McCloud's Woman (36 page)

“They think it’s a recessive gene.” Giving up on food,
Mara sipped the coffee TJ had ordered for her. “My maternal grandparents
died in the war, so we don’t have a family history. The doctor said
Brad’s suicide could have been some form of it, but we’ll never know
now. Aunt Miriam says we come from a long line of eccentrics.” She
offered a deprecating grin. “My aunt speaks ill only of the living.”

TJ started to speak, but Mara waved his words away.
“Don’t, TJ. I’ve already experienced one terrifying episode. I can’t
afford another, and I can’t inflict on a child what my mother has
inflicted on me. I refuse to pass on this trait to another generation.
The buck stops here.”

“Tell me about the homeless-in-the-park incident.”

The change in direction jolted her, but TJ’s inquiring
mind needed feeding, and she was his current topic of interest. She
tried not to revisit this particular subject if she could avoid it, but
she supposed he ought to know all the parameters of the situation.

“I was only twenty. Irving and I had our ups and downs,
but I was raised to believe marriage was forever, so I was making the
best of it. This was before my mother’s symptoms were diagnosed.”

TJ poured another glass of wine and stoically bit his
tongue—she could tell by the way his jaw muscles clenched. She’d lived
it. He could listen.

“Anyway, I arrived at the store early one day, and there
was Irving in the back room, his pants down around his ankles, boffing
the airhead clerk.” Mara closed her eyes against the pain. “I’m not
certain what I did—screamed, hit him with my pocketbook, who knows? I
certainly caught him off guard, and he came up swinging. I think it was
the gushing blood that prevented us from killing each other.

“We were all absurdly civilized, finding ice, cleaning up,
taking me to the emergency room. The doctors patched me up, told me to
come back for surgery, and I got up, got dressed, and wandered out
without looking for Irving. I didn’t go home. I went away somewhere
inside my head. The police returned me to Irving a few weeks later when
they found me crying on a park bench. I remember very little of those
weeks. End of story.”

TJ nodded knowingly. “Depression. That’s treatable.”

“What Mama has, isn’t,” she argued, knowing the subject well.

“You don’t know that you have what she does.”

“I’m not willing to take that risk.” She bit her lip against a sob, praying he’d understand.

TJ leaned his head back against the chair. “I want to come
over there and hold you right now, but I don’t dare.” His voice sounded
strained, and his big hands gripped the chair arms until his knuckles
turned white. “You cried all the way through Brad’s funeral, and I
didn’t dare go to you then either. Where you’re concerned, my protective
instincts are all screwed up with hormones. Back then, I figured you
hated me and wouldn’t want me touching you. Right now...” He gestured
helplessly. “You have reason to hate me twice as much.”

“The Incredible Hulk thinks with his prick,” she said dryly. “Women understand that. We’re really not as dumb as we look.”

He sat up and cocked his eyebrow, challenging her. “All
right, we’ll take this one step at a time. Will you let me sleep with
you, or shall I ask Katy for a cot?”

Sometimes, his bluntness was hard to take. There was
something to be said for padding honesty with warm fuzzies. But she
wanted TJ in her lonely bed so much, she didn’t care how the offer
arrived. She submitted a perfunctory protest. “Do you think sleeping
together is the smart thing to do?”

“I don’t think intelligence has anything to do with where we are now.” The dry tone of his voice made her wince.

“I’m winging it,” he continued, staying firmly planted in
the chair. “I want to sleep with you. That’s not all I want to do,” he
admitted, “but I thought maybe this time, we could try talking about it
first. Lend some token of rationality.”

He still wanted to sleep with her. Mara let that pleasant
thought comfort her. Despite everything she’d hit him with in these last
few hours, he didn’t want to run screaming for the hills. Every other
man of her acquaintance would be running so hard by now, she wouldn’t
even see his dust. “You’re the one who threw me out last time,” she
reminded him.

“For your own good. I’ve got a few problems you don’t need to be burdened with.”

Mara flung the coffee cup at his obtuse head. Fortunately
for both of them, it was empty. TJ caught it with one hand and set it
beside his glass.

Her breath caught as he rose from the chair. He was so
damned magnificent, it terrified her to believe a man like that would
want her.

Though she knew he was in as much turmoil as she, he
looked calm and confident and gorgeous. Sturdy tanned hands reached out
to help her from the chair. Muscled arms clasped her against a chest so
powerful, she could feel the strength he restrained as he bent to kiss
her cheek. In TJ’s arms, even an ungraceful ostrich like her could feel
cherished.

It couldn’t hurt to feel loved for just a few days. Every
soul needed the nourishment of love and gentleness to flourish and grow.
Perhaps, if she was very careful, she could help TJ in the same way.

Standing on tiptoes, she clasped the sides of his head and
brought his lips to hers. She would offer what little she could, and
pray she wouldn’t drive him away too soon.

***

TJ leaned his shoulder on the window frame and watched the
dawn spread over the yachts bobbing in the harbor. After Mara’s
incredibly intense lovemaking last night, he should have slept like a
dead man. He hadn’t slept a wink.

The woman in the bed behind him had seeped inside some
part of him he hadn’t known existed. He wanted her. He’d always wanted
her. That much, he understood. But even after they made love and
physical desires had been momentarily satiated, there was a connection,
and a hunger he couldn’t resolve in any known fashion.

For one insane moment yesterday, wild hope had blossomed,
and he had imagined marriage and babies and a house he could go home to
at night where he could feel loved and wanted.

He hadn’t even known he’d needed those things until Mara
had said he couldn’t have them—not with her. She was the only woman he
knew who could make him contemplate domesticity—probably because Mara’s
idea of domesticity had him ducking for cover half the time.

He grinned briefly at the memory of some of their
skirmishes, then rubbed his forehead again and tried not to turn to
admire Mara’s slenderness buried under the covers. He’d learned she
liked the air-conditioning turned up so she could sleep with the
blankets on. He thought he could spend a lifetime uncovering the secrets
of her mind and never grow bored. He wanted a lifetime with Mara.

He wanted their child.

Tears prickled behind his eyelids, but he wasn’t a man who cried easily. Pain simply welled and ate at his gut.

He had no right to demand anything of her. He’d already
caused enough harm. But every time he thought about the child they’d
created... He knew he was willing to take chances. Mara wasn’t. She needed
security. She needed hairdressers and limos and lace pillows and all
those things his life didn’t include.

She stirred and called sleepily. The seductive sound drew
TJ like a siren song, reminding him of why he couldn’t insist, couldn’t
argue, could do nothing to make this more difficult for her. He had to
think of Mara first. She’d been through hell. No man had any right to
ask her to repeat that journey.

Trying to find that place inside himself where he
retreated when he examined the bones of murdered children, TJ forced a
smile, and sat down on the bed. “I’ll bring you some coffee,” he
promised, brushing a kiss across her brow.

“And shoot anyone who comes near us,” she murmured, snuggling closer.

“That can be arranged.” Smiling genuinely now, TJ smoothed the hair from her eyes.

He just needed to find the woman he knew and loved inside
the shell of Mara Simon, glamorous movie producer. Shy Patsy had
retreated into hiding, but once he persuaded her to come out, he could
try reasoning with her fears.

She needed him. This time, he wouldn’t leave.

“You had a message from Dad and a rather erratic one from
the colonel.” Clay announced, entering the dining room where TJ and Mara
sat sipping coffee and scanning newspapers. He set the espresso machine
he carried on the counter where Katy indicated.

“The cottage doesn’t have an answering machine,” TJ replied curtly.

Aware of her crew gradually filling the other tables, Mara
didn’t interfere in the conversation between brothers, but she rather
thought TJ was missing the point. Probably deliberately.

“Jared does.” Clay plugged in the coffee machine and checked the dials.

TJ growled and set aside his newspaper. “How erratic?”

“Once I got past some of the most inventive swearing I’ve
heard in a while, it sounded as if the colonel’s blaming you for turning
on him. I believe he accused you of lying, betrayal, and possibly the
end of Christianity.”

“He found out I gave the boxes to the media.” TJ picked up the paper again.

Mara snatched it from his hands. “Call him, TJ. Explain what happened. If he’s innocent, you owe him that.”

He regarded her over the top of his cup. “I can only take
care of so many innocents at one time. Martin can take care of himself.”

She didn’t want to read more into his words than was there. If he spoke of the child, she wouldn’t listen.

But she knew he’d never forgiven himself for not listening
to Brad. She didn’t want another friend of his destroyed, didn’t want
to heap more guilt on his overworked conscience—as she was doing. Unable
to consider that thought, she stuck out her hand. “Give me his number
and I’ll call.”

Clay dropped the phone message into her palm. “Maybe
you’ll want to call Dad, too. This is the first time in my recollection
that he’s taken his nose out of a book long enough to pick up a phone.”

“He called once from the hospital when you were born,” TJ
offered without inflection, grabbing the message and tucking it into his
pocket. “I didn’t recognize his voice until he yelled at me for
answering the phone improperly. You haven’t missed much.”

Clay laughed and crossed the room again to watch Katy feed coffee beans to the espresso machine, leaving them to their privacy.

“Okay, so wealthy doesn’t mean functional.” Mara
interpreted TJ’s meaning this time. Enigmatic had nothing on Tim. “But
your parents are at least minimally sane.”

A smile cocked one corner of his mouth. “Define ‘sane.’”

She was as much into avoidance as TJ this morning. “Not in
this lifetime. Are you going to the dig? I want to see how the
production is coming, then I thought I’d double-check the library to see
if I missed anything and go back to the courthouse to look up the names
of the landowners on the island. I hate giving up on your bones.”

“I’m packing up the site and the office, shipping
everything to the storage unit in Charleston until someone claims them.
Stop by the dig and tell me when you leave for the courthouse, and I can
join you if I’m done.”

She loved talking about mundane daily tasks with TJ. It
established a balance of order she could learn to enjoy. He didn’t
complain if she neglected him to follow her own pursuits. He even
offered to
help
. For the first time in her life, a man made her feel important.

She was dreaming again. TJ would despise her once he understood she was serious about not having babies.
Keep this strictly professional, Patsy Amara.
“I thought I’d dig deeper into the mayor’s family. Something the
librarian said made me curious. I doubt there’s any relationship, but—”

“You never could resist curiosity. Got it.” TJ polished
his reading glasses while watching from across the table. “Would you
rather I stayed with you today?”

Shoot. Darn. Effing
— Mara fought back tears at his concern. “I’ll be okay. Just don’t remind me, all right?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded. “I’ll try.
Just keep talking to me. I need to know what’s happening inside your
head or I’ll panic and pull a Hulk again.”

She hated what she was doing to him. Underneath all that
muscle was a man who genuinely cared and worried about her, but she
couldn’t help smiling at the image his words summoned. “You’re not
green, but I like the idea of you bursting out of your shirt. Instead of
talking, can I tease you once in a while?”

“Not right now. I’m walking a wire so thin, I can’t see
it.” Abruptly, he stood and walked away from the table without a word of
farewell or a kiss to ease the parting.

Mara understood. Sometimes, this sharing business left the
skin thin and tender to the touch. He’d already pierced her in a
thousand places this morning, without even trying.

She’d hate to see what damage he could wreak when he really worked at it.

***

“Did I show you pictures of my nephew, Miss Simon? He’s
only nine months old and already walking. My sister says he calls for
auntie all the time.” The young assistant librarian brought out a string
of plastic-covered snapshots and spread them across the counter for
Mara’s perusal.

The precocious child in the pictures had black hair the color of TJ’s.

Mara choked out some senseless sentiment, gathered up her papers, and fled the quiet library. So much for the peace of research.

She’d run away from the set when one of the locals brought
his twin toddlers to the beach to show off. She’d escaped the B&B
when friends of Katy’s brought their children to play in the private
pool. Everywhere she turned, adorable babies smiled and cooed at her,
promising love and laughter and hope for the future.

She’d get her tubes tied. She was too old to change her
ways or to endure this indecision any longer. She liked her freedom. For
the first time in her life, she was on the brink of having her own
life, supporting herself, and enjoying it. In a year or two, perhaps she
could have a house of her own, and her mother could stay with her. That
ought to kill any annoying hormonal need to nurture.