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 stir
red.
“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.”
“You asked.” He drank his coffee and didn’t comment further.
Now Mara understood the purpose of Cleo’s egg—the harmless venting of frustration against this taciturn giant. She’d definitely make it a point to buy the first egg off the production line. Maybe two or three. Grabbing the book section and shaking it out, she pulled her sunglasses down her nose to read.
“I’d better get you some suntan lotion. You’ll burn.” TJ set his paper aside and started to stand up.
Startled, Mara glanced over her sunglasses at the big man who had disrupted his Sunday morning quiet for Cleo and for her. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t use a gooey egg on him.
She hadn’t had a man stir himself for her sake in a long time—if ever. She’d prefer it if he offered her the access road and not lotion, but the thought counted. “Sit down. I’m already wearing lotion. Can’t afford to look old in this business.” She lifted a bronzed ankle and waved it idly in the air. “Unless, of course, you simply wish to apply more, in which case, I accept.”
TJ sat back down, carefully refraining from staring at her bare legs.
Deciding Sunday morning was no time to take out her frustrations on TJ, Mara read in companionable silence for a while, sipping coffee, and occasionally jotting notes in her PDA.
But with a double jolt of caffeine chasing through her arteries , Mara’s attention soon drifted to the fascinating man sprawling across the bench only a yard away. He’d not worn reading glasses in high school, but she thought the small dark-tinted spectacles he wore now an attractive contrast to his macho image.
He had his nose buried in a story about the military and a Balkan crime cover-up. A pity, wasting all that studiousness on a man who could make movie stars pale in comparison.
He wore his hair shorter than he used to, but it was still black and thick with sexy waves just over his temples that he’d probably tried to disguise with the no-nonsense cut. The sun had added an attractive bronze hue to his jaw that couldn’t disguise the dark stubble of his beard.
She remembered TJ as always careful about his appearance, but the island’s laid-back atmosphere had apparently gotten to him. He didn’t precisely look relaxed, but far more casual in a short-sleeved blue shirt and jeans than in his usual white shirt and dress pants. She’d like to see him in a lot less. Even the shirt’s loose fit couldn’t disguise the bulge of his biceps or the hard ridge of muscles defining his chest.
“Let’s swim.”
With no further warning, Mara threw off her blouse, dropped her shorts, kicked off her sandals, and raced for the beach.
Chapter Eight
TJ froze as the hot pink spandex encasing firm buttocks and high breasts flashed past his nose.
In any normal situation, his reflexes
would have reacted quickly enough for him to have grabbed Mara before she reached the sand. But libido-inflaming curves weren’t any normal situation to which he could relate.
Mara hit the beach before his mind jerked back to reality, and he leapt to his feet. Easily outdistancing her as she raced along the sand, TJ prayed that was a bikini and not the secrets Victoria ought to keep to herself.
He grabbed her around her bare waist and hauled her from the hot sand before she could reach the water. Lithe female flesh wriggled in his arms, and it took physical as well as mental strength not to kiss her until they both passed out.
“Jellyfish,” he yelled, wanting to shake the fool woman but disturbingly aware of a waterfall of curls tumbling over his bare arms. She quit squirming, and he instantly set her away from him, too late for his own comfort. He shoved his hands into his pockets to cover the surge of blood to his groin and glared at her.
Mara crossed her eyes, pursed up her lips, and stuck out her tongue in a mocking fish face.
TJ almost buckled with laughter. He still wanted to kiss her until both their heads spun, but he grudgingly conceded the battle. “You win. Go join your sister fishies in the sea.” She’d defused his instant hard-on, but he ached with the residual effect.
“Show me your dig site, then.” She swiveled on her heel and headed down the beach, bikini-clad hips swinging in tantalizing rhythm.
He knew she was doing this on purpose, but if he went back and grabbed something to cover her up, she’d win. Her comment earlier that he might have got lucky had he attended her party had simmered in his imagination for the past hour.
He might have got lucky a long time ago if Brad hadn’t died.
That cooled his ardor. It was time to let that adolescent crush go. Teenage hormones had thrown them into a frenzy that spring, but it would have been a mistake if they’d actually acted upon them. They’d been way too young. Brad’s death had proven the transitory nature of teenage crushes.
Given the uproar in this morning’s paper about Martin and his team’s release of Balkan prisoners, he’d better concentrate on current problems and not past ones.
McCloud's Woman Page 7