Almost Perfect (31 page)

“They'll go, whether you want it or not,” he said matter-of-factly. “They may come back, but with the Perv gone, they may not. Not while your family is here.”

He knew them as well as Cleo did. She nodded agreement. “I almost wish Social Services had come and taken them and got it over with.” It tore her gut to say it, but the sooner they were ripped out of her life, the better for all concerned. She'd been risking Matty and her stability by playing with fire—again. If only she could learn to really wall herself off …

Jared rubbed her cheek gently, as he had earlier, reminding her he was there for her without embarrassing her with a more affectionate display. “Tell me what you want me to do, Cleo. If the beach house is still standing, I can camp out there and keep an eye on them.” The pressure of his fingers became a little stronger as he forced her to look at him. “Or I can book a flight to New York and take care of business. I can wait until your family leaves, if you will go with me.”

Oh damn. Oh double damn. There it was, the decision that had to come sometime. It might as well be now, while her insides were already ripped to shreds, and she wouldn't feel it as much. Sort of like having one hand chopped off and sacrificing the other since the pain was already so bad.

“I won't go with you,” she told him flatly, not meeting the look in his eyes but concentrating on holding herself together while the whole world watched. “Go take care of business. We'll be fine.”

She was certain he stared at her for an eternity. His hand dropped away, and she could feel that first cold rush of air breaching the connection between them.
Go,
she urged silently,
go before I lose it right here and now
.

As if hearing her plea, Jared ran a reassuring hand up and down her arm. “I'll be back, Cleo. It's not over.”

He strode down the steps and out of sight, and she was certain she would never see him again. He'd come to his senses once he was gone.

Cleo's happy family had apparently stopped the RV somewhere on the road. They hadn't reached Cleo's place by the time Jared let Kismet and Gene out in the drive. Fearing for their safety at the beach until he'd had time to inspect the damage, he couldn't take them with him.

Driving the Jeep through the muck and debris of the narrow lane, he rather missed the shrieking witch. Cleo had turned off the system when even the bouncing sign only halfheartedly lifted from the debris littering the road.

Reaching his drive only to be confronted by a mountain of driftwood, sand, and washed-up palmettos, he halted short of the beach. Cleo wouldn't need her trespasser deterrents with the road cut off like this.

Leaving his laptop in the car and locking the door, Jared climbed the treacherous barrier and slid down the other side. At least it looked as if the house had weathered the storm in one piece. Maybe he could stay here until Cleo's family left. His request for her to travel with
him at a time like this had made her nervous, he realized. He understood anxiety far better than he used to. He felt as if he had electrodes attached to all his nerve endings, which shorted out every time he thought of Cleo.

Maybe she was right, and whatever this was between them wasn't worth their energy. If this was love, it was hell. He didn't like being jerked around by invisible wires. He had too many other things on his mind. He didn't have time to wheedle Cleo around to his way of thinking. And why should he cater to the obstinate woman?

All the rationalizing in the world couldn't hide the fact that he was a stubborn ass who wouldn't give up when he wanted something. And he wanted Cleo.

The damage to the beach house was more obvious as he approached. The sand dune on the shore had all but disappeared, and waves lapped a few hundred yards from the door. Half the dune had shifted to the porch. The storm had ripped shutters from windows, and shards of glass caught the last rays of twilight. The new roof had held, but one of the front dormers had crumbled under the stress of wind, leaving a gaping hole in his bedroom.

Using a stick of driftwood to remove the shattered pane from a lower window, Jared climbed over the sill. He had picked up his duffel at Cleo's, but he needed clean clothes if he intended to travel.

Now that he saw there wasn't any danger, he wished he'd brought Gene with him. He worried the kid would take off through the woods before Cleo returned. He'd promised to drive them to check on their mother after he examined the damage here, but Jared knew the kids were impatient. Maybe he wasn't handling this right.

He probably wasn't good father material anyway. L.A. wasn't a place to raise kids, and his future was in L.A. He hoped. He could only handle so much denial at a time.

He threw some clothes in the duffel, the ones that weren't a sodden lump on the bedroom floor. Maybe he'd better call Marta and have her send someone out to board up the broken windows so the kids wouldn't hurt themselves trying to get in. Cleo would be too occupied with family to think of it. To think of him.

He didn't know why her rejection hurt so much. He had expected it, after all. Cleo was Cleo. There wasn't any changing her.

Matty had changed her without even trying.

Cursing, Jared climbed out the first-floor window again, duffel in hand. He'd finish his business and come back to hack this out with Cleo once her family departed.

Returning to the Jeep, Jared discovered Axell lounging against the hood, arms crossed, waiting for him. Matty stood on the Jeep's roof, eyes wide at the sight of the surf lapping so close to the road. Grimacing, Jared heaved his duffel into the backseat. Casually, so as not to show how hard he really wanted to try, he handed a starfish to the boy, who squealed in delight at the gift. Then propping his shoulder against the back door, Jared adopted the same antagonistic stance as Axell. Axell didn't look impressed.

“Where are the kids?” the big man demanded.

“If they're not in the house, then they're just where I told Cleo they would go. Home.” Jared figured that wasn't the real question here, but he'd let Axell get it out. He wasn't helping him any.

At Matty's request, Jared turned and lifted the boy down. “Don't go out of sight,” he warned. “There could be sharks in the sand.”

The boy turned big green eyes up to him—Cleo's eyes—and Jared nearly melted on the spot. At the boy's disbelieving giggle at the idea of sand sharks, he let him go, too stunned to do more.

“He's a great kid,” Axell said as Matty scampered to investigate the dune of debris. “Cleo will worry herself into an early grave trying to shelter him from all harm.”

Jared was inclined to agree, but it wasn't his place to say so. Relieved to set aside the intensity of his sudden emotion for Cleo's son, he replied laconically, “She has her reasons.”

“As long as you understand that.” Axell shoved his hands in his pockets and tried to look nonchalant. “Is the house reparable?”

“Probably, once a bulldozer plows through. The windows need boarding up or the kids are likely to hurt themselves climbing in.” He had to book a flight to New York, drive to the airport in Charleston, and call half a dozen people. He didn't have time for this.

He'd have to make time if he was serious about Cleo.

“Cleo says you're going back to New York.”

Jared almost smiled at the threat in the Viking god's tone. “For two days. And I offered to take her with me. Unless you're planning on telling me the secret to handling Cleo, butt out, okay? As Cleo says, we have issues. They take time.”

Axell eyed him speculatively. “I'm amazed Cleo hasn't eaten through your tender hide. I think she chews nails for breakfast.”

Knowing the other man didn't mean harm, Jared let the insult go. “I wouldn't have made it as far as I have in my career without a tough hide. That's not our problem here.”

They both looked at the boy contentedly sitting in the mud, digging out some buried treasure.

Axell nodded briefly. “She'll sacrifice anything or anyone for him.”

“If I ever have kids, that's the kind of mother I want for them,” Jared said quietly.

“You're leaving because of us, then?” Axell relaxed his defensive posture and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah. I figure Cleo will let me know when she's ready to let me into Matty's life. Right now she has more trouble than she can handle with her neighbor. If you're here to keep an eye on things, it should be safe for me to make a quick trip. I should be back Monday night.”

“Pirate bones!” Matty crowed upon discovering unexpected treasure.

Amused by the boy's imagination, relieved at the interruption, Jared turned to see what he'd found. His jaw dropped at the sight of the leg bone Matty waved at them. He'd seen enough of Tim's textbooks to recognize human remains.

Axell uttered a muffled curse. “How do I pry
that
from him?” he asked rhetorically, striding toward the boy even as he asked.

“By calling the sheriff?” Boy, Cleo would lose it for certain. Maybe he'd better stay. He was looking for excuses to stay. Pirate bones worked.

With both men praising him for his discovery, Matty willingly relinquished the gray and brittle bone for their admiration, but it took a little more persuasion to prevent him from digging for more.

“Probably an old graveyard,” Axell murmured, hauling the boy away from the mound and toward the house. “Happens all the time around here. I'll have someone look into it.”

Deflected by that reasoning, left holding the bone while a pleasant sea breeze lifted his hair, Jared wondered if he'd ever possess the other man's confidence that the world was a safe, sane place. For Cleo's sake, he'd have to. He grimaced at the grisly remnant in his hand. What the hell would he do with it?

As Matty waved back at him, Jared smiled and relaxed. He could do this. He wouldn't let anyone tell him otherwise.

“Jared, you must be out of your mind. You can't
do
this.” Virginia McCloud stared at her son in dismay.

Ash-brown hair styled and cut for a minimum of care and a maximum of elegance, tailored suit fitted to a figure maintained by a daily exercise regimen, his mother was everything Cleo was not, Jared noted with interest. Perhaps he ought to get counseling to understand the psychology behind that.

“I already have, Mom. The apartment is sold and the movers are hauling the furniture off to storage as we speak.” He dug into his seafood pasta with a healthy appetite now that he had one less worry. He'd outgrown his need for the Manhattan playboy lifestyle anyway.

“Well, this is always your home, dear,” his mother said doubtfully. “I'm sure if your market losses are that severe—”

The front door slammed. “Hey, Jared, you here? Mom said you were back.” Jared's computer genius younger brother ambled in, his eyes sharp and discerning as he encountered the luncheon tête-à-tête.

“Your brother has sold his apartment, dear.” With an imperturbable air, Virginia gestured toward a chair. “He has some foolish notion of returning to that hovel in the South.”

Instead of sitting, Thomas Clayton McCloud leaned his square shoulders against the door frame, crossed his arms, and lifted his eyebrows in the distinctive family expression. “Couldn't take the ice queens up here any longer, could you, bro? Are the Southern belles any hotter?”

Two years younger than Jared, with their mother's ash-brown hair and their father's gray eyes, Thomas was
the fair-haired boy the ladies swooned over. Unfortunately, his overgrown brain had given him a cynicism Jared couldn't maintain if his life depended on it. He figured Doubting Thomas would die a confirmed bachelor before admitting the existence of love and romance.

“Hot enough for me,” Jared said placidly, spearing another shrimp. “Have you patented the graphics program? I can't find a flaw in it.”

Clay drew up a chair, straddled it, grabbed Jared's salad fork, and helped himself to the pasta on his brother's plate. “Patented, and if all goes well, distributed next spring. Get famous in the film industry, old boy. I can use the endorsement.”

Get famous. Right. He should be so lucky.

“Thomas, stop that. Where did you learn such appalling manners?” Virginia smacked her son's hand and rang for a maid. “Pull your chair up correctly and I'll have a plate brought for you.”

Jared spared his brother an understanding glance. “Congrats, kid. Even if you don't hear it elsewhere, I'm proud of you and think you're a genius. I might even admit we're related upon occasion.”

Clay hooted, but Jared thought he'd scored points. It was about time someone in this family recognized their personal achievements instead of their public awards.

After seeing Cleo with her family, he wondered what she would think of his family's inability to relate to one another, but he couldn't picture Cleo even sitting down at a table that harbored his overachiever mother. They'd despise each other on sight. Well, that could result in some interesting holiday fireworks.

“Hey, bro, you're drifting away. Surely you're not dreaming of the cute chick with the kids, are you? Those kinds are just looking for an easy meal ticket.”

Miraculously, Jared recognized Clay's unease for the
concern it was and didn't belt him one. He saw no good way to reassure him, especially since he couldn't discern whether Cleo or Gene and Kismet were his brother's biggest fear. If he and Cleo married, could they adopt the kids?