The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(11)

“Thank you,” Mad said to Spike, hoping to catch his eye.

He nodded to her and went back to the stove, making an omelet for himself while he cleaned up. By the time he sat down, Sean had finished eating and she was disciplining herself not to finish what was on her plate.

“Best omelet I’ve ever had,” Sean said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “You wanna get married?”

Spike shot him that half-mast grin. “What kind of ring will you get me?”

“Cartier?”

“Try Harry Winston. Four carats, minimum. And I want baguettes.”

“Hard bargain. Very hard bargain.”

“Have you had my leg of lamb yet?”

Sean’s fist hit the table. “Rotten scoundrel. Plying me with inducements.”

“I make the mint jelly myself.”

“Fine. But I want you in a dress. No bride of mine’s walking down the aisle in combat boots.”

The two of them kept up the bantering and she let their deep voices fade into the background.

She wasn’t at all sure she could stand up to Richard. Her half brother excelled at making her feel small, and yes, she let him do it to her. The trouble was, whenever she was around him, she felt like the five-year-old he’d picked on and it was hard to remember she was a grown-up.

So maybe it was time to slay the dragon, she thought. She was a professional with her own life, an adult in the world who was doing well. And those shares were the only thing her father had ever given her except for some serious self-esteem issues. Even if Richard was a peach, she should be responsible for what was hers.

“You can’t come with me, can you?” she asked Sean abruptly. “To Greenwich.”

The men’s conversation halted.

“No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

She nodded. “I didn’t think so. It’s just…Even without the business stuff, a holiday weekend with my half brother is going to be grueling.”

“What you need is an armed escort.”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Someone big. And tough…”

“You thinking Robocop tough or Arnold tough?”

“Let’s get into this decade, shall we? Think Wolverine.”

“Arnold’s better.”

She smiled. “Are we talking T2 Arnold?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to send you into the sunset with the mean one.”

Mad laughed, wondering why Sean had never settled down. He was such a nice guy behind those chilly eyes. But every since she’d met him when he’d started working with Value Shop’s management team ten years ago he’d always been single.

*

While Mad and Sean batted action heroes back and forth, Spike finished his omelet and wiped his mouth. He was stone tired, but very alert.

God, that dream.

Sometime early this morning, he’d had a powerhouse of a fantasy about Mad. They’d been on a beach and tangled in each other’s bodies, kissing and stroking and moving. She had been the single most amazing woman he’d ever been with.

Which was not a surprise.

As he remembered where they had been and what they’d done in his mind, he had the odd sense that he was being assessed. He looked up.

Sean was staring at him and the man seemed very serious.

“What? You want another omelet?” Spike asked.

Sean looked across the table at Mad and cocked an eyebrow. She shook her head.

“Go on,” Sean said softly.

“What?” Spike put his napkin down.

Sean nodded at Mad, as if urging her on. She cleared her throat.

“Ah, would you come with me?” she asked. “To my family’s house for Memorial Day weekend? My half brother will be there and there are a couple of parties scheduled. You know, typical holiday stuff.”

Spike frowned, thinking it was clear she wasn’t looking forward to being with her relatives. So why would she want to add to the burden by bringing a stranger with her?

Then he thought of the way she’d looked him over when she’d heard he was a French chef. Right, he thought. What better way to get back at her high-flying family than to show up at the house with a roughneck like him?

Man, this shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, he thought. It really shouldn’t.

“Not my bag. Sorry.”

Sean spoke up. “Come on, you’re perfect hero material, buddy.”

“She’s looking for a freak, not a hero, aren’t you Madeline.” Spike heard a little gasp as he rose from the table, but he ignored the sound as he carried his plate to the sink. “And while I can’t deny I look the part, she needs to find some other fringe element to use. Hey, maybe she could just buy a weirdo of her own. She’s got the cash, I’m sure. And that way, all she has to do is let him out of the closet any time she wants to shake things up.”

He thought he caught another soft inhale, but he didn’t let it stop him on the way to the door.

“Have a safe trip to Japan, Sean. I’ll call you. And thanks for the bed.”

Spike grabbed his jacket out of the closet, slipped it on and got in the elevator. He was through the lobby and out on Park Avenue before he heard his name being shouted. He glanced behind him. Sean was jogging over the pavement in his bare feet. And he was pissed.