The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(29)

Yeah, maybe she was over-thinking.

And as for him not wanting a relationship, that wasn’t a big surprise. It was obvious if he needed a woman, he could find one. He just had no use for a female in his life on a permanent basis.

For some reason, that hurt. Probably because what had happened between them the night before had been very special to her, but was no doubt just standard operating procedure for him.

God, she was such a romantic, wasn’t she?

Mad shifted closer against him, linking her hands around his stomach, bringing her breasts flat against his back. As she thought about kissing him, feeling his body against hers, getting lost in his strength and his heat, the situation between them grew treacherously simple, dangerously clear.

She wasn’t going to find that kind of passion anytime soon with someone else.

He was with her now.

And life was to be lived.

As temptation rose, it eclipsed even the thundering sound and the vibrations of the bike.

*

It was over lunch that Spike realized Mad didn’t eat.

For the past half hour, they’d been sitting with Richard and Penelope in a sun-filled solarium. As talk had focused on the New York foodie scene, Mad had pushed her chicken salad around, cut up the lettuce leaves under it, fooled with the stuffed tomato on the side…and hadn’t lifted her fork to her lips once.

As the butler cleared the dishes, she smiled at the man and shook her head when he asked if she wanted fruit for dessert. Then she tapped her iced tea glass for a refill.

Spike thought of all the coffee she’d had with breakfast. The woman was running on caffeine and not much else. And he might have been able to understand it if she was just uncomfortable around her half brother. But Richard hadn’t been at the café this morning.

Penelope put her napkin down. “Will you excuse me? I’m going to go get ready to head to the club.”

“I’ll meet you in front in twenty minutes,” Richard said.

“I’ll be prompt.” She smiled, patted his hand, and walked purposely out of the room.

Richard glanced over at Spike. “Will you give me a moment alone with my sister?”

Spike looked at Mad and cocked an eyebrow. When she shook her head slowly, he leaned back in his chair and got good and damned comfortable.

Richard’s annoyance was obvious, but then he shrugged a little and produced a leather, legal-size folio from under his chair. He slid the thing across the glass table and put a black fountain pen on top of it.

“What is this?” Mad asked.

“I’ve done you a favor. It keeps the status quo with respect to your trust. I had my secretary flag where you need to sign in case you couldn’t figure out what those lines at the end were for.”

Oh, hell, no, Spike thought. No one took that kind of attitude with Mad, not while he was in the room.

He opened his mouth, but Mad put her hand on his arm and stopped him. “Richard, I have something I need to say.”

“Then perhaps you should talk to a mirror.” Richard got up, checked his watch and let his napkin fall into his seat. “I’m off to play golf now. Oh, and the guests arrive tonight at six. Please be on time. It should be easier for you as there won’t be any traffic.”

“Richard, I need you to listen—”

The man turned his back on her and headed out of the room, talking over his shoulder. “I want those signed now so they can be couriered to my lawyer in the city. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Mad shot to her feet. “Richard.”

Her half brother stopped and pivoted on his loafers. His face was frozen, as if he’d never heard that tone of voice before and didn’t like it.

Showdown time, Spike thought, glad he was in the room.

Richard’s eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon.”

“I’m not signing these.” Mad put her hand on top of the folio.

“Excuse me?”

“In fact, I’m filing to remove you as executor.”

The change in the man was eerie. For a split second, his eyes flashed with fury, then no emotion showed in his face at all. “Why would you want to do that, Madeline?”

“It’s time I took over my shares. Nothing more.”

“Why now?”

“It’s just…time.”

“You don’t know anything about business.”

“I’ll learn.”

“How? On one of your boats?”

“Yes.”

“You are aware, are you not, that Value Shop is a billion-dollar-a-year enterprise.”

“Whether it’s that or a mom and pop store, the shares are mine. I want to be responsible for them.”

“You haven’t earned the right to vote them. You don’t know a P&L from a paper clip.” He smiled, as if she were a five-year-old who was asking to eat crayons for dinner. “Why don’t you stay out on the ocean where you belong and leave the business and the numbers to people who can handle them.”

Spike couldn’t keep his mouth shut a moment longer. “How about you dial down that tone of voice, buddy?”

“Perhaps you’ll do me the favor of keeping out of this,” Richard snapped.

Spike rose to his feet. “Like I said, lose the edge when you speak to her, my man.”