A blush rose to her cheeks, and Rory hurriedly turned to greet their guests. Clay’s attractive sister-in-law widened her eyes with interest, while his brother’s narrowed, she noted. TJ looked just like Clay when he did that, although his hair was darker, his nose more prominent, and his face more rugged than striking.
“Hi, I’m Mara Simon,” their willowy guest introduced herself. “And this is TJ. McClouds don’t believe in introductions, maybe because they don’t think they need any?” Appropriating her husband’s arm in almost the same gesture Rory had used, she steered him up the garden path to the patio door.
“I’m Aurora Jenkins. Come in, there’s still a piece of pie left if you want to get even, or I’ll direct you to the bathroom so you can fix your hair. I think he missed the rest of you.”
“We’re standing right here, you realize?” Clay asked, not moving from his position while Rora and Mara exchanged pleasantries.
“Yeah, but if you remain silent, we can pretend you’re invisible.” Tugging, Rory toppled him back a step so Mara could enter. “This is my sister, Sandra. We don’t bite, even if Clay does.”
Stepping up, TJ nearly filled the open doorway. He surveyed the interior, Aurora, and Cissy, before letting his wife out of his sight. Apparently unfazed by his protectiveness, Mara greeted Cissy and strolled down the hall with her, her hips swaying in rhythm with her blithe chatter.
“Iced tea, Mr. McCloud?” Slightly nervous before Clay’s intimidating older brother, Aurora fell back on her upbringing.
“Call me TJ, please, and water will be fine. Excuse our intrusion. We really did want to see the fountains, contrary to what Clay may have led you to believe.”
If Clay managed to fill the low-ceilinged room with his presence, TJ overwhelmed it. Rory busied herself with glasses and ice and keeping an eye on Clay’s inscrutable expression for guidance. Stupid of her, but she had this unreasonable urge to defend him, as if he needed it.
Or was she feeling defensive because she feared TJ would scorn Clay’s choice in befriending her and her family? Maybe that was why Clay resented his brother’s interference.
If she judged on appearances, she’d say Clay’s family came from a much more sophisticated, wealthier world than hers. Of course, ex-millionaires usually did. She’d never see him as a beach bum again.
“I told you, the fire destroyed the paint and there’s nothing for Mara to see except concrete.” Clay closed the patio door and accepted the glass Rory handed him.
“And Jared told me Miss Jenkins’s car may have been deliberately driven off the road to cause the fire, and that your place has been broken into. Having been through this once with the locals, I thought I might be able to add my expertise in finding the culprits,” TJ replied patiently.
“Ah, now I see the reason for the pie. Clay didn’t ask for your help, did he?” Rory handed a glass to TJ, but instead of politely retreating, she stared Clay’s brother in the eye, even if she had to tilt her head up to do so. She’d had about all she could take of superior attitudes, even from the family of a friend. “It’s generous of you to offer, but you’re overlooking the fact that I am one of the locals. If anyone has any expertise here, it’s me and Cissy.”
“There’s no point arguing,” Clay said, pulling her out of his brother’s face. “He doesn’t mean to be insulting. It’s just that TJ’s goal in life is to interfere.”
“Cleo tells me that if TJ hadn’t interfered with her, she and Jared might not be married now,” Mara said, emerging from the hallway bathroom. “Interference is a good thing, even if you macho McClouds don’t get it.”
With a shrug, Clay took a stool at the counter and tugged Rory back between his knees. “If we promise not to set any more fires or report any break-ins, he might go away. I’d like to eat my pie before it melts.”
TJ lifted an eyebrow in a gesture all too like his brother’s. “He’s eating pie? In the middle of the day? How did you pry him away from the computer long enough?” His gaze drifted to the front room where both computers were flashing screen savers, Clay’s with photo images from Star Wars, Rory’s with dollar signs and a bank logo.
Clay reached behind him and stabbed his pie with a fork, savoring the bite while Rory scrambled for a suitable reply to a question she didn’t quite understand. “Don’t most people eat during the day? Pie isn’t totally unreasonable, is it?”
“Clay doesn’t eat,” Mara explained. “He’s been known to forget to eat while an entire dinner sits before him. His idea of nourishment is beer and fries in front of a computer.” She cocked her head and eyed the forkful of pie entering Clay’s mouth. “Looks like you’ve found a way to his stomach, but I have a sneaking suspicion the way to Clay’s heart is through his insatiable brain. Knock him over the head and see what happens.”
Rory laughed, until Clay stuck a forkful of pie into her mouth, and she almost spit it out her nose.
Cissy collapsed on the couch and roared. Unable to resist her mirth, TJ and Mara grinned.
Shrugging, Clay took his pie outside and went looking for Jake, leaving the others to dissect his behavior without him.
o0o
“You mean you won a million dollars, and you’re investing it all in Clay? A million dollars?”
Rory clutched her coffee cup and sat paralyzed in front of the computer screen. Mara McCloud’s utter surprise struck at the heart of Aurora’s worst fears. She had been given one chance to ensure her family’s future, and she was gambling the entire thing on a man who made her heart go pitter-pat. Gambling it.
Her stomach knotted, her brain froze, and fear washed over her with the force of a tidal wave. Bankruptcy loomed one step away if their venture failed.
She finally conquered her immobility long enough to glance at Clay. He’d been working on the recalcitrant toaster again, but he’d apparently heard enough to look in her direction. His stark features revealed nothing of his thoughts. A curl of untamed hair fell across a line puckering his wide forehead, his gray eyes met hers steadily, and reassurance flooded through her. He might have his eccentric methods, but she believed in him.
“We paid the outstanding bills first,” she said with an insouciance she didn’t feel. “I can find a job anywhere, so we’re no worse off than we were if it doesn’t work out.” Well, Cissy wouldn’t have a job, Pops would have no insurance, they would still have a mortgage, and Mandy would have to work to put herself through school. They’d weathered worse.
They’d never weathered enemies who indulged in bodily harm and breaking and entering. She was clinging to the hope that the black car had been an accident and curious kids had invaded Clay’s home.
She’d wanted to secure her family’s future, not endanger it.
Letting the flicker of appreciation in Clay’s eyes bolster her flagging confidence, Rory shoved aside her doubts, pointed out the error Cissy had made in the bookkeeping program, and returned to the kitchen to taste the simmering gumbo.
Clay set the toaster on the counter, plugged it in, and tested it. Satisfied with the result, he leaned over her shoulder to inspect the gumbo. She was dying to have his arms around her waist, his mouth nuzzling her ear, all those intimate things men and women did together when they were a couple.
But they weren’t and he didn’t, especially with family looking on. Officially, theirs was a business relationship. She’d best remember that. It wasn’t as if they’d discussed what kind of relationship they had. Or wanted. If they wanted one at all. She was a little confused on that point.
“What are you planning on doing with a swamp?” TJ asked with interest. “That’s the land neighboring Cleo’s, isn’t it?”
“It stretches from here to there, yes. The state wants to build a park on the beach. We want to build offices for Clay’s studio and a crafts village for local artisans along the highway. The rest we’d like to preserve as it is.”
“And that’s where the bad guys come in, isn’t it?” TJ asked. “Someone thinks they can turn worthle
ss wetlands into a contractor’s heaven and make billions, and you’re in their way.”
Aurora exchanged a glance with Clay and knew he believed that, too. “No one knows or cares about this place but the locals,” she protested.
“And the town doesn’t have a bank or a realty company or a contractor who stands to make their fortune on rich homeowners?” TJ asked dryly.
“I can’t believe anyone we know would hurt us!” But even as she said it, Aurora knew the answer to that. People hurt other people all the time.
And most often, it was the people closest to a person doing the hurting.
Chapter Twenty-three
“Welcome, Aurora, Clayton,” Grandma Iris said with dignity, gesturing for them to enter the crowded cabin. “We’re all here, even that worthless Billy.”
Clay stepped into the June heat of the airless room, uncertainty and a modicum of unease churning his gut as he scanned a sea of expectant faces. After a week of intense planning, this morning they’d finished negotiating the investment from the retired venture capitalist. They had money in the bank and serious prospects of more to come.
It was up to the Binghams to decide how it would all fall out.
So far there had been no further incidents of break-ins or accidents, although TJ had insisted on talking to all the suspects: the banks, the Realtors, and any unfortunate developer who crossed his path. Or perhaps nothing had happened because TJ had talked to them, and terrified the shit out of them. Clay let his brother amuse himself as he wished. He’d spent his time pulling together a product that could make this meeting happen.
He told himself abstinence was good for productivity, but he’d have to work twenty-four-seven and keel over dead before he could be rid of his hunger for Aurora. He had hopes that a successful conclusion to this meeting would lead to another of her celebrations, and this time she would choose him instead of chocolate.
Looking around at the cabin full of anxious faces, Clay knew his list of Binghams had produced this deputation of representatives from all across the country. On his own, he wouldn’t have a clue how to address them.
Aurora didn’t seem to have that problem. She spoke with those few she knew, shook hands with the ones to whom she was introduced, relaxed the crowd so they returned to sipping their drinks and fanning themselves while the inevitable southern small talk swirled around the room. Clay was ready to burst his seams with the impatience he’d accused Aurora of possessing, but he admired her ability to handle people.
He didn’t catch the moment the socializing switched to serious business. He just watched expressions turn intent and gazes focus on Aurora while she spoke with a tall, elderly gentleman. Despite the warmth, the man wore a suit jacket that hung loosely on his spare frame. Silver curls cut close to his dark head gave away his age, but his gaze was alert and perceptive as Aurora explained their plans.
“The land would remain ours?” he demanded.
“The land would belong to the nonprofit trust, but the heirs would own the controlling interest,” Aurora corrected. “Only, the way the trust is set up, the majority of the wetlands would have to remain undeveloped.”
“We’d be giving up millions!” a rotund middle-aged man protested.
Clay had already noted that this was the notorious Billy, the one who had already signed an agreement to sell out his family.
“You sold your share for five thousand,” Aurora reminded him. “You’ve already given up your rights. If the developers take your contract to court, they’ll force an auction of the entire property. As things stand now, the only buyer will be the developer who already owns your share. Without the nonprofit trust to bid against him, how much do you think he will pay?”
The tall man answered for everyone. “A dollar an acre. I’ve seen it happen.”
A murmur rippled around the room, and the knot in Clay’s gut loosened. They were going to make this work. Now all he had to do was see that “Mysterious” earned money. He’d done it once, but that had been for fun. Could he do it this time for Aurora and a community of trusting people?
And now that they had the developer against the wall, how would he strike back?
o0o
“Do you think we could sic TJ on the zoning commission and terrify them into granting our request?” Rory murmured as she and Clay walked the trail to the turtle nesting area after leaving the Bingham heirs to talk among themselves. The stars were already out, and they’d drenched themselves in insect repellent for the excursion.
“Not unless the members of the commission are criminals. TJ’s intense, but his focus is pretty narrow.”
“Unlike you,” she added with a knowing chuckle.
“Is that sarcasm I hear from Miss Uptight herself?” Clay offered his hand to help her over a fallen oak propped high off the ground by its branches. “I’ll have you know I have other interests. I’m learning all about turtles.”
“So you can put them in another game,” she responded. “Just like your ‘other’ interest in L.A. was ‘Mysterious’ when you weren’t working on business programs.”
“I had a girlfriend,” he argued. “We went out.”
“To restaurants. To discuss business. Did you ever go dancing? Watch sunsets? Meet her family?”
Rory took the seat Clay found for her between the vine-covered branches of the tree. This discussion had wandered a little farther down personal paths than she had intended, but now that they were there, she wanted to hear his answers.
They’d spent a truly intense two weeks working on their business partnership. There hadn’t been time, or privacy, for their personal one, but now that things were in motion, she wanted to know where she stood.
She longed for more of what they’d shared in Charleston, but she wasn’t good at casual sex. And she didn’t see how they could ever have anything else. Clay lived so far inside his head that he had trouble relating to family, and she had so much family inside her head, she had trouble thinking beyond their needs. Her career was all wrapped up in that somewhere. She didn’t even know if Clay wanted a career or if he was just going along with her for lack of anything better to do. Maybe she was just another form of clock for him to tinker with.
Clay settled behind her, snuggling her against his chest and crotch, wrapping his arms around her waist as if they did this every day. His touch could settle all her doubts—until he got up and walked away, leaving her alone and wondering again.
She wasn’t cut out for this. Relationships made her crazy. Maybe that was why she was so bad at them.
“Okay, so Diane is a bad example,” he admitted. “I’m not much into socializing. I don’t have the same kind of interests as most people. I don’t seem to think like everyone else, and I just end up confusing them.”
He was trying to tell her something. She wanted to understand, but it sounded very much as if he were saying he didn’t want people around him. And she loved having people around.
“So you do everything yourself,” she translated. “You don’t want anyone else distributing your programs, and you don’t want to get involved with any one person, and you don’t want to commit to any one place. You think no one understands you, so you drive a Harley and live like a hermit, like some stereotypical James Dean.”
She understood, she thought, but she didn’t like realizing why. She’d gone off on her own career, leaving her family behind. She had had her own empty apartment and her own empty car. Clay just carried his isolation a little further because his family didn’t need him as hers did.
“I don’t get the connection,” he said in bafflement. “I told you I don’t think like other people. I’m living here because I don’t like L.A. I’m riding a Harley because I don’t want people judging me by my wheels.”
“You just defined yourself by what you don’t want,” she insisted. “How will you ever know where you’re going if you’re only looking back to where you’ve been? What do you want to do?” She shouldn’t be going there herself. Talk about
the pot calling the kettle black.
But if he could reassure her somehow, tell her what she needed to hear... Digging the hole deeper, she continued. “Where do you see yourself in the future? How are you planning on getting there if you shut everyone and everything out by thinking in terms of what you don’t want?”
He sat silent for a moment, digesting this. “Okay, maybe I’m bad at the relationship thing. I’m open to learning. What do you suggest?”
He started nibbling on her neck, so Rory assumed he was merely being agreeable for her sake. Clay’s brand of agreeable was downright addictive. She leaned back against him, encouraging his hand to stray higher. But they had issues here, and they were both avoiding them. “I suggest that sex is not the same thing as a relationship.”
Oops. She hadn’t really meant to say that, especially when his fingers instantly stopped their incredible massaging. Her nipples had already reached extreme sensitization, and she was ready for anything. Except stopping.
“I thought the sex was good.”
Was that hurt she heard behind his gruff words? Surely she didn’t have the power to wound a man granted every favor nature provided? “The sex is beyond good, and you know it.”
“Okay.” He hesitated, apparently uncertain where to hold her now. “If women don’t want sex, then what do they want?”
“Lovemaking.” She knew the answer, but she held her breath as she awaited his reaction. Love was not a word that most men wanted to hear. They seemed to think it was synonymous with prison bars. He’d jokingly used the song “Love Me Do” in his e-mail, but that was just his weird method of communication, wasn’t it?
“Lovemaking isn’t the same as sex?” he replied in surprise.
She almost giggled at his tone. Relaxing, she returned his hand to her breast. “That may depend on the participants’ intentions. Women like sex well enough, although I hadn’t realized how good it could be until you came along.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” His voice was bone dry against her ear. “So now that you have me where you want me, what do you want out of me?”
Carolina Girl Page 24
