McCloud's Woman (9 page)

In answer to her question, half a dozen church bells tolled the ten o’clock hour.

She wondered if churches served espresso with their donuts. But her mixed ethnic background didn’t include white-bread Baptist.

Maybe the mini-mart would have newspapers.

Sailboats bobbed on the gently lapping water, a gull
screamed overhead, and Mara tried to pretend she was on a beach vacation
at the Jersey shore. But dammit, they had a Starbucks there.

The guy with Nascar tattoos and a chew of tobacco in his
cheek manning the counter of the minimart didn’t faze her, but the lack
of anything resembling a newsstand did. Racks of car and beauty
magazines filled the one shelf allotted to reading material. Bubble gum,
plastic junk food, and toiletries dominated the rest. Not an espresso
machine in sight, although one counter boasted every soft drink and
juice known to mankind, plus a Mr. Coffee. Not quite what she had in
mind.

Krispy Kremes! She grabbed a box of the sticky doughnuts, unburied a week-old
People
magazine, and flung them on the counter.

“They’re two days old,” a male voice said behind her. TJ.

She whipped around at the crackle of fresh newsprint as
much as at the sound of his voice. She enviously eyed the thick, crisp
bundle under his arm. She could almost smell the
Times
. “Where did you get that?”

TJ shrugged and set his cup of steaming coffee down on the
counter. “Bookstore around the corner orders it for me. They leave it
in the box so I can pick it up if the store isn’t open.”

She must have eyed it so hungrily that even an obtuse male like TJ could read her expression.

Warily, he offered a peek at the front page. “Want to share?”

“I don’t suppose you have an espresso machine?” she almost
whimpered, ignoring the headlines and gazing longingly at the middle
section of the paper with the books and entertainment news.

“Jared has one,” he answered hesitantly.

Mara didn’t know whether to beg like a puppy or do her
starlet flirt to persuade him. She didn’t feel like a starlet this
morning. She felt like a curmudgeonly New Yorker deprived of her
caffeine-and-newspaper fix.

She lifted a hopeful gaze to the full impact of TJ’s smoky
one and nearly forgot what it was she wanted from him. Gad, it was a
miracle the man didn’t explode from all the fire smoldering behind those
thick lashes. The restraint excited her as much as the hidden emotions
behind it. What would it take to unlock his chains?

Even thinking of undoing TJ McCloud was living dangerously.

He picked up the Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee and
handed it to her. “Here, take the edge off while I pick up some milk and
eggs for Cleo.”

He’d understood! Coffee and newspapers—that’s what she wanted. All she wanted.

Well, maybe she’d also like to have a man who understood
her, but she wasn’t in the market for a man right now. She had enough of
them interfering in her life already.

She paid for her purchases and gratefully sipped the hot
brew while TJ completed his errand. Her adolescent fantasies had always
pictured her high school champion in jungles, battling boa constrictors
in the jungle or standing like a stalwart knight against her enemies.
She’d never pictured him in a domestic scene with eggs and a
sister-in-law. It was almost sexy watching an oversize, dangerous male
prowling the shelves of a giant refrigerator.

Maybe she ought to be producing contemporary chic flicks instead of pirate fantasies.

Brooding over whether contemporary fantasies were as
marketable as her pirate one, Mara silently followed TJ out to his car,
drinking his coffee and generously handling the paper for him. She
grimaced at the boring rental car he led her to but climbed in without
comment when he opened the door for her. She’d give the wealthy like the
McClouds credit for one thing—good manners.

Scooting the passenger seat back so she could stretch out,
she caught TJ’s surreptitious glance at her legs. Considerately, she
didn’t tweak his switches by crossing her knees. She just wanted to
inhale coffee, newsprint, and TJ’s familiar presence.

After all these years, she still felt comfortable enough
with TJ to relax and be herself. She just wasn’t entirely certain who
that self was anymore.

She didn’t appreciate that sudden insight into her screwed-up psyche.

Returning the coffee to TJ after he maneuvered the car
into the street, she began flipping through the paper sections in search
of the ones she wanted.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed he drained the
hot liquid in almost a single gulp. She should have handed him a beer to
see how alcohol lit his fire.

Knowing she could still get under the skin of a full-
grown TJ McCloud soothed her mood considerably. Crossing her ankles and
pulling out the books section, she broke the silence. “You didn’t come
to my party. Big time at the McCloud residence last night?”

“Matty was upchucking. Jared had promised to take the
neighbor’s kids to a school thing, but Cleo was beside herself.” He
shrugged. “I figured I’d be
persona non grata
at your place, so I took the kids to school so Jared could stay home.”

Mara had to mentally snap her jaw shut. “You took a couple
of kids to school instead of attending the bash of the year? Knowing if
you played your cards right, you might even get lucky? Are you applying
for the Mother Teresa award?”

“You’re the one who lectured me on responsibility.” He kept his voice even and his eyes on the road.

She was quite certain the steam level had just risen ten
degrees. A man didn’t ignore a reference to getting lucky without
reason, particularly not in this case. They had a lot of unresolved
issues simmering here.

She didn’t want to settle them on a Sunday morning with a hangover.

“Just remember I’m Gemini.” She flipped open the book
review section and began scanning the headlines, looking for items of
interest. “You never know which me you’re talking to.”

“Multiple personality disorder,” he diagnosed. “You didn’t used to suffer that.”

“Did so too,” she retorted, hiding her uneasiness at the
mention of mental illness. “I was shy, obedient Patsy at school, and
blunt honest me with you.”

“You just imitated Brad and me.” He swung the car down the sandy lane toward Cleo’s house and the beach. “You grew out of it.”

“Yeah, boy, did I ever,” she muttered, glancing up from a
book review to dig for her PDA and catching sight of the widow’s walk
through the windshield. She forgot the computer and squinted into the
sunlight. “Is he sunbathing up there?”

“Reading comic books, most likely.” Unperturbed by his brother’s activities, TJ veered into the driveway and cut the engine.

Carrying the
Times
, Mara climbed out of the car
before TJ could grab his groceries and open the door for her. The
half-naked man on the roof waved from his lounge chair, and she waved
back. She’d lived in L.A. for nearly ten years. Eccentricity was
required for residency. What she really needed to do was scout the
location for a road around TJ’s roadblock.

“Hey, Pats! Sorry we missed your bash last night,” Jared called down as they approached the house.

“Your loss, Clumsy. Tim says you hide the espresso here.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind trading New York’s exhaust fumes for all this sunshine, but a guy’s got limits.”

TJ interrupted this exchange of pleasantries. “Where’s Cleo? Did she put the espresso machine back together?”

“She’s in Matty’s room, egging videos. I think it’s fixed. Go look.”

“Egging videos?” Mara inquired.

“We do what we can for entertainment around here,” Jared called back.

TJ put a hand to the small of her back and shoved her
toward the door. “Shut up and read your funnies, Jared,” he shouted at
the roof without looking up.

“Jared inherited all the charm, right?” she asked wryly, stumbling up the stairs under his direction.

“Right. I got the muscles, Jared got the charm, and our baby brother got the brains.”

“How’s Tom doing these days?” she tried to question
casually while TJ all but hauled her into a charming cottage of gleaming
pine floors and spacious sunlit windows. Somewhere in the back of the
house, childish laughter echoed in accompaniment to the murmur of a
television.

She ignored the tug of envy at the homey surroundings and
jerked out of TJ’s rough hold. The man didn’t know his own strength, but
she knew how to handle muscle better than the loneliness this house
stirred.

“He goes by Clay these days. We never appreciated our
first names, especially after Jared made a point of using them to insult
us.” Now that TJ had her out of Jared’s view, he stalked ahead of her,
his broad shoulders nearly filling the narrow hall. “Clay’s working on a
new kind of three-D computer animation that will turn the film industry
on its head. Surprised you haven’t run into him.”

Amusement curled her lips. “Contrary to popular opinion, I
don’t know every man in L.A.” Entering the large kitchen, she spun
around to examine the tiled counters and trestle table while he put the
milk and eggs away. Catching sight of a fascinating assortment of pewter
and ceramic gremlins leaning over and grimacing from the tops of the
cabinets, she stood on tiptoe to stare back at them.

“Clay’s too cynical to look at women anyway.” TJ found the coffee beans and began filling the machine.

“Yeah, I never met a McCloud who looked at women,” a feminine voice mocked from the doorway.

Mara swung around to greet the compact woman with the
short auburn curls she’d met on the beach. “I never met a McCloud who
was content with just looking,” she agreed cheerfully.

Cleo leaned a shoulder against the door frame, crossed her
arms, and lifted a wry eyebrow at her brother-in-law. “Do tell. TJ
doesn’t.”

“Go egg a video, Cleo,” he countered. Affection tinged his words, but he didn’t tear his gaze from the machine’s operation.

Slipping one hand from beneath her armpit, Cleo flung an
egg-shaped object at his solid back. Mara jumped at the resulting
splash, then giggled when the ball did no more than bounce off him. With
excellent reflexes or a lot of practice, TJ turned, caught the egg
before it hit the ground, and flung it back at Cleo in a single fluid
movement. The ball bounced off her shoulder and emitted another
convincing splash.

“We egg each other on,” TJ said gravely, catching the ball
in his fist with Cleo’s return throw. It squished satisfactorily
between his fingers before he flung it at Mara.

Grinning broadly, Mara caught it and examined what appeared to be a spongy rubber ball in the shape and color of an egg.

“I’m inventing one that leaves egg goo just for TJ,” Cleo informed them without breaking a smile. “Did you get my milk?”

“In the fridge. Why invent what already exists?” He stuck a mug under the steaming flow from the machine.

Mara inhaled the rich aroma and decided she was knocking
on heaven’s door. Despite the sharp banter, she sensed the high degree
of respect between TJ and Cleo. Could families really live together like
this without killing each other? Not the ones she knew, but she basked
in the comforting ambiance of this one. Or maybe it was just the smell
of coffee.

“Don’t want to waste a perfectly edible egg when a rubber
one would do.” Cleo grabbed the milk from the refrigerator and ambled
toward the back door. “Don’t let your people swim off those rocks,” she
called over her shoulder to Mara. “There’s a dangerous current out
there.” The screen door slammed behind her.

Cleo was a fascinating enigma that made Mara’s fingers
itch to sketch out character notes for a screenplay nagging at the back
of her mind. “Where’s she taking the milk?” Ten dozen questions leaped
to mind, but this one emerged first.

“To the menagerie. Do iguanas drink milk? Or maybe a cat
had kittens. Hell if I know. She’s always got some animal out there
needing care.” With the second cup filled, TJ jerked his head toward the
back door. “This way is shorter since we can’t drive over.”

She didn’t even bother asking shorter to where. Feeling as
if she’d just stepped through the looking glass and discovered Oz
instead of Alice, Mara hefted the newspaper and followed, humming
happily. It wasn’t New York, but following TJ felt like home.

Strolling down a boardwalk in the direction of the beach,
Mara admired the shrubby wax myrtle filled with birdsong, watched a
crane gliding on an air current ahead, and sipped her espresso. She’d
never sought peace, but right this minute, her fractured nerves settled.
With enough exposure to this calm, they might even knit together again.

“Why the boardwalk?” she asked as they reached an
octagonal resting place of weathered boards complete with benches
overlooking the ocean. Beyond this point, a graying beach house waited
at the end of a shell path. She wondered if that was where TJ lived, but
she didn’t wish to say anything that would upset their unspoken truce.
“Wouldn’t it be just as easy to walk through the grass?” Or drive, given
a small bulldozer and—

“Beach erosion.” TJ settled on the far end of the lookout
and helped himself to the front page of the paper she threw down beside
him. “Before the hurricane, the sand reached out as far as the jetty.
Now it’s at the front door.”

He nodded at the beach house sitting only yards from
lapping waves. “Cleo and Jared figure after another blow like the last
one, the beach house will be wiped out and the main house will be left
sitting on the water unless they do something to prevent it. They’re
hoping a dune will form if they don’t disturb the undergrowth.”

Shoot.
So much for bulldozing dunes. Taking a seat
on the other end of the bench, Mara propped her feet up and sipped her
espresso. “I got environmental approval for this job, if that’s what
you’re getting at.”