Carolina Girl

by Patricia Rice

  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.”

  “What, and get that kind of reception everywhere I go? No, thank you. The jackass will haul your saddlebag. You do the talking.”

  He really did look grumpy at his inability to intimidate Stella, and Aurora had to stifle a laugh. Male egos were such fragile things. She patted his sculpted biceps understandingly. “Maybe if you try using sugar instead of lemon, you’ll fare better with the ladies.”

  “Will sugar work with you?” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

  Hit with the intense focus of those dark-lashed gray eyes, she almost succumbed to the desire fluttering in her belly.

  Remembering her mission, she shook her head. “Nope, and I don’t like lemonade either.”

  She thought she might be lying to herself, but she started down the street trailing Clay McCloud behind her anyway. Having a partner in one of her crusades was a new and rather tantalizing experience. She’d find out soon enough if he could be trusted.

  Chapter Eight

  Clutching the letter from Mandy’s school, Cissy hobbled in the direction of the ringing telephone. She wanted to ball up the letter and cry, but she’d quit the watering-pot business at seventeen, when she’d had to grow up fast.

  Mandy would be seventeen all too soon. She wanted her daughter to have the opportunities she hadn’t had. She wanted Mandy to have the whole world at her feet, like Aurora did. It would be worth everything she’d sacrificed over the years if Mandy could rise above her surroundings and make a difference in the world.

  The letter in her hand would help Mandy accomplish that. All she needed was five hundred dollars, and Mandy could spend her summer at the university learning all those things her mother couldn’t teach her about succeeding in college. There was no question in Cissy’s mind that her daughter would qualify for any scholarship she wanted, but clothes and living expenses would always be a problem. If she couldn’t come up with a lousy five hundred dollars, how would she provide for all those other things Mandy would need?

  She might as well dream of five million dollars when she had five dimes in her purse and no job.

  Tripping over a chair leg and nearly falling, Cissy grabbed the phone on the fourth ring. “Yes?”

  “Sandra Jenkins?” a male voice inquired.

  Except for her father, men didn’t call her, and this wasn’t her father. “I’m not interested.” Annoyed that she’d risked life and limb stumbling through the house for a sales call, she started to hang up.

  “Miss Jenkins, you’ll be interested in this.”

  Her hand slowed. Warily, she used her cane to boost her onto the stool and returned the receiver to her ear. “Unless you’re offering me a job, I’m still not interested.”

  She couldn’t go back to her department-store position yet—didn’t know if she ever could. Her hip ached, and it would be weeks before she could move around fast enough to work properly. The doctors weren’t making any promises. She could type, but no one wanted typists in this day and age of computers. She didn’t have any talent she could sell except painting her father’s statues, and that didn’t pay. She’d be reduced to playing the lottery and praying if something didn’t turn up soon.

  “Better than a job, Miss Jenkins. My name is Ralph Turner. I’m with Commercial Realty, and my firm is prepared to offer you a considerable sum for your property,” said the voice over the telephone.

  Cissy snorted. “Right. And all I have to do is tour your condo on Hilton Head, right? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t. Our firm is purchasing a few lots along your road to pave the way for a new development. Records show you as the owner of one of the parcels. We’re prepared to offer ten thousand an acre, and if you wish, you may take the house with you.”

  Cissy abruptly slid from the stool to search for a notepad. Ten thousand an acre? She did a rough calculation. There were probably over thirty acres, all told. Totally useless for farming. Good for a little duck hunting back around the marsh but not much else. Ten thousand times thirty acres— three hundred thousand dollars. She’d have to split it with Aurora, of course, but one hundred fifty thousand do
llars... That was more money than she could bring home in a decade. She could pay for Mandy’s education and have plenty leftover.

  Ten thousand an acre was a totally outrageous price. She might have dropped out of high school, but she wasn’t an idiot. She knew what marshland sold for out here. They weren’t near the beach or the main highway. She had neighbors all around her. Why her property? “Are you offering everybody that?” she asked suspiciously.

  “We need only the one lot in a central location,” the voice answered smoothly. “Yours is ideal, but if you’re not interested, we’ll call our second choice.”

  “How much time do I have to decide?” She had to ask Aurora. She and Aurora owned the land jointly, but Aurora didn’t want to live here and wouldn’t mind selling. She didn’t know about their father. He didn’t own the land, but he owned the building out back, where he lived and made his monuments. They’d have to compensate him for it.

  “We need a decision fairly quickly, Miss Jenkins.”

  She could keep her house. She could find a cheaper lot, move it down the road….

  “No, I’m sorry,” she answered abruptly, surprising herself. “It won’t work. I can’t buy more land and still afford to move my house for that kind of money. Thank you, but—”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Jenkins. We own some lots farther toward town. We can throw in one of those and use our equipment to move your house as part of the deal. You’d be closer to schools and shopping. The lot won’t be as large, but it will be solid ground.”

  She would hate to leave her neighborhood, but Mandy wouldn’t have so far to go to school. “I’d have to see the lot,” she answered cautiously.

  “Of course. We understand. Is there a good time for me to drive you over there?”

  Three hundred thousand dollars. Mandy’s education. Maybe even her own. A future. A spike of hope caught her breath and brought tears to her eyes. It had been a long, long time since she’d felt anything like hope.