Free Carolina Girl by Patricia Rice

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yourself? Cash flow! Imagine that. Ah’ll be certain to keep that in mind
come election day.”
    Clay could hear the fury behind her syrupy drawl and
wondered if it was the insult or the danger to her hidden agenda that raised
it. She might tickle his hormones, but that didn’t mean she’d fried
his brains into forgetting she had something up her sleeve besides turtles.
    “You won’t be here come election day,”
Jeff shouted in frustration, “and your swamp rats don’t vote. Drop
it, Rora, and do everyone a favor. The park will bring in business, and
there’s no reason to block progress.”
    Thinking the balled-up fist at Aurora’s side probably
wasn’t a good sign, although he applauded the emotion behind it, Clay
sauntered over to join the fray. He wasn’t much on politics, but he
suspected Aurora’s anger didn’t bode well for the turtles if she
was already antagonizing the people whose aid they needed.
    “I’ll have to tell Jared the locals call him a
swamp rat,” he offered as both combatants turned at his approach.
“I’m sure he can turn that into a juicy item for his strip. He wields
a mean pen.”
    “Your brother is a property owner, so he doesn’t
qualify as a rat,” Aurora explained in a tight voice. “Jeff’s
referring to my father and Grandma Iris and the squatters out there. Homeless
people, they call them in the city. Except here they have homes. They just
don’t pay for them.”
    He really didn’t want to get into that.
He’d much rather punch smug Mr. GQ in his square jaw. He
couldn’t remember ever wasting energy in street brawls, but he flexed his
muscles menacingly, just to keep GQ in his place. He couldn’t
think of anything to add to the conversation, so he just watched the worm
wiggle in silence.
    Aurora picked up on his vibrations instantly. Clay bit back
a snicker at the evil eye she gave him, but she made the introductions without
comment. “Jeff, Clay McCloud. Clay is the state’s computer expert
for the park. Clay, Jeff Spencer. He’s an officer of the Community Bank
and on the zoning commission.”
    “The commission is elected?” Clay asked with
feigned ignorance.
    “Of course not,” they both answered in unison,
looking at him as if he were an ignoramus.
    Again Aurora caught on quickly. Clay didn’t think she
was admiring his unfastened denim vest or bare chest with the look she shot
him, but he smirked as if she had. She rolled her eyes and returned to the
debate. He was getting a kick out of matching wits with a woman who could see
right through him—and who didn’t mind looking.
    “Jeff is running for town council. I asked him to
support our petition against rezoning the island until an environmental study
can be done.”
    He didn’t know they had a petition, but he was sure
they’d have one the minute they got out of this street. “Fair
enough. I’ll get Cleo on it. C’mon, we’ll go talk to her. She
knows all the swamp rats and every other rodent up and down the coast. Great
meeting you, Jeffy!”
    Not giving the puffed-up banker a chance to retaliate, Clay
grasped Aurora’s elbow and all but dragged her out of the middle of the
road to the shaded sidewalk. Keeping the momentum, he marched her back up the
road to the hardware store. He figured she was too steamed to speak, and
he’d like to keep it that way as long as possible.
    Actually, he kind of liked holding her elbow and having her
match him stride for stride. Upon occasion he’d absentmindedly outwalked
frilly women who minced about in high heels.
    He was much too conscious of Aurora’s in-your-face
presence to forget her. Her floral fragrance wafted around him, and he sneaked
a peek at the way her thigh-high skirt slid up her leg. He was damned glad she didn’t
wear jeans like every other woman in the universe. Pity it wasn’t a
little leather number instead of another of her business suits. If he kept his
thoughts purely on sex, he wouldn’t have to wonder what in hell