The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(58)

“Who?”

“Your good buddy, Mick. He and I are out on the town tonight. The two of us decided we needed some time off.”

“That’s great…” God, now she felt awful for interrupting him.

“You okay, Mad?” Before she could answer, he said, “Here, hold on a minute.” There was a rustling sound, then his voice was muffled as if he had his hand over the receiver. There were more noises and then when he came back on, the din had faded. “What’s wrong?”

She blew out her breath, wishing a whole lot of things were going better. “Spike was here in Newport after I docked, but I think you already know that. Because you told him I was coming in, didn’t you?”

There was a curse, then, “Yeah, I did. He said he positively needed to see you face to face and he asked me to keep quiet because he was afraid you’d bolt if you knew he was coming. I’m sorry, Mad. I felt like hell about it, I really did. But he sounded so—”

“It’s okay.” And she didn’t really fault Sean, especially not with all that regret in his voice. “But can you do me a favor?”

“Anything. My conscience is dying for redemption.”

“Can you call Spike and see if he’s okay?”

“Did it go that badly between you two?”

Yes. “No, it’s because of the storms. Spike left in them.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re getting hit here in Manhattan, too. Rotten weather tonight. But don’t worry, he’s a good driver.”

“He came on his bike, Sean.”

There was a tight silence. “I’m calling that idiot right now.”

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?”

“Absolutely. That damn fool idiot—”

As the connection cut off, Mad curled her phone up into her hand. And then realized she hadn’t given Sean her cell number. But no matter, she thought, it was no doubt logged in his caller ID.

Her phone rang right away and she answered it. Sean’s voice was sharp.

“Mad, I’m getting voice mail. I’m going to keep trying until I get through to him. I’ll call you as soon as I finish yelling at him to get off the damn road. Unless…you want me to have him call you?”

“No.”

Sean’s inhale was long; his exhale short and hard. “I had hoped things would work out for you two.”

“Thanks. But don’t tell him about this phone tree we’ve got going on, will you?”

“Mad—”

“I mean, all of this is a little high school, I realize. I just…yeah, I’d rather talk to you.” Before he could reply, she said, “Oh, and I guess I have two favors. The board meeting is the day after tomorrow. Do you think I could come stay with you? I was going to drive down to the city as soon as morning comes.”

“Sure. I’ll be at work, but you have a key. And listen, if you need help with the board materials, I’ll come home early.”

“That would be great.”

“Mad?”

“Yes?”

“Am I honestly forgiven for telling him how to find you?”

“Yes, Sean.” She smiled a little as she hung up.

It was awhile before she could get back on the bed and try to go through the board books. And even as she returned to the reading, a big part of her brain was focused on her cell phone. Which didn’t ring.

The night wore on and so did the storms. She must have fallen into a hazy half sleep because when her phone finally went off, she jerked awake and scrambled for the thing.

“Sean?” she said.

“He’s home safe. He called me back as soon as he got the first of my eight pissed-off messages. He was exhausted, said he was soaking wet and going straight to bed. But he’s fine.”

Thank God. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to break one of his legs when I see him next, just so you know. Now go back to sleep.”

“Good night, Sean.”

She hung up and looked at the clock. Two forty-eight in the morning.

He’d ridden all the way back. In the rain. With his forearm in rough shape.

Her instincts vibrated. No man put himself through a trip like that casually.

Something was missing in this picture, she thought, closing the books and turning off the light.

She just didn’t know what it was.

*

An hour or so after he got home, Spike rolled over in sheets that were tangled in his legs. He suspected he was awake, but as he opened his eyes, he wasn’t so sure.

He was…lying in a bed that was not his own. Except…wait, he’d been in this bed and in this room before, had seen the lace at the windows and the rose glow of the walls…he just couldn’t remember when or why—

Mad’s bedroom. Yes, this was where it had happened for them for the first time. Where he had gone to her and kissed her and taken her…

Images of them making love had his naked, aroused body twisting on the bed. He could feel her underneath him, giving way as he pressed inside of her. The rhythm…yes, the rhythm of the sex and the heat of her. She was here now with him and they were moving together, locked at the hips, with him about to—

Except then he was alone.