The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(46)

They stayed locked together for the longest time, his hands smoothing gently up and down her back. Dizzy, disconnected from everything but him, she burrowed into his neck, rubbing her face in the short hair at his nape. The air between their bodies was a heady perfume, mingling with the summer night.

I love you, she thought.

And even though it was stupid, she wanted to tell him anyway. Probably because after what they’d just done, she was comfortable being reckless.

“Spike,” she whispered.

“What?” His voice was husky.

“I—”

From over Spike’s shoulder, she saw a pair of headlights come over the hill.

“Oh, my God!” She leaped off him and yanked her blouse into place, her skirt fluttering down where it needed to be. She grabbed for his pants, but the car was already slowing down, lights trained on her.

She looked behind her, expecting to see Spike half-naked and cupping his manhood. Instead there was nothing but the bike. Where had he—

The sedan pulled up and its driver’s side window went down. An older gentleman smiled at her with concern.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

The white-haired woman beside him in the car leaned around. “Do you need a ride somewhere, dear?”

Mad shook her head and tried to look unruffled. “Oh, no. I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

The man didn’t seem convinced. “That’s an awfully big bike for a woman to handle by herself.”

Mad glanced at the Harley. “Yes…ah…”

She brought her arms up and linked them across her chest.

The woman in the car laughed softly. “Come on, Jim. Let’s leave her.”

The man looked over at who was undoubtedly his wife. “That’s not right—”

“She’s not alone, Jim.”

Mad glanced down…and realized a pair of very long, very man-size slacks were still attached to her hand.

She wasn’t sure whether Jim blushed more or she did. And the gentleman cleared his throat awkwardly, though his wife was looking amused in a nostalgic way.

“Evenin’, then,” the husband said.

“Thanks for stopping,” Mad replied. After they took off, she hissed, “Spike? Where are you?”

Spike popped out from behind a massive oak and planted his hands on his hips. He chuckled wryly.

“If any of this green stuff is poison ivy, I’m in deep trouble.”





Chapter Eleven




The following morning, the first thing that went through Spike’s mind was that he wanted to make it work with Mad. Or at least give it a shot.

It was crazy to let this thing with her go. No way he was going to find anyone else like her so she was worth taking the chance of coming forward again.

She was the one for him. And he was head over heels.

Man, the night before, when he’d watched her walk down to her own bedroom by herself, he’d had to fight to keep from following her. And it wasn’t about sex. He wanted to sleep next to her. Wake up with her. Loll around in bed as the sun rose, talking about nothing with her.

Maybe if he told her about his past, she could accept it, accept him. And as for her sailing schedule, he was willing to wait for her on land while she did her thing. The distance would kill him…but it wasn’t like he could see himself with anyone else.

Spike rubbed the back of his neck, anxious as hell now that he’d decided to try to talk with her. How would she take what he’d done? If he explained what had happened, would she see him as a monster? He didn’t know how he would handle that.

And when should he spring it on her? Maybe he should wait until it was time to go and ask her to spend a couple of days with him. They could get away, go some place quiet like a B&B. He could hold her and talk to her and then they could—

He thought about what they’d done on his Harley and broke out in a hot sweat. Yeah, maybe they could do some more of that, too.

Time for a shower. Definitely.

Ten minutes later, he was about to get dressed when he heard a knock. Cinching the towel around his waist a little tighter, and hoping like hell it was Mad, he opened the door.

Amelia was on the other side dressed in a white satin robe. “I’m sorry to bother you, but may I talk to you for a moment?”

He frowned. “Give me a minute to get dressed.”

The second the words left him he thought, Why had she come at the crack of dawn? Something wasn’t right. “Actually, now’s not a good time.”

“It won’t take long.”

He was about to say no when the woman’s eyes got to him. They were dark with raw pain. Regret. Sadness. In fact, she looked as if she were going to burst into tears.

He stepped back and she came in. Mindful of what Mad had said about the woman, Spike left the door open and grabbed for his button-down shirt. Last thing he needed was Mad’s half sister all over him.

“What’s this about?” he asked, pulling the shirt on and crossing the two halves over his chest.

Amelia’s words were rushed, as if she’d practiced them. Maybe for quite a while. “I’ve made some terrible mistakes. Done things I need to apologize for. Things that were cruel.”

“To Mad.”

“Yes, to Madeline. And to others. Last night, I went to her room before dinner to apologize. Although even if you hadn’t interrupted us, I doubt she would have heard me out.”