The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(32)

There was a long pause. “You haven’t invited me out in a while.”

“Your social life is the stuff of a Candace Bushnell novel. When are you ever free?” He looked out the window and made a note that the pear trees needed to be fertilized. “So you’ll come?”

“Actually…I wouldn’t mind a change of scenery. I’ll be there first thing tomorrow.”

When Richard hung up, he was smiling. Amelia was a good sister. Astonishingly attractive, for one thing, and she was finally losing that edge of hers, mellowing out, becoming involved in appropriate things down in the city like the Brooklyn Zoo and the Met and MOMA.

She also trusted that he’d take care of the business.

When their father had died, no restrictions had been set up for Amelia or Richard’s inheritances because, unlike Madeline, they’d been over twenty-one—the true age of majority in their father’s eyes. Almost immediately, Amelia had executed a durable power of attorney over her shares, granting Richard the right to vote them. In return, he gave her a generous allowance and invested the rest of her holdings wisely. To her credit, she was grateful to him and she had reason to be. In spite of her spending, she was richer now than she’d been just after she’d gotten her money.

So he didn’t worry about her. In fact, she was an asset. Particularly in a situation like this.

Amelia would show up at the house and Madeline would kick right into orbit: it was clear she was half in love with Spike, and if there was one sure way to drive a wedge between Madeline and a man, it was Amelia.

Yes…life was just like chess. It was all a matter of lining up the pieces and letting the play commence.

*

An hour or so later, Spike could not take his eyes off of Mad.

Which wasn’t exactly a newsflash.

In the midst of a room full of talking people, she was the only one he saw, and not just because she was standing right next to him. She was wearing the same black knit dress she’d had on at Sean’s and she looked better than ever in it, the simple lines showing off her body’s strength as well as its curves. Her hair was flowing down her back and he had to put his free hand in his pocket to keep from brushing over the dark waves.

Strange, though. She honestly had no idea that she was beautiful. Even as all the men looked at her, lingered around her, tried to get up the nerve to talk to her, she didn’t seem to notice. The disassociation made him angry on her behalf. How many times must she have been browbeaten by the men in her family to be so removed from how attractive she was?

“Here comes Richard,” she murmured, taking a sip of her Chardonnay.

Spike glanced to the right and didn’t like the look in the man’s eyes as the guy approached. Her half brother was way too pleased with himself. And there was someone behind him.

Richard stopped in front of Mad. “Madeline, I’d like to introduce you to the chairman of my board, Charles Barker.”

Now that guy is right out of central casting, Spike thought. Barker was total chairman material: white haired with wire-rimmed glasses and all suited up in black pinstripes even though it was summer. His eyes were as sharp as his screaming red power tie.

Mad offered her hand. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Barker.”

“Call me Charles.” The smile was quick. So was the shake. “I understand you sail. Do you know my son, Charles? He races off Newport.”

Mad’s eyes flared. “You’re Chuck Barker’s father?”

“I am.” Now Barker smiled widely. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Chuckie’s a fabulous helmsman! Were you on shore when he and his team won last year’s Mem Day relay off Newport?”

Barker let out a guffaw that was a total surprise. And then positively glowed with pride. “I was. We have a house there.”

“God, I thought Chuckie was going to capsize. I really did. But he held his line. He’s really going to be a great competitor one day.”

As the two of them kept on chatting, Spike glanced at Richard. The guy was watching the exchange, like he couldn’t wait to jump in and break it up.

“So what are you preparing for now?” Barker asked Mad.

“She wants to join our board,” Richard drawled. “In her spare time.”

The chairman cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a shift from sailing.”

Mad nodded. “It is. But I’m interested in the company.”

Barker shook his head. “Well, there’s a lot of moving parts to it. Lot of tedium, too. The monthly financials alone are the size of the phone book.”

Richard smiled. “I told her that.”

When? Spike wondered. Not that he’d heard.

Barker put his hand on Mad’s shoulder. “I can’t imagine it’s as exciting as what you do for a living.” He glanced at Richard. “Surely you can continue to free her up to enjoy the sea?”

Richard nodded gravely. “That’s the best thing for everyone. And I know Madeline wouldn’t want to slow things down at the top while she tries to get up to speed.”

Mad smiled, nice and tight. “I think you’ll be surprised at how fast I can go.”

Charles laughed. “Oh, that we know. I saw how you and Alex Moorehouse handled the last America’s Cup. Amazing! But listen, forget about the Corporate America stuff and concentrate on those boats. Your country needs you! We’ve got to keep that trophy away from the Aussies.”