Carolina Girl (9 page)

Or she could be fooling herself. She’d done that
before.

“I talked to some of the commissioners,” she
finally answered when he sat there without saying another word. “They
weren’t interested in hearing about environmental planning or limited
zoning or anything else unless it’s backed by money. I figured they might
listen if we were more than a few voices screaming into a vacuum.”

Clay nodded and sipped his steaming coffee. “From what
your friend said, you may get signatures, but you’re not likely to have
many voters on that petition.”

“It’s not a legal document. A petition
can’t change zoning. It just gives us a little popularity edge.”

“It also gives the bank and other interested parties
fair warning that trouble lies ahead.” He sipped his coffee and waited.

Rory winced. She hadn’t thought of that. She studied
the problem from all angles, then shook her head. “I can’t see how
it will matter unless someone wants to bribe us not to interfere. People on the
island would take the money and
still
sign the petition.”

His mouth quirked upward in one corner. “Okay,
I’ll buy that. But a petition won’t convince the commissioners if
they’re thinking of condos and property tax bases. Short of locating the
town’s missing World War Two cache, you can’t change things.”

She didn’t believe those old bar stories any more than
she believed fairy tales. Even if the town had lost some stolen German spy
hoard, no one could find it.

Setting the coffee aside, Rory rubbed her forehead.
She’d love to see a small grocery store on the island. It was a ten-mile
drive just to pick up food and medicine. In bad weather, that was a dangerous
mission. Decent housing was desperately needed. And Jeff had been right: She
did understand about the property tax base the county needed to improve
schools.

But big developers would bulldoze all the marshland and
woods without consideration of the needs of the people on the island.

She shook her head. “One good hurricane, and the
island really would sink if they pave all that land. I don’t understand
short-term thinking. Take the money now because tomorrow we die?”

There for a moment, she almost thought she saw Clay’s
eyes sparkle with approval at her sarcasm. He had disconcertingly light gray
eyes that contrasted with his bronze coloring, and long dark lashes that spared
his broad nose from harshness, giving him an almost approachable look.

He shattered the illusion by grinning. “Because we all
live on a yellow submarine?”

And here she thought she was having a rational conversation
with him for a change. She offered her innermost thoughts, and he
laughed
at her! Why did she even bother trying?

“Screw you, McCloud.” Standing, she heaved her
nearly full cup into a trash bin and stalked toward the boardwalk. She had too
many things to do to put up with that attitude.

He fell into step beside her without a hitch. “No
sense of humor. Do they suck it out of you in MBA school?”

“At a risk of repeating myself, screw you. I
don’t find anything laughable about my home.” She wished she could
outwalk him. She wished he’d just leave her alone and go away. What was
he getting out of this, anyway? It wasn’t as if he’d hang around
long enough to care.

Even after she left here, she’d care, wouldn’t
she? This was her home. She would stay in touch. He wouldn’t.

“Have you called the EPA yet or did you just putter
around making up pretty pieces of paper this weekend?” he asked.

Rory reacted to his insult rather than ponder her guilt if
she left the island for her career. “My mother taught me not to
hit,” she said calmly enough, not slowing down. “Cissy told me not
to hit anyone smaller than I am, which makes more sense. You’re not
smaller than me. Do they have a boxing ring at the gym or shall I just let you
have it right here?”

“I know I’m gonna regret this.” Clay took
a step ahead of her and stopped.

Rory almost ran him down, but he was too quick. Before she
could dodge, he’d grabbed her wrists and pulled them behind her, and they
were chest-to-chest, standing beneath the hooves of the statue of the
Confederate general’s horse.

She didn’t stand a chance. It wasn’t just
Clay’s iron- hard grip, although she couldn’t have escaped that if
she tried. The problem was that she didn’t want to try.

“You have the most amazing mouth,” he murmured,
not in a sensual whisper but with puzzlement. “It’s a wonder no one
has showed you how to keep it shut.”

Since that wasn’t precisely an invitation to
seduction, she didn’t guess his intent until Clay’s lips slanted
across hers. She almost melted into her shoes right then and there.

Oh, gad.
He was amazing in every way. His arms supported
her so her weakened knees didn’t collapse. His hard chest against her
breasts aroused and tantalized until she almost whimpered for more. And his
mouth! It didn’t tease but deliberately took and tasted and lingered and
made her feel as if he could have stood there all day just kissing her.

He made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world.
As if she were worth taking the time to learn, one seductive step at a time.
They were both breathless when a deliberate cough intruded, forcing them back
to the real world of staring passersby and snickering teenagers.

Still keeping his grip on Aurora, Clay glanced up and
glared, hoping to chase off whoever had turned off the best kiss he’d
ever shared. He didn’t want to let her go.

“It’s not even noon, little brother. Most people
who want to neck in public wait until dark.”

Clay contemplated popping Jared, then shoving him into the
nearest trash can for embarrassing Aurora. But before he could carry out either
action, Aurora jerked from his hands to crouch down beside the stroller Jared
was pushing.

“Oh, she’s adorable! What’s her name? Look
at those big brown eyes! Hi, sugar, did you get those eyes from your
daddy?”

Clay stared in incredulity as the uptight MBA in her
straitlaced business suit morphed into a cooing, sweet-talking, laughing
enchantress. Even Jared looked dazed as Aurora shed her suit jacket to give
Midge a better grip on the shell-and-crystal necklace plucking sunbeams from
the sky and arranging them around her neck—not to mention down a glorious
chest clad now in just the thinnest silk.

“Meet Aurora Jenkins,” Clay said dryly when she
completely ignored their presence in favor of the baby. He’d had his mind
bent and his ears blown out by that kiss, and she acted as if they’d
pecked each other’s cheeks.

Or maybe this was her way of hiding her embarrassment.

Feeling oddly proprietary at that thought, Clay crouched
down on the other side of the stroller. Letting Midge grip his finger, he
nodded upward at his brother. “That’s Jared, and this is Midge.
They belong to Cleo.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just part of the
stroller,” Jared commented from above, watching both of them with
curiosity. “And don’t let Cleo hear you calling her Midge. Her name
is Megan.”

Clay had a lot of practice ignoring his brother, but
Aurora’s cheeks were still pink, and she looked across the stroller at
him with uncertainty. “It’s okay,” he assured her.
“He’s nuts and doesn’t bite.”

She giggled at that. Actually giggled. Feeling as if
he’d climbed Mount Everest and discovered gold, Clay caught her elbow and
dragged her upward.

“Pleased to meet you, Jared,” she said in her
best business-polite manner. “You have a lovely daughter.”

“So did Mrs. Brown,” Clay muttered. He
didn’t know precisely how he felt now that she’d returned to normal,
but he didn’t mind standing at her elbow, looking down her enticing
cleavage while he figured it out.

“Does insanity run in the family?” she continued
without any change in her inflection.

Jared beamed. Clay cleared his throat and backed off.

“Not that we’ve noticed,” Jared claimed.
“Doubting Thomas simply doesn’t believe modern music matches the
golden age of oldies. Mrs. Brown’s lovely daughter refers to an English
tavern song from the sixties.”

“Of course, the classics, how foolish of me. I should
have known a man of intelligence and erudition wouldn’t listen to
anything else.”

Clay raised his gaze to the heavens and pursed his lips in a
whistle. Okay, she was getting even with him for her embarrassment. He was a
big boy. He could take it. He even got a cheap thrill out of it.

“Nah, he’s a genius with extremely bad taste in
music, that’s all.”

“Hence the fascination with the Blue Monkey. I
understand. The bar is full of geniuses. It was nice meeting you, Jared. If
you’re ever out our way, please stop by. My father makes a baby rabbit
statue that children adore.”

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Clay watched Aurora
fling her jacket over her shoulder and saunter off, swinging her hips
enticingly in the tight red skirt. A whistle inadvertently escaped his lips.

“I’m going to enjoy this, aren’t I?”
Jared asked rhetorically, not turning to watch Aurora but watching Clay
instead.

“Nope, but I might.” Without explanation or
farewell, he took off after her. Did she really think that after a kiss like
that he would simply disappear in a puff of smoke?

He probably ought to, his brain told him. He’d been
burned once by her type, and he wasn’t the kind of fool to get burned
again.

But this was the twenty-first century. He may have had his
head buried in a computer for the last quarter of a century, but he knew what
was happening out in the real world.

He didn’t have to propose marriage to have sex.

o0o

Aurora heard Clay behind her but didn’t turn around to
look. His kiss had scorched her clear down to the bottoms of her feet and
probably burned out a few brain cells as well. She couldn’t believe
they’d done that in clear view of the entire populace of the city,
including his brother and niece.
Gads!
Hadn’t she learned from her
mother and sister?

A brown hand shoved open the plate-glass door of
Katy’s restaurant before she could reach for it.

“I don’t need your help, McCloud,” she
muttered as they entered. She could tell the locals from the tourists by which
ones lifted their heads to see who’d come in. She nodded greetings at
several familiar faces, wending her way through the dinette tables without
stopping.

“You can’t send me up in flames and just walk
away like that,” he murmured, catching her elbow to slow her down.

“You can’t embarrass me in front of the entire
town and expect me to thank you for it!” She tugged her elbow free.

“You’re just as charming as I am, you know
that?” he said in his usual scalding tone.

Aurora glanced up at him incredulously, then swallowed a
laugh at his aggrieved expression. At least he was blaming himself as much as
her. “Back off, McCloud, you’re making a big mistake here.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” He grabbed
her heavy bag from her shoulder and slipped it over his. “This thing
weighs as much as the Rock of Gibraltar. What are you carrying in here? The
public library?” Rummaging around in the contents, he found her file
folder and produced a petition.

She was used to lugging the bag around, but she wasn’t
arguing if he wanted to play Macho Man. She was actually getting a kick out of
his attempts to stay on her good side. It had been a long while since a man had
spent time learning what she was about. “Give the lady the petition
without the commentary. I have work to do today.”

The tall waitress behind the counter wiped her hands on her
apron and waited expectantly. Clay bent past a row of counter stools to hand
her the petition. “Cleo said you might keep this by the cash register and
help us get some signatures.”

The waitress grinned broadly, didn’t take the
petition, and waited. Clay squirmed. He shot Aurora a frustrated look.
Understanding that McCloud had given Stella his bad-boy treatment, and the
waitress intended to make him grovel, Rory contemplated letting her. But she
didn’t have enough time on her hands for games. And she didn’t
think Clay was good at groveling.

“It’s okay, Stella. I’m cutting him off at
the ankles. I need to pass a few more of these around this morning, so if you
want to take a jab at him, let’s do it now and move on.”

Stella delicately accepted the petition between two fingers.
“Whaddayuh say, McCloud?”

He growled. He scowled. He shoved his hands in his pockets
and copped a biker stance. With Aurora’s bag over his shoulder, the
effect was lost. Stella grinned more broadly.

“Please,” he muttered. “If you want to
save the sea turtles.”

“Why do I want to save turtles?” Stella waved
the petition tauntingly.

Aurora knew half the people in the café were watching, but
Clay didn’t seem particularly concerned about that. He simply
didn’t know how to bend a little. She elbowed him out of the way.
“You want to save Cleo and me and Cissy and Grandma Iris and the
sweetgrass baskets.” She pulled another paper out of the bag over
Clay’s shoulder. “Here’s one for Katy. She can put it in the B-and-B.
Fry up a burger for Cleo and we’ll be back to pick it up.”

Catching Clay’s elbow, she swung him around and
marched him past the sea of staring faces, leaving Stella to do as she wished
with the petition.

“I knew there was a reason so many people prefer
computers to real life.” He removed his arm from her grip as they reached
the sidewalk.

“Because computers are mindless slaves that
don’t talk back?” She tried to retrieve her shoulder bag but he
stubbornly held on to it. Brown leather and large, it looked more like a
backpack than a woman’s purse, but it still didn’t look natural on
his denim-covered shoulder. “Look, this will be faster if we split up.
Take a handful of the petitions and hit your favorite haunts, and I’ll
hit mine.”