Chapter 36
"This is insane," Tim muttered as he nailed the last piece of paraphernalia to an ornate wooden molding near the ceiling.
"Tell me something I don't know." Climbing down from her ladder, Cleo glanced around the two-story foyer of the enormous McCloud Long Island mansion. If she'd thought she'd been right about letting Jared go before, she was firmly convinced now.
The McCloud family home reeked to high heaven of old money and aristocratic lineages. She could gag on the high-falutin' atmosphere in here. Even the Christmas tree had prissy white doves and angels instead of flashing colored lights. She bet they were all made by Lalique and trimmed in fourteen-karat gold. Her methods of decoration were guaranteed to drive Jared's uptight parents into hysteria.
She dropped the neck chain bearing an emerald ring beneath the neckline of her tunic. It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed to take this step out of her self-imposed isolation and face the terrifying consequences of emotional involvement. She didn't have to tattoo her heart on her sleeve while she was at it.
"You're planning on this blowing up in your face, aren't you?" Tim's brother accused as he folded up his ladder and frowned upward at the foyer's newest embellishments. He didn't seem particularly worried about going down as her accomplice.
Cleo crossed her arms. "Self-destruction is what I do best."
He shot her a wary look. "That's not a particularly heroic attitude."
She laughed shortly. "You're telling me that comic heroes leaping in front of speeding bullets aren't self-destructive?"
"Mommy," Matty shouted in glee from upstairs. "Look at the reindeer!"
Cleo glanced at her tormentor. Jared's brother deserved his place in hell for dragging her on an airplane and bringing her up here, but he'd been a good sport about taking along her eccentric decorations and sneaking her into the house at her request. It was a bit difficult to read past his impassive expression, but she had a nagging feeling that he wouldn't have taken no for an answer any more than Jared.
At her questioning look, TJ shrugged. "Jared rigged up toy reindeer so they dance. He doesn't have your flare with the mechanical, but one has a flashing red nose. Mother hyperventilated and banished them to the nursery."
The nursery. The blamed mansion had a nursery. "I'd better see what he's up to. Do I need a map to get there?"
He studied her for a moment, and Cleo nervously brushed glitter off her deep green tunic, then ran her hand through her hair to see if it had fallen flat or something. She didn't belong here. She was so totally out of place that she was amazed the house didn't spit her out like bad meat, and Jared's brother had a way of disturbing her more than a fed could.
"Jared will be here any minute," he finally said. "Unless you're having second thoughts and want to hide, you'd better stay put."
Terror did a step dance in her stomach, but she nodded. "Go away," she answered grimly, hearing the sound of a car purring to a halt in the drive.
Hearing the car at the same time, Tim grabbed their ladders and disappeared into the nether regions of the mansion. She'd been mad to think she could get away with this. Knowing her twisted mind, she'd probably thought she'd be caught before she carried it off.
Jared's damned brother, on the other hand, seemed to be an expert on covert actions. He'd pulled off the whole thing with an inexorable timing that bordered on dangerous. She'd hate to have him for an enemy.
A car door slammed. She tugged her tunic down over her leggings and wished she'd worn something more upscale. At the time she'd bought these, she'd thought velvet was upscale.
Her gaze swung frantically to the door as someone inserted a key. She could hide— Nahh. She was here to prove a point.
The door swung open to her tape of Silver Bells played by the church bell choir. Garbed in leather jacket and looking taller and more handsome than ever, Jared halted in the doorway as a reindeer-racing Santa streaked past his face, flinging glitter behind him.
"Ultra-rad." He admired the Santa speculatively as it flew back across the foyer like clockwork.
Frozen, Cleo fixed her gaze on the heart-stopping sight of Jared's broad shoulders filling out a battered bomber jacket. With his face carved into interesting angles and planes, he looked more artistic and distant than she remembered. He'd let his hair grow, and rather than mess with it, he'd apparently pulled it back in a rubber band. Still, he couldn't disguise his cool competence and knowing eyes as he calculated Santa's arc in order to step past him. Wearing a hand-knitted fishermen's sweater beneath his jacket, he stuck his hand into the pocket of elegantly tailored wool slacks, and transferred his gaze from the chortling Santa to Cleo.
"Assault by glitter?" he asked impassively as Santa sparkled his hair with red and green and silver.
Terror filled her at his lack of reaction. This wasn't the man she remembered. Had TJ been wrong? Had she lost Jared with her recalcitrance? Had she really thought he'd always be there for her, even when she was behaving like a stupid cow?
Not if she knew Jared. She'd hurt him, and he was being wary. Somehow, she had to reach out and show him she had the strength to love him back—that she might be whole enough to love him as he should be loved. Heart in throat and hope pulsing, Cleo stepped backward, into the doorway she'd just finished decorating. "I don't do 'No Trespassing' signs anymore. Consider yourself showered with welcome," she said cautiously, trying not to hold her breath.
His dark eyes lit with an unholy gleam as he regarded the spinning disco globe of mistletoe and her placement under it. "Even if it's rigged to explode, I still like your style."
"I'm the one likely to explode," she said darkly, watching him in exasperation.
His eyebrows quirked and a slow smile transformed his lean face as he got the message. "You've come to rescue me from purgatory?"
She widened her eyes at this description of his self-imposed exile, but she nodded agreement. "Yeah, maybe."
Crossing the gleaming parquet of the foyer in three strides, Jared swung her into his arms and captured her mouth with his.
She couldn't breathe, didn't dare breathe for fear she dreamed the fantasy of Jared's welcoming arms hugging her, the bristles of his beard rubbing her cheeks, the heated hunger of desire on his tongue. She dug her fingers into the leather of his jacket, clinging for dear life as her head spun like a Christmas top.
He kissed her until both their heads spun, or the insanely flashing strobe light from the spinning mistletoe made them dizzy.
Laughing, Jared stumbled, and broke the kiss rather than fall over.
Filled with the bliss of knowing Cleo actually cared enough to abandon her personal prison for him, he swung her in a circle with more glee than he'd felt since he'd been six and discovered a walking, talking robot under the tree.
When he finally returned her to her feet, she nervously tugged on a gold chain at her throat, a chain bearing his ring, he noted smugly. Needing to touch, he ran his hand through the glimmering red of her... curls? He glanced down to verify this fascinating phenomenon. She glared back, and his tension melted away. All was well with his world when Cleo glared. He knew how to make her really smolder.
He sobered quickly as he read the uncertainty in her gaze. "Are you ready to admit I'm man enough to handle you and your life?" he asked. Too many people had underestimated him for too long. He needed Cleo to believe in him.
"Put that way..." She slid her hand into his and studied him through troubled eyes. "I don't doubt your abilities to leap tall buildings in a single bound. It's me that's the problem."
"Not from my viewpoint, Cleo." Jared clasped the ring and held it up between them. "From where I stand, you're almost perfect."
"Almost perfect?" A child's wonder crossed her face before she narrowed her eyes in disbelief again. "I'll never be perfect."
"Yeah, that's the good part. I don't have to live up to you and be perfect either. I promise, I won't stop loving you if you throw pinecones at me or wear your porcupine shirt.
Would you give up on me if I lost my job or my money?"
"I might consider it if you lost your mind. I'm kind of fond of fractured brains." She tried to tug the necklace back, but more confident now, he wouldn't let go. She quit fighting and stood there staring at him, looking lost and vulnerable. "But how would I know if you lost it? You're already crazy."
A grin tugged the corner of his mouth as he recognized her dilemma. She simply couldn't admit she was soft putty at heart. "You don't want to say it, do you?" he taunted. "It's killing you to admit you feel anything. I love you, Cleo." He backed her up against the door frame. "I'm gonna love you until the end of time."
He kissed her temple and wrapped her curls around his fingers. "I'm gonna show up on your doorstep night and day if you don't admit you love me. I'll sing serenades beneath your window. I'll camp on your beach." He planted another kiss beneath her earlobe and was rewarded with a gasp.
"You have all this," she said in bewilderment, drawing reluctantly away to gesture at their elegant surroundings. "You have more talent in your little finger than I'll ever have in my whole life. Why would you want me holding you back?"
He sobered and dropped the necklace to stroke her pale cheek. "You still don't understand, do you?" No longer hidden behind tinted glasses, her eyes studied him with wariness and a prayer, waiting for the reassurances that he willingly gave.
Maybe he hadn't done it right the first time. For a moment, he feared he wouldn't do it right again.
"You freed me, Cleo," he murmured, touching her, for he couldn't not touch her, not while she was finally here, the best gift he'd ever been given. He repeated her gesture to indicate their surroundings. "All this traps me behind the iron bars of expectations. I'm not allowed to fail. I can't explore new paths, try new things, for fear that I won't live up to my success, but I can be Jared McCloud, comic artist, only so long. Then I'm expected to climb higher, become Jared McCloud, screenwriter, Jared McCloud, director, producer, superstar, whatever. I have to follow the road someone else tells me to follow." His hand slipped away, but he held her gaze. "I want to choose my own road."
The hunger flaring in her eyes showed she understood. "I'm a badly beaten path," she murmured in protest.
"A beautiful, unexplored jungle," he countered, relaxing now that they were both on the same wavelength. "But you won't expect me to be Tarzan or to mow down the jungle and create palaces. You'll let me run the beach, and inspire me to create new worlds, and you won't complain if those worlds don't suit your image of profitable."
She shot him a look of scorn. "Your talent should be for the good of all, not just the good of someone's wallet. Even I can see that. Tim showed me your film. It's good, Jared. Don't you dare give up that kind of work because it won't make millions."
"My damned spy of a brother must have stolen a copy, but I'll forgive him—this time." Love lightened his heart, and he smiled. "Cleo, my knight in battered armor, I don't need you to rescue me—or sacrifice yourself for my sake. Not any more than you need a superhero to sacrifice himself for you. That's not what love is about. Couldn't we just amble along the yellow brick road together and see where it takes us?"
"Only if I can be the tin man." Enhanced by the emerald of her velvet tunic, Cleo's eyes began to gleam with amusement and—he hoped—with a little more freedom from the heavy burdens love had laid on her shoulders in the past.
"You have a heart, idiot," he reminded her. "You just need to quit sitting on it." Gently, Jared unclasped her necklace, removed the ring, and taking her hand in his, slipped the emerald on her finger. "Tell me yes, Cleo. Don't make me beg."
Provocatively, she slipped a finger between her lips, tilted her head, and studied him. "I don't think I'll ever be one of the self-indulgent rich. You aren't planning on being rich, are you?"
Jared grabbed a fistful of luscious curls, wishing he could kiss her until they fell into bed and woke up married. "Depends," he answered warily. "I just sold the film for a hefty advance and nice percentage of everything, but there's this foundation I want to fund for teenagers from dysfunctional homes..."
Her smile relaxed into a look of love so heart rending that he almost hauled her into his arms and carried her up the stairs right there and then.
"Like, you know anything about dysfunctional," she scoffed, sliding her hands beneath his jacket collar and circling his neck.
"You could teach me," he promised. "And I'll tell you I love you before I murder you. Is that sufficiently dysfunctional?"
"Only if you remember I love you when I'm screaming at you," she agreed, kissing his cheek.
"You won't scream at me. You'll be too busy purring." Jared covered Cleo's mouth with his, and she did. Purr.
Damn, but his life had just taken a comic book turn for the better.
Epilogue
Fourth of July, South Carolina
A roar of delight resounded over the gentle lapping of tide as the flames of a bonfire ignited to sear the night sky. A straw caricature of a pirate cackled and attempted to jump the blaze, only to explode into a dozen red and gold firework stars to the sound of laughter. Unable to resist a publicly sanctioned riot, teenagers laughingly raced down the beach, setting off firecrackers to add to the tumult.
Watching two of the teens roll to the sand in a wrestling match, Jared caught Cleo's shoulder and prevented her rising from the blanket. "He's fine, Cleo. Boys let out their energies in more physical ways than girls."
"Their testosterone, you mean," she replied, curling her legs back under her again. With a sigh, she relaxed her stiff stance and rested her head against his shoulder when he wrapped his arm around her. "I suppose it's a fair trade. Kismet is so easy, Gene has to balance it out."
Jared chuckled. "If you think Kismet is easy, you can have her. That girl has a mind of her own and there's no moving her once she's made it up. Once she heard about that art school, she's been determined to get into it, even though I told her she really needs a college degree and that drawing dragons doesn't guarantee her a job."
Cleo shrugged. "Give her knowledge, and she'll find her own way." She glanced at a shadow emerging from the wooded path at the far end of the beach. "It would help both of them if Linda stayed clean for a while."
Jared watched Linda's uncertain gait stumble across the sand in their direction. Heels, he decided, not alcohol. "I can't believe they let her out already. I'd have kept her locked up until the kids are grown."
"You'd have kept me locked up until Matty was grown?" she countered. "That's helpful. It's a disease, McCloud, a sickness. It needs treatment and support and understanding, and yeah, I want to slap her around, too, but it's a waste of energy."
She pulled from Jared's grasp and stood up to meet Linda half way. Unable to let her face her demons alone, Jared loped after her, hovering just beyond Cleo's shoulder as the two women met on the outskirts of the party.
"They said I could see my kids," Linda said without preamble. "I just wanta know they're okay." She glanced somewhat wistfully toward the laughing crowd around the bonfire. "But I guess they're too busy to see me right now."
"They'll know you're here. Teenagers prefer to pretend their parents don't exist in public, but they like knowing you care enough to check on them. Are you taking that job the plumbing company offered?"
Nervously opening and closing her fingers, watching the antics around the fire rather than face Cleo, Linda nodded. "They said they'd send me to computer class."
Jared waited for her to thank Cleo for talking the plumbing company into risking their time and money on a loser, but Linda didn't broach the subject. Maybe it was understood between the two of them. He'd never fathom women. He'd thought he'd understood when he was younger, but he was older and wiser now. He didn't know a damned thing.
"Did the caseworker tell you how soon you can have the kids back?"
Linda ran her hand through her newly shorn hair and nodded. "If I stay on the job and keep clean for the next six weeks, I can have them on week
ends. They're not taking any chances."
Jared damned well hoped they weren't. If Billy-Bob Pervert hadn't been sent up for a dozen years, he'd have personally gone into social services and had the kids removed from the county. Despite her cynicism, Cleo wanted to give everyone a second and third chance. He loved Cleo's generous spirit, but he'd developed a strong need to protect the innocent since encountering her and her choice of friends. He stroked the nape of her neck now as she shifted uncomfortably, uncertain of what to say next.
"Look who's coming down the road." Jared nodded toward a stout figure striding across the bridge they'd erected over the sheriff's excavations in the dune. "Linda, you might want to find yourself something to eat over at the tables. Our legal beagle just arrived."
Linda glanced nervously at the portly lawyer and sidled away. Jared continued to massage Cleo's neck as she stiffened up again. "Easy, kid. He's on your side, remember? I can't believe you argued with him over his bill after he got the feds off your case. He made you a free woman."
"Yeah, just as I was getting kinda fond of writing insults in my journal. I'll miss that creep counselor. Now I've got to find new ways to get my jollies. Look, he's not even coming over here. He's heading right for Axell and Maya."
"I can't imagine why." Jared led her back toward the blanket. He had other plans for this evening, and talking to obnoxious lawyers wasn't one of them. "How could he resist getting his head bit off by my acid-tongued wife instead of schmoozing with a woman who laughs at his jokes, pats his arm, and floats away?"
Cleo punched his arm, and Jared caught her in a choke hold so he could plant a kiss on her forehead. She stood on tip-toe and bending backward, gave him an upside-down kiss. This was more like it. He turned her around to do this from a better angle, but a dry voice interrupted his best intentions.
"I took a look at the bones that have been uncovered so far," Tim said in his usual no-nonsense manner, waiting until he had their attentions before continuing. "I want to head an exploratory study on that site. I don't think it's a settler's gravesite."
Imperfect Rebel Page 30
