Carolina Girl (32 page)

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 worthless
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.

“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?