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She realized was staring. And figured she better say something.
“You…are a chef?”
A bland look crossed his face and he went to the fridge. “I’m more the hash-slinger type, is that it?”
“No, I—”
“So what do you feel like chewing on, SOB?” he asked Sean sharply.
Shoot, she’d offended him. But she’d just been surprised that he would do something so traditional and rule-based. It wasn’t that she thought he didn’t have the intelligence and discipline it took to become a chef.
But Sean answered his question before she could explain herself. “Surprise me, buddy. Work your magic. In the meantime, Mad, you and I need to talk. And I’m leaving to go to Japan for two months this morning so it’s here and now.”
“Sean—”
“Come on, we’re going into the other room. And let’s hurry up so we’re not late for breakfast.”
Mad looked across the kitchen. Spike was gathering eggs, some leafy stuff and a couple of cheeses from the fridge.
He shot her a level stare. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to burn the place down without your supervision.”
“I didn’t mean that comment as you took it.”
“Okay. My bad.” He sounded bored. And as though even if she had wanted to insult him, he wouldn’t have cared.
She gave up and followed Sean into the living room. Her friend didn’t waste time with any preamble.
“You need to go see your brother, Mad, and you need to do it before you head back out to sea.”
Oh, not this again, she thought.
“Mad?”
“Half brother,” she muttered. “He’s my half brother.”
“Don’t get huffy with me.” Sean sat on a leather sofa and pulled her down with him. “Look, I’m not just telling you this as your buddy. I’m giving you some free professional advice. Go see him. Now.”
“Why? My shares in the company are the only thing that interest Richard. And he’s got control of them as executor of my trust.” Together she and her half siblings owned the biggest portion of Value Shop Supermarkets, one of the largest grocery store chains in the nation. The holdings were valued at an absurd figure that Mad didn’t like to think about. It was just too much to comprehend.
“Mad, in another week and a half he doesn’t have to be. You’re going to be twenty-five. Your father’s will stated that when you reached that age, you could assume control of your holdings provided you took certain affirmative steps to do so. Otherwise, the current arrangement with Richard in charge prevails. He would continue to vote your proxies at board meetings for the next five years.”
She frowned as it dawned on her that she hadn’t thought about her trust or the company in years. Shirking responsibility wasn’t in her nature and it was damn unappealing that she had assets she was taking care of. But her racing had always been the most important thing.
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 stop 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.”
