A Man in a Million Read online

  Abruptly, she focused on Sean. “Why are you looking so tense?”

  “Frankly, I’m walking a whole lot of ethical and legal lines right now.”

  “But you’re our investment banker. You’re supposed to advise us.”

  “I’m the corporation’s investment banker. And the CEO of that corporation, namely your half brother, could argue that I’m undermining him by advocating that you establish some independent control over your block of shares.”

  She winced at the implications, not wanting to cause Sean problems. “Well, I’m glad you brought it up. But Richard…Richard is going to hate not being executor. He’s going to—”

  “You can stand up to him. I know you can.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that, but Sean had a point and she was glad he had told her about the trust’s provisions. Except what did she do now?

  “Mad, I have a lawyer friend of mine I want you to go see. His name’s Mick Rhodes. I’ve briefed him on the situation, and as soon as you pull the trigger on him, he’ll have the necessary documents drafted. Then you go see Richard. I know he’s going to be in Greenwich next weekend for Memorial Day. Go to him there rather than to his office and don’t bring Mick with you. Richard will view it as an act of aggression if you show up with your attorney. You want to approach him as his sweet, younger sister and then at 9:00 a.m. on your birthday, Mick will go and file the papers and it will all be over.”

  “But do I have to go see Richard? Why can’t a lawyer just take care of the whole thing?”

  “You’re going to have to deal with the man at some point, why wait? You might as well not have this hanging over your head. And don’t worry, I’ve heard Amelia’s out of the country until the middle of June. She won’t be there.”

  Mad pictured her half brother. Richard was razor-sharp, mentally and verbally. And she was quite sure some kind of liquid disdain pumped through his veins instead of blood.

  “Legally he can’t stop me, right?”

  “I don’t believe so, but he’ll probably file a motion to block the change by arguing against your fitness as executor.”

  Probably? Try definitely. Richard hated losing and he fought dirty. Always had.

  “But Mad, Mick will know how to deal with that.”

  “All right…I’ll go to the lawyer right away.”

  Sean pulled her into his arms. “It’s going to be okay. And I promise you, Mick’s the best. He’ll eat your brother alive if he has to. And enjoy every single bite.”

  Mad grimaced and murmured, “Half brother.”

  They stayed together for a time, with her wishing all the while she was Sean’s sister instead.

  When they returned to the kitchen, Spike was working over the stove, spectacular smells wafting up from all the pans he had going. He didn’t look over as she and Sean sat down, but a few minutes later, two plates appeared on the table. On them were perfect omelets that looked out-of-the-world delicious.

  “Oh, man, this is some serious beautiful,” Sean said, Boston accent resurfacing. It seemed to do that when he was either really angry or really at ease.

  “Thank you,” Mad said to Spike, hoping to catch his eye.

  He nodded to her and went back to the stove, making an omelet for himself while he cleaned up. By the time he sat down, Sean had finished eating and she was disciplining herself not to finish what was on her plate.

  “Best omelet I’ve ever had,” Sean said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. “You wanna get married?”

  Spike shot him that half-mast grin. “What kind of ring will you get me?”

  “Cartier?”

  “Try Harry Winston. Four carats, minimum. And I want baguettes.”

  “Hard bargain. Very hard bargain.”

  “Have you had my leg of lamb yet?”

  Sean’s fist hit the table. “Rotten scoundrel. Plying me with inducements.”

  “I make the mint jelly myself.”

  “Fine. But I want you in a dress. No bride of mine’s walking down the aisle in combat boots.”

  The two of them kept up the bantering and she let their deep voices fade into the background.

  She wasn’t at all sure she could stand up to Richard. Her half brother excelled at making her feel small, and yes, she let him do it to her. The trouble was, whenever she was around him, she felt like the five-year-old he’d picked on and it was hard to remember she was a grown-up.

  So maybe it was time to slay the dragon, she thought. She was a professional with her own life, an adult in the world who was doing well. And those shares were the only thing her father had ever given her except for some serious self-esteem issues. Even if Richard was a peach, she should be responsible for what was hers.

  “You can’t come with me, can you?” she asked Sean abruptly. “To Greenwich.”

  The men’s conversation halted.

  “No, I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t think so. It’s just…Even without the business stuff, a holiday weekend with my half brother is going to be grueling.”

  “What you need is an armed escort.”

  “Yeah.” She smiled. “Someone big. And tough…”

  “You thinking Robocop tough or Arnold tough?”

  “Let’s get into this decade, shall we? Think Wolverine.”

  “Arnold’s better.”

  She smiled. “Are we talking T2 Arnold?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t want to send you into the sunset with the mean one.”

  Mad laughed, wondering why Sean had never settled down. He was such a nice guy behind those chilly eyes. But every since she’d met him when he’d started working with Value Shop’s management team ten years ago he’d always been single.

  While Mad and Sean batted action heroes back and forth, Spike finished his omelet and wiped his mouth. He was stone tired, but very alert.

  God, that dream.

  Sometime early this morning, he’d had a powerhouse of a fantasy about Mad. They’d been on a beach and tangled in each other’s bodies, kissing and stroking and moving. She had been the single most amazing woman he’d ever been with.

  Which was not a surprise.

  As he remembered where they had been and what they’d done in his mind, he had the odd sense that he was being assessed. He looked up.

  Sean was staring at him and the man seemed very serious.

  “What? You want another omelet?” Spike asked.

  Sean looked across the table at Mad and cocked an eyebrow. She shook her head.

  “Go on,” Sean said softly.

  “What?” Spike put his napkin down.

  Sean nodded at Mad, as if urging her on. She cleared her throat.

  “Ah, would you come with me?” she asked. “To my family’s house for Memorial Day weekend? My half brother will be there and there are a couple of parties scheduled. You know, typical holiday stuff.”

  Spike frowned, thinking it was clear she wasn’t looking forward to being with her relatives. So why would she want to add to the burden by bringing a stranger with her?

  Then he thought of the way she’d looked him over when she’d heard he was a French chef. Right, he thought. What better way to get back at her high-flying family than to show up at the house with a roughneck like him?

  Man, this shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, he thought. It really shouldn’t.

  “Not my bag. Sorry.”

  Sean spoke up. “Come on, you’re perfect hero material, buddy.”

  “She’s looking for a freak, not a hero, aren’t you Madeline.” Spike heard a little gasp as he rose from the table, but he ignored the sound as he carried his plate to the sink. “And while I can’t deny I look the part, she needs to find some other fringe element to use. Hey, maybe she could just buy a weirdo of her own. She’s got the cash, I’m sure. And that way, all she has to do is let him out of the closet any time she wants to shake things up.”

  He thought he caught another soft inhale, but he didn’t let it st
op him on the way to the door.

  “Have a safe trip to Japan, Sean. I’ll call you. And thanks for the bed.”

  Spike grabbed his jacket out of the closet, slipped it on and got in the elevator. He was through the lobby and out on Park Avenue before he heard his name being shouted. He glanced behind him. Sean was jogging over the pavement in his bare feet. And he was pissed.

  “What the hell did you do that for, Moriarty?” the man demanded, getting right up into Spike’s face.

  “You’re kidding me, right?”

  “Mad did not deserve that potshot.”

  “Oh, but it’s okay for her to want to use me?”

  “I want you to apologize.”

  “Fine. Tell her I’m sorry. Later, Sean.” He turned away, only to find a meaty hand clamped on his forearm. He looked down and then met his friend in the eye. “Do us both a favor and let go, buddy.”

  Sean cursed, then dropped the hold and used his palm to rub his face. “Look, Spike, she didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Just like she didn’t mean that crack about me being a chef?”

  “Of course she didn’t—”

  “Did you catch the look she gave me? She clearly thinks I’m beneath her. And while that happens to be true, I don’t need to be reminded of the fact.”

  “God damn it…Why are you so touchy around her? You’re not usually like this.”

  Spike shifted his weight from foot to foot and then made himself take a deep breath. His temples were pounding even though he’d only had one glass of vodka the night before.

  “Look, just leave it, okay? But tell her I’m sorry if she’s upset.”

  “I want you to go with her.”

  He shook his head. “Scuse me, Sean, but have we been having two different conversations here? I’ve said I won’t and I mean it.”

  “But you’d be perfect, and no, not to drive her half brother around the bend. It’s just you don’t give a crap about all that social stuff and you won’t be offended by anything Richard says or does to you. And if you went, she wouldn’t be alone.”

  “First of all, Madeline Maguire is not the kind of woman who needs support troops.”

  “When it comes to her family, she does.”

  “Secondly, why doesn’t she call on one of her real friends?”

  “She doesn’t have any.”

  Spike opened his mouth, prepared to go on to his third point, when he actually heard what Sean said. “What?”

  Sean threw up his hands. “Mad’s…She keeps to herself and there are some damn good reasons why she doesn’t trust people. The only folks she’s at all close to are the members of the sailing crew she’s on—”

  “So why doesn’t she ask one of them?”

  “They’re stuck repairing a boat in the Bahamas. Look, there’s some bad stuff going on with her half brother that she’s going to have to deal with. You’d be a great buffer. And maybe something will…happen between you and her.”

  “Whatever.”

  “She likes you. She told me so.”

  Spike looked at the sidewalk, unable to believe his friend. “Don’t—”

  “Go. Please.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yeah, you can.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “If not for her, than as a favor to me? Come on, Spike, I’ve waited for years for that woman to notice a man. She sees you. Last night, she spent the whole party waiting for you to walk through the door. She’s really—”

  “Stop.” God, something close to panic was fanning in his chest. He had to open his mouth to breathe. “Sean, I don’t—”

  “I know you like her—”

  “Just…stop it.” His voice sounded choked, even to him, and Sean obviously thought the same thing because the guy shut up.

  Spike rubbed his hair. “Ah, hell, buddy…You’re right, I do like her. She is special. I would love to be with her. But even if she was attracted to me, and I don’t think she is in spite of what you say, I’m not the kind of man she’s going to want to be with or bring home.”

  “What a load of horse—” Sean ended the statement with a four-letter word. “I haven’t known you very long, but you’re one of my best friends. And I’m a damn good judge of character. So is Mad, by the way.”

  “Sean, listen to me. I’m not right for her.”

  “Why? Give me one damn good reason. And it better not be the tats on your neck because I know for a fact they turn women on.”

  Spike looked down at his combat boots. Took a deep breath. “You say you haven’t known me long? Well, you also don’t know a lot about me. I’ve got a heavy-duty past, O’Banyon.”

  “Like what?”

  Spike exhaled on a shudder. God, was he really going to do this?

  He locked stares with Sean.

  Yeah, he thought, he really was.

  “Five and a half years at Comstock for manslaughter. That’s maximum-security prison, Sean, and I did the crime. I killed a man. I killed him with my bare hands and I went to prison for it.”

  As his friend’s hazel eyes peeled wide open, Spike wanted to curse. Damn it, he didn’t want to lose Sean over this, he really didn’t. But it wasn’t like you could soft-pedal what he’d done. A human life taken was a shocking thing, as it should be.

  “That’s some hard time,” Sean murmured. “How old were you?”

  “Twenty-four when I did what I did. Twenty-five when I went in.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  “If the circumstances were the same? Yeah. I would.”

  There was a long pause. “What happened?”

  “Someone was beating my sister with a baseball bat. While screaming that he loved her. It was her life or her abuser’s. I picked her.”

  Sean’s shoulders eased up. “I’m glad you told me. And not just because of Mad.”

  “So do you understand why I can’t go with her? Why I couldn’t pursue her even if she’d have me?”

  “No, actually, I don’t. I’m willing to bet that if you told—”

  “Already tried that on a woman once. Most females don’t feel comfortable around a killer and I can’t blame them. What I did…it doesn’t sit well with me, either.”

  “Mad’s not most women.”

  Spike shrugged. “Maybe so. But I know for sure she could find someone better to help her out of this little family storm she’s heading into.”

  “I think you underestimate her.” Sean shook his head. “Still, it’s your decision. And no, I won’t tell her anything.”

  “Except that I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  There was another long silence between them. Spike could feel Sean searching his face and knew the guy was running through all the implications of what had been revealed. Someone like Sean O’Banyon, big, fancy, finance guru that he was, was not going to want to hang with a violent felon, not with the high profile the guy had.

  “It’s okay, Sean,” Spike said softly. “I understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “No prejudice, man. You and I can just go our separate ways. I’ll disappear quietly.”

  Sean’s lips thinned as he glowered. “Let me get this straight. You think I’d dump your friendship because of this?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  “You’re such a lunatic.”

  Before Spike could say another word, two meaty arms shot out and pulled him into a fierce hug. Sean clapped him on the back hard enough to make his molars sing and then let go.

  “Here’s the deal, Spike. I’ve got a juvenile record that has been thankfully buried somewhere in a courthouse back in South Boston. And I do business with white-collar thieves all the time. So no, I’m not punting on you because of this. Jeez, what kind of lightweight loser do you think I am?”

  As Sean glared, Spike cleared his throat, choking down a wave of gratitude.

  “We’re solid, Spike. You and me are cool. Got it? Got it?”

  “Y
eah, all right,” Spike said hoarsely. “Good deal.”

  Up in the penthouse, Mad took care of the remaining dishes and washed the pans. Then she went into the guest room.

  The bed Spike had slept in was made up perfectly. The pillows were all arranged neatly. The duvet was square on the mattress and smoothed out. The sheets had been tucked in.

  It was as if he’d never lain there.

  She went over and sat on the chaise. She couldn’t totally blame Spike for thinking what he had about the invitation. It had come from out of left field and they didn’t really know each other. She just wished she’d had enough time to explain herself before he left.

  And it also would have been nice if he’d had a little more faith that she wouldn’t want to use him, or anybody else, like that.

  God, what had made her think for even a second that he’d want to spend a long weekend with her?

  Mad listened to the silence in the penthouse, hoping to hear a door open and shut. She really wished Sean wasn’t outside on the street yelling at Spike right now. She’d tried to keep her friend from going after the poor guy, but you couldn’t stop a freight train just by standing in front of it.

  Suddenly tired, Mad glanced over at the bed she’d used. Maybe she should go back to sleep—

  She frowned, noticing the strangest thing.

  One of her pillows was at the foot of the mattress. As if someone had dropped it there.

  It hadn’t been her. When she’d slipped out of bed, everything had been pretty much in place. But why would Spike have moved it?

  She got up and walked over to the pillow. When she picked it up, she caught a whiff of aftershave. As if the thing had been held against a man’s cheek.

  How odd.

  She put it against the headboard and stretched out on the bed. As she smelled the masculine scent again, she took a deep breath.

  And yearned for what she couldn’t have.

  Chapter Four

  A week later, Mad decided that one nice thing about the ocean was you never had to deal with traffic. Especially not the Friday of Memorial Day weekend, getting out of Manhattan, parking-lot-on-a-highway variety.