just landed this position because she’d been Terry’s high school lab partner. Networking, that was called in the city.
“And ‘cute’ will acquire the land how?” she asked. “With charming smiles and asking if we could have the beach, pretty please?”
Terry snorted. “Not from McCloud. He’s a surly bastard. Check him out. He’s usually sitting on the courthouse roof at this hour.”
Oh, good, surly bastards were right up her alley. A good fight to get the old adrenaline going, and she could put an end to the park right now. Keep the big mouth shut, Rora.
“Is it too soon to resign my commission?” Rolling her eyes but not giving back the file, Rory headed for the door. She’d accomplished more impossible feats than persuading budgets out of surly computer gurus who sat on courthouse roofs. Maybe not any quite so colorful though. The sophisticated city life she’d been leading paled in comparison.
“Don’t strangle him until you get the list of landowners out of him!” Terry called after her.
Once she had the list of heirs to that tract, the state could start purchasing land for the park. The sooner the island had a park, the sooner they could bring some tourist money in here to fill her family’s pockets, and she could be on her way again. Maybe she would take a job in Chicago this time. The skyline there was spectacular, and the culture and night life beat Charlotte’s by a country mile. A career move would be good for her.
Walking out of city hall, she nearly bumped into Jeff Spencer, the town banker, conversing with the elderly mayor. They both knew her but didn’t acknowledge her existence. Recognizing the attitude, she shrugged and stepped out of their way. She wasn’t rocking any more boats these days.
Breathing in the sweet scent of blooming jasmine, she glanced up the oak-lined street to her rural hometown’s only claim to a skyline. The gilding on the clock tower of the courthouse gleamed in the bright May sun.
Built shortly after the Civil War, the steepled courthouse was too small and dark to be effective for anything except record keeping, but they still used it for all their criminal proceedings. Not that a place this size had much more than a few drunk-and-disorderlies.
Given her father’s rowdy habits, Rory had been on the inside of the courthouse a few more times than she cared to recall—one of the many reasons the town’s substantial citizens ignored her.
Walking beneath live oaks trailing gray beards of Spanish moss, she studied the high-pitched roof of the city landmark, easily locating what appeared to be a half-naked Greek god perched at the peak, tampering with the clock’s internal mechanism. It looked to her like it would be easier to tackle the job from inside the tower, but who was she to argue with mechanical genius? Or Greek gods? His shoulders alone were awe-inspiring.
The clock never had run properly, not since the mayor’s daddy “fixed” it back during World War II, according to town legend. She kind of liked the fact that the clock always ran slow no matter how many times someone set it. It seemed to depict the town’s cautious attitude of living one step behind the times.
If McCloud looked as good up close as he did from down here, she’d be willing to climb up there and join him.
Obviously a victim of her sexless life, Rory shook her head at her voyeurism. She had enough complications in her life without adding a man to it. Someday her prince might come, but in the meantime she was perfectly happy building her own castles.
Emerging from the shade to stand on the courthouse lawn, she called up to him. “Thomas McCloud?” She wondered if her voice would carry that far. Climbing the ladder leaning against the side of the building wasn’t on her agenda for the morning.
Rory couldn’t tell whether it was her voice that caused him to halt what he was doing or if he’d just decided to take a drink. Either way, he slipped his screwdriver into a tool belt, picked up a bottle of water, and glanced downward through his expensive wraparound sunglasses.
Calling his name again, she waved at him to catch his attention.
From her view on the ground, Thomas McCloud could have doubled as a movie star—sun-bleached hair, slim hips, taut, tanned abdomen, and admirable pecs. And all attitude, she’d just about swear, waiting for the movie-star illusion to dispel the instant McCloud opened his mouth.
>
Shoving the aviator glasses into his thick, wavy hair, he lifted the water bottle in a salute, took a drink, set the bottle down on a ledge, and pulled his screwdriver out of his tool belt, completely ignoring her. Attitude. She’d known it. The good-looking ones were born with it.
“Thomas McCloud, I need to talk with you!” she shouted at him.
He carefully unscrewed one corner of the clock frame and dropped the screws into a pouch on his belt without once looking down.
She damned well didn’t intend to stand here screaming like a jay, making a spectacle of herself. The townspeople already thought little enough of her family without confirming their “trailer trash” reputation.
Rory marched around the courthouse and up the steps. She’d been the one who’d taught her classmates how to climb up into the tower.
She supposed a sensible person would have gone on to the next order of business and hoped to catch one Thomas Clayton McCloud in another time and place. But life had taught her that the timid got walked over and the stubborn got things done.
Besides, he’d ticked her off by ignoring her. She wouldn’t have accomplished as much as she had if she’d let people ignore her.
“How you doing, Elena?” Leaning on the counter in the DMV office, Rory greeted the file clerk who’d worked there for decades.
Sliding her purple-rimmed glasses on top of her gray hair, the clerk smiled a greeting. “Aurora, how good to see you!”
Rory waved her hand at the door partially hidden behind a bank of file cabinets. “I need to climb up there and talk to the clown on the roof. Is the staircase accessible these days?”
“He’s a sight to behold, isn’t he? If only I were thirty years younger.” Elena reached behind an antique wooden file cabinet and removed a key from a hook.
“I thought it was only the high school kids who sought attention by climbing up there.” Rory accepted the key and started around the counter.
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