The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(63)

When Richard and his management team had finished fielding questions about the proposal, Barker cleared his throat and spoke in a flat voice. “I’m asking for a vote on whether to proceed with the proposed acquisition of the Organi-Foods Corporation. All those in favor, say ‘aye.’”

Mad was the first to speak up. “Aye. And I have a proxy to vote my sister’s shares, as well. They are in the affirmative also.”

Richard just about fell out of his chair. And so did Barker. In fact, a ripple of gasps went through the boardroom.

Mad sat back in her chair and met all the stares coming at her calmly. The voting continued, but the decision had been made. By her and Amelia putting their shares behind the merger, it was a done deal.

Various technicalities were discussed and then the meeting was adjourned. She was out the door the moment Barker rapped the table with the tip of his Montblanc pen.

She’d made it all the way to the elevators by the time Richard rushed up to her and took her elbow.

“Madeline,” he said. And then he seemed to stall out. In the background, the post-meeting chatter spilled out of the conference room.

“Yes?”

“Why didn’t you oppose me?”

She shifted her board materials around to break his hold on her and punched the down button on the wall. “Because it’s not about you. It’s about the right thing for the company. Your business assumptions are correct. If we don’t expand we can’t compete, and with increased volume sales, we can offer better discounts. Barker can’t seem to see this for some reason. Which tells me he’s probably not the right person to chair the board.”

Richard’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head as the elevator doors opened.

She got in and turned to face him. “You, Richard, are a nasty piece of work. You always have been. But you happen to have incredible business sense. As CEO of our father’s company, you’re in the right role. Just bear this in mind. I’m voting Amelia’s shares from now on as well as my own. And if I don’t think you’re the right man for the job, I’m going to fire your ass in a heartbeat. Now, I want an analysis on the prospective, post-merger market opportunities delivered to my post office box in Manhattan the day after tomorrow. Goodbye, Richard.”

After the double doors closed, she sagged against the mahogany paneling.

She supposed she should have felt triumph or satisfaction or a rush of power. Instead, she was fixated on one thing and one thing only.

Getting to Spike.





Chapter Sixteen




“What the hell are you doing here?”

As Spike walked into the White Caps’s kitchen, he shot his partner a dry look. “Nate, my man, I’ve got to do something. Can’t sit on it any longer.”

“You’ve got a third-degree on your wrist. You’ve been off forty-eight hours.”

“Like I said, I’ll roll napkins. But I can’t sit at home.”

Nate’s eyes narrowed, but then he smiled. “Fine. Go into the back room and work that paper. We’ve got bills to process.”

Spike winced. “You are such a bastard.”

“And you can still go home.”

Spike perpetrated an ungentlemanly gesture, got a kiss blown in return and then went into the office.

Standing in the doorway, he faced off at the piles of bills and other business-related paper nightmares on the desk. He would almost rather be at home doing nothing. Almost.

Man, this was like choosing between watching paint dry and copying the phone book in longhand.

He went over and sat in the creaky wooden chair, only to stare out the window. The sun was low in the sky, setting over the far mountain range, and down below, Saranac Lake was smooth as glass. The reflection off the water was a molten peach.

He rubbed his chest. He was lonely. He missed Mad—

Damn it, there had to be some way of getting her out of his mind.

Spike looked at the desk. Paperwork. Maybe that would do the ticket. Maybe he could just bore the preoccupation right out of his head.

*

At ten o’clock that night, Mad stopped the Viper in front of a large Victorian that was just off Saranac Lake’s town square. The trip upstate had taken her about four and a half hours. She barely remembered a minute of it.

What a nice house, she thought as she looked at the facade. And so homey, at least from the outside. She would have expected Spike to live in something more modern.

She stepped out and glanced up to a small porch under a cupola at the building’s very top. The glow in the window beyond reassured her that even though she didn’t see the Harley, maybe he was in.

The front door to the house opened easily and she double-checked the mailboxes. Sean had told her that Spike lived in the uppermost apartment and sure enough, there it was: Moriarty, 3rd floor.

She took the broad stairs all the way up and knocked.

“Who is it?” a female voice said through the door.

Mad frowned. “Oh…I’m sorry. I thought that Spike Moriarty lived here.”

Or maybe he did and he wasn’t alone. Her heart started to pound. Good God…what if he was with a woman right this very moment?

As she began to panic in earnest, there was a clicking sound while a lock was turned and then the door opened as far as a brass chain would allow. A petite woman with brown hair looked out. Her eyes, behind glasses, were some kind of blue.