McCloud's Woman (35 page)

She straightened her spine, clenched her fists at her
side, and spoke with coldness, but TJ caught the tiny hitch in her
voice. A little girl called Patsy still hid somewhere behind that
sophisticated woman. Patsy couldn’t swat a fly. She’d never harm a baby.

Gathering all the shattered bits of his courage, TJ
crossed the room to stand behind her. He didn’t trust himself to touch
her yet. “We have time to think about this. Don’t do anything rash. Come
home with me, and we can talk.”

He had a purpose again. He didn’t dare explore his
feelings just yet, not while Mara was in this state. He just knew he
needed to be with her. And she needed to be with him.

The starch seemed to drain out of her all at once. Her
shoulders slumped, and she shook her head helplessly. “No, I don’t want
you to talk me out of this. If you’re a real friend, you’ll find a place
that takes care of this kind of thing.”

Her broken whisper tore TJ’s heart into shreds. More
terrified than he’d ever been in his life, he hesitated, afraid he’d
drive her to something irrational if he came any closer.

But he couldn’t
not
touch her. Gently, TJ wrapped
his arms around her waist. “Do you hate me that much? I’m sorry I didn’t
protect you. I was unforgivably reckless and had no excuse. But you
can’t take it out—”

She shook her head violently. “Stop it, TJ! You’re only
making things worse. Find a clinic. Don’t ever come near me again, and
this will all go away with time.”

Maybe he was kidding himself, but he didn’t think she meant that. There was more here than met the eye.

TJ refused to release her, and gradually, she began to
weep. He turned her in his arms, pressed her tears against his chest,
and dug his fingers into her springy curls. “Explain in words that make
me understand,” he murmured as her sobs escalated and his own eyes
burned. He never in his life wanted to hurt Patsy, but he seemed to do
it repeatedly.

“I can’t have a baby,” she sobbed into his shoulder. “I just can’t. I’ll go crazy, just like my mother.”

“Your mother isn’t crazy. A little neurotic, but not
crazy.” He hadn’t seen her mother in seventeen years. What did he know?
But he’d say anything to calm her right now.

“She’s mentally ill,” Mara responded vehemently.
“Certifiably. It runs in the family. It’s a chemical imbalance.” She
slammed her fist into his shoulder, trying to get free, but TJ only hung
on tighter. “Damn you, Tim! Let me go.”

“No, not until I hear the whole story. Chemical imbalances can be treated. Give me more.”

Mara shook her head and collapsed against Tim’s muscled
shoulder. He rubbed his hand up and down her spine, and his strength
calmed her, but physical strength wouldn’t solve her problems this time.
Nor would his cleverness, his sense of justice, or his family
connections.

“I don’t know the technical terms. Her wiring is out of
whack—the imbalance makes it worse. Some days, medication is enough.
Others, it isn’t. She can be gentle as a lamb, or tear a room into
shreds in a matter of minutes. She tried to kill me once. She didn’t
remember it the next day. It’s hereditary, TJ. My mind can snap just
like that. It did. I completely lost it after Irving hit me. I lived in
the park for weeks with all the other homeless people. I refuse to pass
this horrible degenerative thing on to another generation. I can’t have
this baby!”

His silence didn’t tell her everything she wanted to hear,
but it said enough. Carefully, feeling as if she held the shattered
bits of herself together with frayed twine, Mara pried free of his hold
and retreated across the room.

Her father had deserted her when she needed him most, even
knowing her mother was ill. Irving had left her after the homeless
incident. Brad—no point in rehashing old news. The men in her life
didn’t hang around. She had depended on them, but they’d never needed
her. She wouldn’t repeat past failures.

“It’s okay, Tim. I can take care of myself.” She could
barely stand to watch the devastation written across his face, but it
strengthened her resolve. “I just can’t take care of anyone else. Aunt
Miriam takes care of Mom. I send her money. That’s the most I can
manage.”

He looked so sad, she wanted to weep for him, but she’d
already shed all the tears she had for herself. Gripping her elbows, her
arms wrapped around herself, she waited. If she had to find an abortion
clinic on her own, she would. She just prayed TJ was the friend she
needed.

“We need time,” he said slowly, obviously hunting for
words. “I’ve got to know more.” He studied her through grief-stricken
dark eyes. “Please, give me time. I know it’s your decision, and I won’t
stand in your way—but just wait and let me find some way of
understanding.”

His gaze never left her face, and Mara drew reassurance
from that. She couldn’t see what there was to understand, but relief
flooded through her at his acceptance. She didn’t want to do this alone.

Let him leave her after it was over.

Once she’d given him her promise, TJ held his fingers to
his lips, cocked his head, and narrowed his gaze at the door. “Throw
something,” he whispered.

Startled, Mara leapt to do as asked. He had that effect on
her. Without giving it much thought, she flung a brass candlestick from
the mantel.

TJ nodded. “More, and shout.” Leaving her in front of the window, he eased toward the door.

Permission to throw a fit. Just what she needed. Full of
pent-up misery, Mara flung pillows, shoes, and her damned PDA. She felt a
certain sense of satisfaction as it exploded into a million bytes.

“Out, you miserable rotten cur,” she screamed at the top
of her lungs. That felt so good, she threw herself into it with more
enthusiasm. “I’ll rip your tongue out, TJ McCloud! I’ll dice your
balls.”

TJ arched a wry eyebrow as he reached for the door knob,
but Mara was in full gear now. “I’ll slice your liver and serve it to
the turkeys—”

TJ flung open the door, and half a dozen startled people nearly fell over each other as they tumbled into the room.

Unabashed, Ian righted himself and glared at TJ. Katy
Richards took in the layer of shattered glass with dismay. Constantina
rushed to hug Mara, murmuring Italian consolations and giving TJ the
evil eye. Several of the crew hastily backed down the hall at sight of
TJ’s threatening demeanor.

And Clay waited, hands in pockets, taking in the whole
scene with sardonic humor, apparently well acquainted with his brother’s
Machiavellian tactics.

Before anyone else could speak, TJ escalated into field
commander mode. “Ian, find Godivas for the lady. Break into the
drugstore if it’s closed. Kate, find a good hot dinner.”

TJ glanced over his shoulder, and Mara’s frayed nerve
endings quivered at his look of concern. Independence was fine when she
was feeling strong, but when the world rolled over her and crushed her
flat, it was heartbreakingly wonderful to have a wiser, stronger head in
charge.

“What would you like to eat?” he asked in a voice that allowed no argument.

She was starving. Now that she knew she could rely on TJ a
little longer, it was as if the weight of the world had temporarily
lifted, and she could look around again. “Meatloaf,” she stated
decisively, “with lots of gravy and biscuits.”

Constantina stared at her in horror. Ian looked confused.
Mara simply didn’t care. She beamed at them with good humor. Being crazy
had its moments.

“Clay, take my car,” TJ ordered. “Bring my duffel and shaving kit back in the morning. And Jared’s espresso machine.”

Mara liked the sound of espresso. She wasn’t too certain
about the rest, but TJ was doing what he did best, taking charge. Who
was she to interfere?

Clay looked her up and down. Apparently deciding she
wouldn’t explode and take TJ with her, he grabbed the back of Ian’s
shirt. “C’mon. I’m good at breaking and entering. Show me the
drugstore.”

Sputtering, Ian backed out the door.

“Katy, we’ll reimburse you for the breakage.” Deciding she
ought to be responsible for some of these orders, Mara turned to
Constantina. “Con, find some cleaning equipment so I can clean up this
mess. I’m fine, really I am.”
Sort of. Some day.
Putting on a brave face was half the job.

Under TJ’s not-so-gentle urging, their audience
reluctantly departed. With a look of exhaustion, he closed the door and
leaned against it. Arms rippling with muscle bespoke his strength, but
his collapsed stance warned even TJ had his limits.

“I’m sorry,” Mara murmured, not knowing what else to say.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He straightened, driving
his hand through his hair. It had grown longer these last weeks and kept
falling in his eyes. “If anyone’s to blame here, I am.”

“Well, yeah, if my producer gets arrested for stealing
chocolate, I’ll hold you responsible, but that wasn’t what I meant.”
Uneasy now that the drama had ended, Mara wandered lost around the room,
not knowing what to do with herself.

“I knew what you meant.” TJ blocked the French windows
overlooking the harbor, following her every move with his eyes. “I’m not
Sid or Irving. I take responsibility for my actions. This is my fault.”

“Oh, right, and I was just a chair in all this.” She liked
it that he didn’t blame her, that he stood ready to shoulder his fair
share and more. She just wasn’t used to it.

She took the seat at her vanity and began picking up the
bottles and cosmetics she’d knocked to the floor in her earlier storm of
rage. “You don’t have to stay, TJ. I’ll be okay.”

“No, you won’t. And neither will I. This is not something that will ever be
okay
.” He glanced around, and finding the desk phone under a chair, pulled it out and started dialing.

Guilt stole through Mara, but she couldn’t give in to it.
Most men would be relieved that she wanted to get rid of this problem.
Not TJ. She shouldn’t have told him.

She couldn’t have done anything less. That realization
momentarily overwhelmed her. TJ was a part of her. She couldn’t hide
things from him, couldn’t lie, couldn’t pretend, couldn’t even
think
about pretending. All these years since Brad’s death, she’d gone
through life alone. It had taken TJ less than a month to become an
extension of herself, the part that understood even when she was most
confused, the part that could be strong when she weakened.

She didn’t know how she could go on without him, but after
this disaster, there was no question of going on together. He would
hate her for what she had to do. And she couldn’t burden him with what
she was.

She couldn’t face the totality of the devastation just yet.

“Yeah, move the guys here,” TJ said into the receiver.
“The place is fenced but it’s not secured. We’ll need two guards to
patrol, and at least one on the drive. If there’s any trouble, we may
need to upgrade to two. Immediately. Right.” TJ hung up the phone and
started to dial again.

Mara caught the receiver and hung it up. “What are you
doing?” They were too close. She instantly backed away as the intensity
of TJ’s stare burned into her like a laser beam.

“I’m reverting to Incredible Hulk mode,” he said gravely. “You throw things. I put up barriers. I’m moving security here.”

“You’ve been reading Jared’s comics again, haven’t you? What the devil do we need security for?”

“I’m not having this place crawling with reporters out to
nail my hide to the wall.” He punched buttons as curtly as he spoke. “We
need time to talk, and we can’t do it in the middle of a three-ring
circus.”

Not entirely certain that a circus wouldn’t be the best
solution, Mara answered a hesitant knock at the door and let Katy and
Constantina in, wielding brooms and vacuums.

After that, the constant coming and going prevented
serious conversation, just as he’d predicted. Ian returned with Godivas
and wine and the next day’s script changes. One of Katy’s staff arrived
bearing meatloaf and french fries and an assortment of veggies smothered
in butter.

Mara settled down to dig into the food, but looked up in surprise when TJ appropriated her wine.

“Alcohol is bad for babies.” He carried the bottle back to the desk and sipped from the glass he’d taken from her.

Half a dozen arguments leapt futilely to her lips, but she
didn’t utter any of them. He said he needed time to adjust. She’d give
him a few days. That’s all she could afford.

“I’ve spent fifteen years studying bones of dead people,”
he continued without any prompting from her. “I’m discovering a
dismaying desire for life-affirming events. There’s too much death in
this world.”

Oh, damn. Mara rubbed her forehead but that didn’t stimulate her frozen brain. “There’s life all around us, TJ.”

“I know. And I know that life doesn’t have to be my baby.
Babies are born all the time.” He turned his back to her so she couldn’t
read the shadows of his face.

“Don’t you think this would be easier if we didn’t see each other?”
He wanted children.
She lost her appetite, but she picked at the food anyway. She wasn’t
eating for two. She would not kid herself into believing that.

“No. There’s no ‘easier’ to it.” Grimly, he settled into the wing chair by the fireplace and drained the wineglass.

This time, she bore the full brunt of his gaze. Damn, he was so strikingly large, so
male
sitting there like some arrogant prince weighing the woes of the world.
If he weren’t so darned full of integrity, she could almost resist him.

“Go back and visit my mother,” Mara said dryly. “Don’t get
me wrong. I love her. She loved us and took care of us and stood up for
us against all but my father. But the woman who brought me up is almost
totally gone now.”

He set the glass aside and rubbed his temples. “Your aunt isn’t afflicted. Grandparents? Anyone else?”