Carolina Girl (31 page)

“An angel! I have an angel.”

Cissy snorted inelegantly and returned to frowning at the
monitor and laboriously arguing with the word- processing program.

Understanding Aurora’s cryptic cry, Clay raised both
eyebrows in surprise, set the laptop aside, and grabbed for the paper in her
hand. “Who’s offering? Satan? The company who stole the first
program? China?” “Angels” with money to invest were few and
far between these days.

She danced away, holding the letter out of his reach,
laughing. “Cynic! You didn’t think I could do it, did you? You just
like my cooking and wanted to keep me around to feed you.”

He caught her by the waist and hauled her from her feet so
he could snatch the paper. His strength always took her by surprise. She could
get used to it quickly if the man overcoming her was Clay.

She wiggled against him and heard him growl, but Cissy was
glaring at them again. They really would have to act on this attraction once
things settled down. In the meantime, Rory nibbled Clay’s ear, then
shoved away when he held the note out of her reach to read it.

“One of the bigwigs at the bank where I used to work
retired,” she explained for her sister’s benefit, “and
he’s looking for investments. He was one of the first people I sent a
packet to last week. After I read his reply I called him, and he’s
definitely interested. He’s already involved with another software firm,
and they think this might work into their business plan.”

“We keep controlling interest,” Clay admonished,
backing off as he read the name on the letter. “‘Mysterious’
isn’t leaving my hands now that I’ve bought the rights
back.”

“He understands that. He has grandkids, and he was
impressed that they were enthusiastic about the game. I don’t think he
takes it very seriously. He’s doing it because his grandkids told him
to.”

Cissy looked from one of them to the other. “Okay, I
may sound stupid, but what are we talking about?”

“Money, lots and lots of money!” To the tune of
“We Will Rock You”
pouring from her computer’s sound
system, Aurora beat her fists in the air and danced across the room to the
kitchen.

Clay caught her hand, spun her around, and bent her backward
over his arm. “Turtles and sweetgrass,” he reminded her.

Caught off guard as well as off balance, Rory squeaked in
surprise when his mouth closed over hers. Sinking deep into the bliss of his
kiss and the heady effect of his support, she flung her arms around his neck
and let the moment happen. This was the way it should be, sharing happiness
along with the burdens. She was bursting with joy in so many ways that kissing
Clay was the only sensible way to express it.

“Take it to the bedroom,” Cissy called.

“Whoops.” Clay pretended to drop her, then
pulled her upright again, brushing a kiss against her ear where Cissy couldn’t
see it. “Any chance of taking it to the bedroom?” he whispered into
her hair.

“Not a chance.” Still dizzy but conscious of her
sister, Rory opened the refrigerator door and let the cold air blow away the
steam that kiss had engendered. She didn’t think her heart would ever be
the same again.

She needed to think about turtles and sweetgrass and money
and not sexy partners who blew her mind out her ears. Sexy partners who leaned
over her shoulder and examined the refrigerator with her.

“Do you have any more of that banana pie?” he
asked, reaching around her to push bowls out of the way.

“Banana pie isn’t for celebrating. Chocolate is.
With raspberries on top. And whipped cream. Should we start stocking
champagne?”

“Lobster. Much better than champagne. And the pie will
hold me until you’ve finished cooking up more calories.” Finding
the pie, he removed it to the counter with the air of a well-satisfied man.

“Company coming,” Cissy called from the front
room. “Know anyone in a white SUV?”

Rory watched with curiosity as Clay studied the banana cream
pie with a glint in his eye that she’d learned to be wary of.

“Yeah, big brother is in town,” he answered,
setting the pie down and carving out a large piece. “His wife tried to
talk him into renting something a little flashier than a Taurus, and he came up
with that. TJ is not high on imagination.”

Clay carefully placed his slice of pie on a dish he
retrieved from the cabinet, but he didn’t return the remainder to the
refrigerator, Rory noted. Remembering Cleo’s warning about the McCloud
brothers, she decided to stay out of hurricanes. She emptied a cup of flour
into her mixing bowl and waited for the doorbell to ring.

“Hi, my name is TJ McCloud,” a gravelly bass
voice announced as Cissy opened the door. “Jared said we might be able to
purchase a fountain here.”

Confused, Cissy glanced over her shoulder at Clay, who
gestured with his head toward the back of the house. Shrugging, she turned back
to the visitor. “If you’d go around to the rear, I’ll send my
father out to help you.”

They’d had enough tourists wander to the wrong door to
know the routine. That was why they’d lined the walk back to the factory
with lawn ornaments. But why on earth was Clay sending his brother out back?
Better yet, why was his brother asking about fountains instead of Clay?

Rory glanced surreptitiously at Clay’s deadpan
expression and decided this must be a McCloud thing. She cracked an egg into
the bowl of flour as Clay carried the half-empty pie pan to the patio door.

“Do I call Dad?” Cissy inquired with equal
curiosity. “Does he really want to buy a fountain?”

“No, he really wants to see what I’m doing.
Since I locked him out of the cottage, he’s come to snoop here. He needs
a little reminding that snooping isn’t polite.” The glint in Clay’s
eye belied his impassive tone.

Siblings had issues. Rory knew that well enough. Maybe she
ought to help him with his. “You know, I could just go out and meet
them,” she offered, hearing two voices coming around the trailer.
“That’s the adult, rational thing to do.”

“What, and disappoint them? Nope. They came all this
way because Jared told them I’m rotting away down here, not living up to
my potential, and now I’m acting peculiar. So they’ll get
peculiar.” He lifted an eyebrow in amusement as the voices came closer.
“Not that peculiar is anything new in our family.”

Rory tried to stifle a laugh but didn’t succeed. She
grinned the instant Clay slid open the patio door, and his brother’s bass
voice shouted “Duck!”

The pie flew from Clay’s hand, probably with deadly
accuracy.

Yelping and shouting ensued, but Clay merely folded his
impressive biceps over his black T-shirt and leaned against the door frame.
“Looking for someone?” he called.

“Thomas Clayton, I swear, you’ll pay for this!
This hairpiece set me back a hundred bucks, I’ll have you know.”

Rory couldn’t resist. Leaning over the sink, she
looked out the kitchen window to see a woman as tall as she was, but probably
thirty pounds lighter. Their visitor picked an atrocious, banana-cream-smeared
hairpiece off her head to shake it out. Beside her stood a bemused man more
SUV-sized compared to Clay’s race-car leanness.

Obviously torn between helping his laughing wife and maiming
his brother, TJ rolled his eyes in frustration, and Rory cracked up. Neither of
the pair seemed in the least startled by Clay’s behavior. “Is this
what Cleo calls a ‘McCloud thing’?” she inquired through her
chuckles.

Distracted, Clay lifted a cool eyebrow at her but
didn’t blink until the ruined wig hit him in the face. He jumped in
surprise, causing Rory to laugh harder. Yummy banana cream added to the appeal
of impassive genius.

Wiping the worst of it off with the back of his arm, he bent
to retrieve the hairpiece from the back step. “Sorry about that,
Mara,” he called. “I was aiming for Tim. You really should duck
when big brother tells you, but you look too good to wear this ugly thing.
I’ll buy you a better one.”

Watching from the window, Rory noted that once reassured his
wife was unharmed, TJ greeted his youngest brother with the hint of a smile.
“There are more civilized ways of saying hello,” he intoned
gravely, flicking at a speck of pie on Mara’s shirtsleeve.

“Whoops, must have mixed my messages,” Clay said
in the same expressionless voice as TJ. “I thought I was saying,
‘Get out of here.’ My apologies. Want me to show you the water
fountains? There’s a really Byzantine one just past the magnolia. For
you, I’ll cut a deal.” He tossed the hairpiece in the direction of
the trash can.

Cissy wandered to the dining room window to watch. She eyed
Clay with skepticism and started for the door, prepared to show their visitors
fountains.

Deciding that if Clay’s greeting was Yankee
hospitality, she’d better show him a superior form, Rory shook her head
at her sister. “Don’t encourage them,” she murmured as she
brushed past. “McClouds are apparently not totally civilized in each
other’s company.”

Tucking a proprietary hand beneath Clay’s muscled
biceps, wiping banana cream from his bristly cheek and licking her finger, Rory
leaned through the doorway to smile at their visitors. “Hi, should I
throw him out or are you coming in?”

Clay’s arm tightened to hold her hand captive. She
inched closer, brushing her breast against his side. Trying to carry on an
affair beneath the eyes of family, especially her impressionable niece, had
been impossible, but her body instantly responded to his touch. Not that she
had to act on it, of course. They had visitors, after all.

The steam rising in Clay’s eyes as they met hers
warned that he considered visitors no deterrent.

A blush rose to her cheeks, and Rory hurriedly turned to
greet their guests. Clay’s attractive sister-in-law widened her eyes with
interest, while his brother’s narrowed, she noted. TJ looked just like
Clay when he did that, although his hair was darker, his nose more prominent,
and his face more rugged than striking.

“Hi, I’m Mara Simon,” their willowy guest
introduced herself. “And this is TJ. McClouds don’t believe in
introductions, maybe because they don’t think they need any?”
Appropriating her husband’s arm in almost the same gesture Rory had used,
she steered him up the garden path to the patio door.

“I’m Aurora Jenkins. Come in, there’s
still a piece of pie left if you want to get even, or I’ll direct you to
the bathroom so you can fix your hair. I think he missed the rest of
you.”

“We’re standing right here, you realize?”
Clay asked, not moving from his position while Rora and Mara exchanged
pleasantries.

“Yeah, but if you remain silent, we can pretend
you’re invisible.” Tugging, Rory toppled him back a step so Mara
could enter. “This is my sister, Sandra. We don’t bite, even if
Clay does.”

Stepping up, TJ nearly filled the open doorway. He surveyed
the interior, Aurora, and Cissy, before letting his wife out of his sight.
Apparently unfazed by his protectiveness, Mara greeted Cissy and strolled down
the hall with her, her hips swaying in rhythm with her blithe chatter.

“Iced tea, Mr. McCloud?” Slightly nervous before
Clay’s intimidating older brother, Aurora fell back on her upbringing.

“Call me TJ, please, and water will be fine. Excuse
our intrusion. We really did want to see the fountains, contrary to what Clay
may have led you to believe.”

If Clay managed to fill the low-ceilinged room with his
presence, TJ overwhelmed it. Rory busied herself with glasses and ice and
keeping an eye on Clay’s inscrutable expression for guidance. Stupid of
her, but she had this unreasonable urge to defend him, as if he needed it.

Or was she feeling defensive because she feared TJ would
scorn Clay’s choice in befriending her and her family? Maybe that was why
Clay resented his brother’s interference.

If she judged on appearances, she’d say Clay’s
family came from a much more sophisticated, wealthier world than hers. Of
course, ex-millionaires usually did. She’d never see him as a beach bum
again.

“I told you, the fire destroyed the paint and
there’s nothing for Mara to see except concrete.” Clay closed the
patio door and accepted the glass Rory handed him.

“And Jared told me Miss Jenkins’s car may have
been deliberately driven off the road to cause the fire, and that your place
has been broken into. Having been through this once with the locals, I thought
I might be able to add my expertise in finding the culprits,” TJ replied
patiently.

“Ah, now I see the reason for the pie. Clay
didn’t ask for your help, did he?” Rory handed a glass to TJ, but
instead of politely retreating, she stared Clay’s brother in the eye,
even if she had to tilt her head up to do so. She’d had about all she
could take of superior attitudes, even from the family of a friend.
“It’s generous of you to offer, but you’re overlooking the
fact that
I
am one of the locals. If anyone has any expertise here,
it’s me and Cissy.”

“There’s no point arguing,” Clay said,
pulling her out of his brother’s face. “He doesn’t mean to be
insulting. It’s just that TJ’s goal in life is to interfere.”

“Cleo tells me that if TJ hadn’t interfered with
her, she and Jared might not be married now,” Mara said, emerging from
the hallway bathroom. “Interference is a
good
thing, even if you
macho McClouds don’t get it.”

With a shrug, Clay took a stool at the counter and tugged
Rory back between his knees. “If we promise not to set any more fires or
report any break-ins, he might go away. I’d like to eat my pie before it
melts.”

TJ lifted an eyebrow in a gesture all too like his
brother’s. “He’s eating pie? In the middle of the day? How
did you pry him away from the computer long enough?” His gaze drifted to
the front room where both computers were flashing screen savers, Clay’s
with photo images from
Star Wars
, Rory’s with dollar signs and a
bank logo.