"I think I'll buy a sailboat," he murmured against her mouth, before steering her toward the door, hand at the small of her back.
"Sailboat?" She halted his progress for another kiss. She needed to bank these, stack them up in her mind to be taken out and examined every time she felt lonely. He obliged, cupping her breasts and stroking until she thought she'd have to have him right here on the lawn with the snakes and mosquitoes.
"I want to make love to you with the sound of surf in the background, and I have a suspicion sand and crabs would get in the way if we tried the beach." He lifted her past the steps to the porch so their lips met on an even level.
She laughed breathlessly against his mouth. "Two minds and all that. Are we getting old or just learning caution?"
"Peter Pan never grows old, but he knows better than to tangle with Captain Hook. Come along, Tinker, let's tangle."
They didn't make it any farther than the wide couch cushions.
There was something to be said about the power of the male body, Cleo mused as Jared stripped off the last of his clothes, revealing the subtle musculature of long thighs supporting all that masculine studliness. She bit back a smile at her hedonism. She'd never indulged in sensuality in any form, but she thought she could learn as she reached to touch him, and he responded with an encouraging ardency.
A warm breeze drifted through the open windows. A cardinal chirruped in the branches of a wax myrtle. Sunlight stole through an opening in one of the shutters, throwing a golden path across the pine floor Cleo had lovingly polished until it shone.
Her sighs joined the cardinal's song as Jared kissed away decades of hurt and returned life where there had been none. She knew she'd have to return the favor soon, but not right this minute, with the faint scent of late honeysuckle and jasmine filtering through the air they breathed. The perfume mingled with the scents of sweat and musk as they teased each other lingeringly, neither willing to hurry.
When they could no longer deny the urgency building between them, Jared took the initiative, driving into her and taking her so high, so fast, she barely had time to catch her breath. It all burst too suddenly, in a shattering explosion of suns and stars and a deep heat within her that would keep her warm on the wintry days to come. She could hold him deep inside her in her memory for a long time. "Superman, my hero," she murmured, and he kissed her in reply. She hoped he understood.
The sunrays moved across the floor as they lay there, spent and exhausted with emotion more than physical release. The world outside wasn't perfect, but it was peaceful for a change, and they let that peace seep through them.
Cleo drifted for a while, content with the heavy weight of Jared's leg across hers, his arms holding her securely. She could imagine having children with a man like this—a little girl with Jared's dark eyes and long lashes, at the very least. She didn't bother hoping, but it made a nice dream.
Eventually, they woke to the growls of their stomachs and the knowledge that Maya and Matty would arrive in a few hours. Cleo ran her hands over biceps strengthened by restless push-ups, hoping to restrain him from sitting up, but Jared seemed insistent on retrieving his clothes. She let him go, and wondered how she would explain his presence in her bed tonight. She didn't think she could make him leave just because her son and sister were arriving. She didn't want to.
"This isn't the way I pictured doing this," he grumbled, pulling on his shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he reached for his pants. "But I suppose having you naked adds an air of interest."
Propping herself on an elbow, Cleo watched him jerk his trousers over narrow hips and fumble in his pockets. Jared McCloud was one good-looking hunk of man, but she'd seen loads of handsome men. This one had something special besides the pretty-boy hair and wide shoulders and flat abdomen she adored. She'd call it intelligence, but she thought it was more than that. Sensitivity? Nah, he didn't have a sensitive bone in his body. Understanding, perhaps. He simply understood where she'd been and accepted that without questioning. She loved him for that more than anything.
He produced a velvet jeweler's box, and she blinked in disbelief. "Pay off time?" she inquired lightly to cover her discomfiture.
He dropped onto the cushion beside her and slapped her bare rump. "I'll get even with you for that some day, but not right now. I'm too nervous to do this any other way but straight." He popped open the box.
Cleo dropped back against the pillow and stared at the shimmering ring in incredulity and shock. "You're kidding, right?"
He took a deep breath, and she watched in fascination as his lightly furred chest swelled, probably with righteous indignation. She drew a finger down the line of hair trekking from breastbone to belt, and he exhaled.
"Believe it or not, Cleo, I'm a grown man capable of making adult decisions. I'm not kidding. I can't promise I'll be rich," he said hurriedly. "I have to pay back that Hollywood advance, my agent may dump me, and I don't know what the future has in store, but I'm confident I can make a good living if you don't require yachts and things. This may be the only time you'll see me like this, but I'm deadly serious. Marry me, please?"
She reached for her shirt and yanked it on. She didn't have the words for this. She'd never expected it. Never. Men like Jared didn't commit. They certainly didn't commit to ex-con addicts with less-than-perfect kids and a penchant for throwing really embarrassing fits, and who could still end up in jail for a few more years if the cards didn't fall her way. The future still looked far too bleak to paint a miracle into it.
Fastening a button over her breasts, Cleo eyed the ring he held as if it were a copperhead. "Jared, you don't mean this. You've just got caught up in the moment, unless you seriously think we can adopt the kids this way, and I'm not about to tie you down over those two."
She saw the anger darkening his eyes. She'd seen it once before, but he didn't frighten her. She loved him far too much to let him ruin his life. She might not have much going for her, but she was stubborn.
"I'm not an amiable idiot, dammit!" he yelled at her. "I know what I'm doing, and it's not for the kids. It's for us. We can see that the kids get into good foster homes until the courts decide what to do with them. I want to be here to look after them, but I don't have to marry you to do that."
He didn't reach for her, but raked his spare hand through his hair and glared. "I love you, Cleo. Let down your smoke screen and admit that you love me, too."
He looked so handsome and frustrated, she was tempted to give him anything he wanted. It would be so easy to slide down that lovely road into dependency again.
But she couldn't do that to him. Blinking back the unanticipated sting of tears, Cleo stared at the window instead of the glitter of temptation.
She'd been prepared to share Jared's bed any time he asked, and to savor the memories when he left. She wasn't prepared for this, couldn't believe he'd even asked it of her.
He thought she was whole and normal. He thought she was strong enough to make him happy. Superheroes either weren't very smart, or they thought everyone as strong as they were. Or both.
Matty had always been her priority. Now, it seemed she had two. Straightening her shoulders, Cleo swiped angrily at the tears rolling down her cheeks. Jared had a brilliant mind and kind soul and deserved a splendid life in the big wide world that was his for the taking. How many more sacrifices would it take before he realized he'd given up his soul for her?
She bit her lip as she darted one last glance at the gleaming promise of the ring. "I can't do it, Jared," she said, looking away again. There, she'd been strong. For once in her life, she'd done the right thing. Steadfastly, she watched the window where she'd first seen him, while her heart shrank in misery.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jared set the ring down beside her.
"You can, Cleo." Anger replaced patience in his voice.
He didn't like rejection. She'd known that. He didn't have much experience with it. He'd learn. She had confidence in him. It was herself she do
ubted.
"Then, I won't," she corrected. "I'll sleep with you. I'll rebuild the beach house for you. I won't marry you and destroy your future." She couldn't say it any plainer.
"Isn't that for me to decide?" Jared jumped restlessly to his feet and paced. "Why does everyone think I'm incapable of making my own decisions?"
"Because you don't make good ones?" she asked. She hadn't wanted to hurt him, but she was treading waters she didn't know. They'd gone through a lot together, but they hadn't had time to really know each other. "Giving up success and a career you love for a loser like me doesn't show a lot of attention to detail."
Jared's arms bulged as he swung around and yanked her to her feet. For a moment, Cleo feared she'd pushed a little too far. Fury tightened the muscles over the taut planes of his cheeks, and his eyes practically danced with fire.
"Giving up money for love makes sense to me," he asserted. "Giving up stress and a committee of jerks for a woman and a real life works in my way of thinking. You just let me know when you've shed a few layers of that thick carapace of yours, Crab Cleo. I love you, and when you're ready to admit you're worth loving, you can find me. I'll wait, but I won't come looking for you this time. Understand?"
He dropped her, spun around, and stalked out, vibrating with male fury.
He forgot his shoes, she noted wearily as he slammed the door behind him. She figured he'd leave his shoes and all his clothes before he'd return, though.
He'd left the ring. It sparkled in a late-afternoon sunbeam.
The Jeep spun its tires in the driveway and squealed off. She just wanted to sit here and cry for a million years or so.
But she knew how to handle that feeling too. All that glue she'd used pulling herself together over the years had some purpose.
Picking up her clothes, she went looking for a pair of jeans. She needed to start fixing up the attic if Matty was coming home.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she reached for her tool belt.
Chapter 34
December, New York
"I've been commissioned to see that you eat your supper." Tim slapped a steaming bag from a Chinese take-out in the center of a table cluttered with drawings and pages of discarded script.
"Hey, Tim." Jared glanced up from a dancing character on his computer, noted the bag, nodded, and returned to fiddling with the figure on screen. "Didn't know you were home."
"It is almost Christmas," Tim said dryly. "One does what one can."
"Right. Be with you in a minute." Running his hand through his overgrown hair, Jared growled at the uncooperative character, hit a key, and changed the costume to purple.
"Eat," Tim ordered, "or I'll pull the plug. I've seen your idea of a minute, and I don't have that much patience."
"I'm working," Jared growled back. "I'll eat later. We'll talk when I get back to the house."
"No, we won't. Mother will talk when we get back to the house. Eat now. I brought your mail." Tim paced back and forth across the studio floor, not restlessly, but searching for the right cord to pull in a tangled web of wires.
"Touch that plug and die," Jared warned, knowing his brother's capacity for destructive action. "I don't have this saved yet. Did the mail bring a contract for a million dollars? Otherwise, I'm not interested."
"There's a big envelope from that podunk town in the Carolinas."
Jared hit the Save key. Rising from the computer, he ignored Tim's quizzical expression as he reached for the manila envelope instead of the food. "I sent Cleo a drafting software program," he explained, as if that meant anything to his brother at all.
"I thought that thing with her was all over." Tim opened the restaurant bag and poked around the cardboard boxes, looking for his order.
Settling into an easy chair with stuffing popping from the worn seams, Jared held the envelope warily, trying to guess what surprise Cleo had in store for him. She never answered his phone calls, and her taciturn replies to his email hadn't been encouraging. It took every patient cell in his body not to pursue his earlier tactics of showing up at her door and wearing her down. He had to have the confidence in her that she didn't have in herself. Yet.
At least her attorney had kept in touch. The feds had agreed to drop their case and remove all charges against Cleo in return for the lawyer dropping his suit. She was a free woman, technically. She'd sent him a cigar when Matty had been released to her. He kept it in his shirt pocket.
"Cleo has issues," he asserted, wondering if he ought to postpone opening the envelope until Tim left.
"Yeah, right, who doesn't?" Tim took one of the retro aluminum-and-vinyl dinette chairs that had collected in the studio, and using chopsticks, pried a piece of pork from the box he'd chosen. "That mean she walked instead of you?"
"She didn't walk." Jared grimaced as the smell of Chinese hit him. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. "Give me some of the chow mein." He grabbed the box handed to him, procrastinating over opening Cleo's envelope. "Unlike some others around here that I could name, she has this weird idea I'm some kind of super hero and too good for her, and she doesn't want to ruin my future. Like I said, she has issues."
"Yeah, she's crazy." Tim dug into his rice while organizing the chaos of papers cluttering the table. "You're thirty-two, broke, and living at home. Maybe you're the one who's crazy, and she's being polite."
Jared snickered at the idea of Cleo being polite. "I'm not broke," he protested in his own defense. "I just have all my cash invested in the future. This project will make more money than the Hollywood one ever would have. Cleo doesn't care about money." He knew that much. Finding a woman who thought him so special that she didn't deserve him had him totally flummoxed, though. How the hell did he overcome that attitude? Fail?
He had thought focusing totally on the script would help him get through these lonely months without Cleo. It hadn't. Rather than sell himself out, he'd organized his own team of animators and experienced film editors and whatnot, in hopes they would drive Cleo's haunting laughter out of his head. They hadn't.
He'd stayed up nights rather than sleep in his bed without her arms wrapping around him. Remembering her tears drove him to new heights of fantasy that had his creative team believing he lived in Oz, or at the very least, La-La Land. He wanted to be with her, craved the brush of her skin against his, and needed the taunt of her voice grounding his wilder schemes. He needed Cleo like a martini needed vodka.
He kept hoping Cleo would regain her senses and let him come back.
He glanced at the envelope in his lap. He didn't think Cleo would ask him to come back in an oversized letter.
Tim was regarding him oddly, and Jared dug into his food rather than explain. Trying to explain Cleo would be akin to trying to depict the sun rising to a blind man.
"She thinks you're a superhero and doesn't care about money," Tim said solemnly, as if working through one of his theories on the origins of racial diversity. "Sounds to me like you ought to be down there on bended knee, snatching her up before someone else gets her."
Jared choked on a laugh and a mouthful of noodles. "No one gets Cleo," he managed to say after swallowing. He grinned again at the double entendre. "That's the whole damned problem. I can get any woman I want. I can have Cleo. That isn't the same thing as Cleo agreeing that we belong together. I'm not settling for less, and she won't settle for more. She won't be pushed, so I'm waiting for her to come around on her own."
Tim stared at him as if he'd just announced martinis were more nourishing than milk. "You're waiting for a woman to come around instead of chasing after her?"
Jared sighed and glared at the envelope. "Yeah, ironic, ain't it?" Not only ironic, but futile, he was coming to suspect. He'd hoped it would only take a week or two before Cleo realized what she'd thrown away. It had been over two damned months. Maybe he had a little higher opinion of himself than he'd realized. Maybe he ought to crawl.
Cleo would just tell him he couldn't take no for an answer and slam the door in
his face.
He didn't like the sinking sensation in his stomach at that scenario. He much preferred optimism. He'd figured if he worked hard, stayed focused, and tried not to think too much about how it felt to wake up to mischievous green eyes and a wicked mind that matched his in every way... Kind of hard to focus thinking like that.
"You're saying you offered her marriage?" Tim asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, got a problem with that?" Irritated, Jared set aside the Chinese box and tore the end off the envelope. Cleo was a stubborn brat, but she wasn't stupid. Surely she knew what they had together was special. She just needed time, that's all.
"And she refused?"
Tim had his own problems, Jared reflected, pulling out sheets of drawings. Maybe McClouds weren't intended for marriage. Maybe Cleo was right and he should just move in with her.
He twisted the computer generated drawing in his hand and frowned in puzzlement, then grinned as he realized Gene had reproduced his version of a wrestling match. Not quite his sister's talent, but a warm spot burned hotter in his gut at the thought of Cleo teaching the kid how to use the program he'd sent.
The court had let Gene go, as Cleo had predicted. They'd slapped Linda into a drug program and the kids had gone into foster care. At least Cleo's hand-picked foster parents were intelligent enough to allow generous visiting privileges. Cleo had the kids as often as the foster parents did.
To hell with living together. He wanted this contrary woman to be his. Primitive male instinct clamored for placing his claim on her.
He'd lose what little he retained of his senses thinking she could leave him at a moment's whim. She'd taught him what he wanted was important, and he couldn't think of anything more important than hearing Cleo vow to spend her life with him.
Forgetting Tim, he shuffled through the rest of the papers. Kismet hadn't attempted the drafting program. She'd sent colorful pencil drawings of butterflies with faces he didn't recognize—possibly her foster parents or teachers. He wished he knew. He wanted to be involved in their lives. After the vivid fullness of Cleo's cluttered world, he'd developed a loathing for the sterile shallowness of his single life.
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