The Rich Boy

And maybe even guess how much the fact had hurt her.

Her high heels clicked as she stepped a little too abruptly off the stairs onto the heavily polished cherrywood floor and eased her way into the crowd. She was instantly engulfed by the headily perfumed heat and excited energy generated by the ultraprivileged.

She wove her way through the guests toward the back of the huge house, a slow process because of the sheer number of people and how many of them wanted to chat with her along the way. She might have grown up on the other side of the state in St. Louis and had lived in Los Angeles since then, but to most of these folks she’d become a hometown girl the second Joseph McCoy had put his stamp of approval on her.

A designation that would certainly evaporate if she accomplished her goal here tonight.

When she finally made it through the French doors that opened out onto the large patio, the cooler air helped resharpen her focus. But even out here the scent of flowers, honeysuckle in particular, tempted her to linger, to breathe in the magic of the evening.

Until Joseph McCoy’s booming voice caught her attention. He was standing among a group of people collected away from the guests. Madeline didn’t need long to realize it was a family affair. The men were all tall and broad shouldered, the women beautiful and lucky.

Keeping to the shadows hugging the house, she inched as close as she dared.

Cooper Anders and his new fiancée, pretty brunette Sara Barnes, were there. For a former small construction company owner, he looked surprisingly at home in a classic black tuxedo. Sara, her petite figure shown off to its best in a beautiful, body-conscious cream gown Madeline recognized as a Dior, had the ease of a woman raised amid the McCoys.

Cooper owed Madeline an interview about how it felt to go from the big house—meaning the county jail—to the Big House, where he’d found love with McCoy Enterprises’ vice president of operations. But that could wait.

The other newest McCoy, Mitch Smith, she’d met earlier. He was the only one at the party dressed relatively casually, in jeans, cowboy boots and a brown suede blazer. He also stood out as the only blond man in the bunch. The private investigator who’d found him, Alison Sullivan, was next to him, and the possessive hand Mitch had on the black satin-clad waist of the feisty redhead suggested a human-interest story to be had there, also.

The only people in the group she didn’t know were the very striking marine officer in full-dress uniform and the tall, attractive woman in a short black sheath, whose long hair was as dark as the marine’s. The guy’s looks and stature made it logical to jump to the conclusion that he was another long-lost McCoy. The way he smiled down at the Catherine Zeta-Jones lookalike spoke of newfound love.

Yep. Beautiful and lucky.

The freshly resurrected ghost of that old hurt poked at Madeline, but she refused to acknowledge its existence.

Based on all the handshaking going on, it seemed that introductions were being conducted around the group. Apparently they’d barely all arrived in time for the party.

For cripes’ sake, she could make her career on doing nothing but the straight-up, feel-good fluff stories about these men being brought into this family by its patriarch, Joseph McCoy.

Only, it wasn’t the career she wanted.

And with Joseph himself spoon-feeding it to her, she’d never have the chance to prove anything other than how gracefully she could jump through other people’s hoops. Her parents would be so proud.

She moved to slip past the group, because the one notable family member missing was Alexander McCoy. By all rights he should be there to meet his newest, spit-polished nephew. A nephew who looked to be about the same age as his thirty-four-year-old uncle.

Sure, Marcus McCoy revealing a bunch of illegitimate sons after becoming grizzly chow was a story, one that every Tom, Dick and Harry had already reported. But if the man presented to the world as Marcus’s younger brother really wasn’t…then that would mean Joseph McCoy had been involved and that was something else entirely.

Something big.

Behind her, Madeline heard Joseph stop mid-exposition and ask the group, “Where’s Alexander?”

She froze, then dared to take a couple steps backward to hear better. There was some whispering, and it was all she could do not to turn around and shout, Speak up!

She’d just started to gnash her teeth, when she distinctly heard Cooper inquire, “Do you think he bailed to the stable?” He’d kept his voice low, but his distinct, deep resonance carried to Madeline.

“That’s were he usually goes when he’s stressed or upset.” Madeline was pretty sure Sara Barnes had had the answer.

An answer good enough for Madeline, who was determined to get to Alex first.

Shrugging off the prickle of concern at the thought of Alex upset because she would not let her former feelings for the man get in the way, she picked up the hem of her dress and hurried for the stairs off the veranda.

When she and Dan had checked for good backdrops for their interviews, she’d snooped enough to know a flower-lined brick path led from the veranda right down to the elegant stable built to match the red-brick and white-columned Monticello-ish Big House.

The path was lit with torches until she reached the source of the honeysuckle smell—an arbor loaded with buff-yellow flowers that looked pale white in the darkness. The sweet scent was heady within the arbor, and she emerged on the other side more than a little light-headed. Fortunately, the bright, perfect full moon took up the job of lighting her way.

The long, low stable wasn’t far from the arbor, and was probably beat-out in the stink department. Besides, she doubted the quality horses Alex owned would ever dream of fouling the air.

Her clicking high heels seemed abnormally loud on the brick path as she neared the white, sliding double doors, so she started tiptoeing as best she could. The interior of the stable was dark, but the moonlight shining through the small windows in the miniature dome topping the stable, which mimicked the large dome in the Big House’s foyer, was strong enough that faint light slipped out from beneath the doors.

She was about ready to test her Pilates core strength and shove one of the large doors open, when she realized a small, regular door had been built into one of them. She quietly lifted the latch on it, eased the door open and stepped through. She quickly closed the door behind her as silently as she could. She didn’t want to alert Alex to her presence and give him the chance to slip out another way before she could find him.

Thanks to the moonlight streaming down from above, Madeline could see that the stable had a wide, center aisle, high open beams and stalls lining both sides. A tack room, its lights off, lay to the right of this set of doors. Another set of doors stood at the opposite end and had been left open a couple of feet.

Everything was white and pristine and had the most wonderful earthy smell. Whether from the hay or the horses, she didn’t know, having zero experience with either.

A deep murmuring came from the first stall on her left, and Madeline tiptoed toward the enclosure, which would look like a prison cell if they’d built it with more iron bars than wood paneling instead of the other way around. She peeked through the bars and froze.

Bathed in moonlight fractured by similar bars on a high window opposite her stood Alexander McCoy, resting his forehead between the eyes of a dark-colored horse as powerfully beautiful as he was.

His black bow tie hanging loose around his neck and his tuxedo jacket open, Alex stroked the horse’s broad cheek. “I’d give anything if someone could tell me how to handle this.” The torment in his whispered plea was plain and piercing.

Alex was hurting. Madeline’s shift in focus was as absolute as it was unexpected. She herself hadn’t seen much sign of him mourning for Marcus, so she’d thought he was fine—as fine as he could be considering his loss. Had he simply been hiding his pain?

He said, “You got any ideas, big guy?”

The horse actually made a soft rumbling sound that reminded Madeline of a giant cat’s purr.

“I know, I know.” Alex soothed the magnificent animal. “You’d help if you could. I just wish I didn’t feel so much like running away.”

What? Alex run away? More than capable of solving problems, he was the kind of guy to run to them, not away.

He sighed, tracing a path down the horse’s long face with the tip of his forefinger. “I simply don’t know who I am anymore.”

Madeline’s heart lodged firmly in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. Suddenly the last thing on her mind was digging up dirt on this most privileged of the privileged.

All she wanted to do was comfort Alexander McCoy.

Chapter Two

“Alex.”

Madeline’s voice cracked on his name, but she couldn’t help it.

Both the big man and the big horse jerked at the sound of her voice, then Alex wheeled toward her. His eyes narrowed and he stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Or rather who.

“You?” His growled question confirmed her suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

Madeline moved to the open stall door. “Are you okay?”

“I said, what are you doing here?” The undercurrent of pain was clear in his voice and seemed to reach out, grab hold of her heart and squeeze.

She put a hand on the stall door to steady herself. “Searching for you.”

He made a disparaging noise. “Just what I need.” He returned his attention to his horse, stroking a hand down its cheek. The horse shifted into a stripe of moonlight and the rich brown tones of its glossy coat virtually glowed.

The squeeze on her heart intensified. She scrabbled for safe ground. “What’s its name?”

Alex jerked his gaze to hers. “What?”

She gestured to the sleek animal. “Your horse. What’s its name?”

He straightened the narrow leather halter where it encircled the horse’s nose. “It is a stallion, and he raced under the name Most Excellent Endeavor, but his stable name is Duke.” Alex’s voice, demeanor, everything altered—relaxed—as he spoke of his horse.

Thank goodness some things hadn’t changed. His horses had always been so special to him, had been his escape from the stresses of being who he was. A McCoy.

She smiled. “He looks like a Duke. I bet he was a Most Excellent Endeavor for you, also. But aren’t stallions dangerous?”

He scoffed and let her know she’d just revealed her ignorance of horses. “Not if they’re decently trained. And this guy is well past his frisky days. Mostly.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is the closest I’ve ever been to one. When I was growing up my mother wanted me to take riding lessons to help ‘further my poise’ during my pageant training days, but my dad thought learning to play golf would serve me better later in life.” As some corporate executive or politician’s wife. Either would give her a status that would reflect well on him.

The pain of always being molded into something had dulled over the years, but not nearly enough for her to forget.

She sensed his stare. “Has it?”

She raised her chin. “Not lately.”

His skepticism filled the air between them and raised her ire. “I have no intention of settling for spending my life playing golf and hanging off some rich boy’s arm.”

To shift the conversation away from her and to keep him at ease, she gestured to the horse again. “So he’s a thoroughbred?”

“One of the finest. But like I said, his racing days are over. Now he occasionally gets to be a stud, and when he’s not entertaining a special lady, he’s my favorite saddle horse.”

For some ridiculous reason Madeline’s cheeks heated. If only she hadn’t thought of Alex and the horse as magnificent beasts…She cleared her throat, forcing herself to instead think of what she’d heard when she’d first found him. “Alex, what did you mean when you said you didn’t know who—”

“Look, Maddy.” He turned toward her, in a flash once again stiff and agitated. “No offense, but you are—without a doubt—the last person I want to talk to right now.”

The air left her lungs in a rush and her fingers curled against the smooth, whitewashed wood of the stall door. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized we’d ended things that badly.”

His sigh reverberated in the stall. Straw crunched as he took a step toward her. “It’s not because of that—We didn’t end badly. At least, I didn’t think so.”

Of course he wouldn’t. He was the one who’d stopped calling. But she’d been in the process of moving to start her new job at Entertainment This Evening in L.A., so she’d told herself their breakup was for the best. Which generally worked, except for late at night when she occasionally tortured herself with what-ifs.

He took another step forward, out of the shaft of moonlight and into an area shadowed by a thick ceiling beam, hiding his expressions from her, increasing his size. “It’s because of what you do. Your job.” His voice had dropped. Hardened.

Disappointment swept through her. He was putting up a wall. She was stunned by how much she’d wanted to reach him, to be there for him. If only he’d let her.

But the battle lines were drawn. So be it.

“That’s not why I’m here,” she blurted. Certainly not after she’d seen the state he was in. Joseph might be the head of the family and corporation, but from what she could tell, Alex was the backbone. And he didn’t let anyone close enough to support him while he was working to support so many others.

“Forgive me for being skeptical.”

She had to, because he dang well should be. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from claiming otherwise. The practical side of her, the side she normally listened to, told her she needed to get back on track, that she was in this stable because of her job. She should ignore how much his upset unsettled her and get past his antagonism so he’d talk to her.

She took a stab at reassuring him without actually lying to him. “I’m in the entertainment news business, Alex.”

“Unfortunately people are entertained by the damnedest things nowadays.” He moved closer still. “Besides, when we were together—”

“For a few official functions at the end of my reign and a handful of not-so-private dinner dates, thanks to both our notoriety…” she interjected, trying to make light of their past relationship to lessen the awkwardness it caused.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I had the distinct impression you had a thing for investigative reporting.”

Madeline pulled her chin back. He’d noticed her dream. And remembered. “That was seven years ago.” And it had taken her that long to feel she had the knowledge and experience to go after her dream.

She barely caught his shrug in the dim light.

“People change,” she hedged to throw him off course.

“You’ve only changed for the better.”

The husky timber of his voice more than the unexpected compliment sent heat creeping up her chest. “Then why won’t you talk to me?”

He stood motionless and silent for a long moment, and she would have given anything to see what might be in those incredible steely blue eyes of his.

Finally he said, “What do you want to know?”

She wet her lips, afraid of blowing her chance. The first question that popped into her head was Are you really Marcus’s brother? but she couldn’t lead with The Big Question. And an awfully large part of her was still concerned about him. The part that had never forgotten their time together.

So she settled for saying, “How are you doing with all the changes happening because of what was revealed after Marcus’s death?”

He shifted. “Losing Marcus was a blow to the family, but the discovery of his sons has gone a long way toward healing us all.”

Straight from the press release. He hadn’t even tried to be subtle. However, the residue of the anguish in his voice kept her from becoming angry or frustrated with him.

Just the opposite. She yearned to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay.

Which was impossible, considering she wasn’t sure what was wrong.

She shook her head slowly, her artfully mussed hair tickling her bare neck and shoulders. “You’ve changed also, Alex. I don’t know if it happened slowly over the course of seven years or just since Marcus’s death. Frankly, I suspect the latter. Regardless, I wish you’d give me the chance to understand what you’re going through right now. Maybe I can help somehow.”

He stepped out of the shadows. Madeline’s breath caught at the intensity in his eyes, the hard line of his perfectly sculpted jaw. Closing the distance between them, he filled her space and her senses, thrilling her and scaring her at the same time.

Not because she thought he would hurt her. Alex would never hurt her or any other woman.

At least not physically.

She couldn’t take her eyes from his. She couldn’t do anything but stand there, mesmerized by his hot gaze and the spice of his cologne, which was carried by the heat coming off his big body. Mingled with the earthy scents of hay and horse and leather, the smell unleashed an unexpected need in her, stronger than anything she’d ever experienced.

He raised a hand and stroked his fingertips down her cheek, much the way he’d stroked his exquisite horse. Rather than calming or soothing, his touch set off a riot in her body. Heat flooded her, her skin tingled and her pulse pounded.

His attention dropped to her lips and his fingers traveled downward over her jaw, over the wildly throbbing pulse point in her throat, across her collarbone, then skimmed over the swell of her right breast.

He eventually spoke, his voice soft and beguiling. “What I’m going through right now, Madeline, is not for public consumption. Even if it were, there is no way I’d allow you to use me for your own gain as you did before. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He curled a hand over her shoulder and eased her out the door of the stall until she stood off to the side.

Before she could react to what he’d said or done, he gave a quick whistle, which brought Duke to him instantly.

She watched through the bars above the stall wall as he grabbed a lead rope off a hook, clipped it to Duke’s halter and—tuxedo and all—pulled himself onto the horse’s bare back. Not an easy thing, considering the animal’s height, but Alex had a way of making things look easy.

With nothing more than the softest of clucks, he spurred Duke out of the stall and turned him to the left.

Madeline gaped like an idiot as Alex gracefully rode his big ex-racehorse down the center aisle of the stable, away from her, Duke’s metal-shod hooves thunking on the rubberized asphalt floor.

Man and horse drew a nicker or two from residents of the other stalls, who apparently didn’t appreciate being left behind. Then Alex and Duke were gone, out into the night.

Thank goodness the full moon was bright enough for them to see by, though having grown up here, Alex probably knew every inch of the monstrous estate by heart. He’d once told her that riding the path hugging the high white fence that ringed the property freed him of the stresses of managing such a huge, economically influential corporation.

Now there was so much more.

The crunch of hooves on gravel gave way to a rhythmic pounding. He must have taken off across the rolling field that stretched for acres and acres behind the Big House.

Soon the sharp chirp of insects and the noises drifting down the hill from the party replaced the hoofbeats.

Slowly, the way oil spreads across polluted water, horror overwhelmed her astonishment. He thought she’d used him, that she’d dated him simply to obtain Joseph’s help in getting a job with Entertainment This Evening after she’d completed her obligation to the Miss Central USA pageant.

She hadn’t.

Alex couldn’t be more wrong. The last thing she’d expected was for Joseph to use his influence on her behalf, especially not with a show that only had a place for her because of her notoriety. An influence that was so powerful that all it had taken was a casual word from him during a supposedly innocuous conversation with the head of the network.

After finishing the reign she hadn’t earned, she’d wanted to prove she was capable of more. Much more. But she’d accepted the offer because a degree in broadcast journalism and a beauty queen crown wouldn’t have been enough to convince any hard-news show that she had what it took to excel as an investigative reporter. She’d needed experience and seasoning. After seven years, she knew in her gut she was ready.

Okay, so she did have every intention of using him for her own gain now. Unfortunately Alex would never believe she hadn’t done it earlier. The timing had been too coincidental. She’d dated him because he’d been unlike any man she’d ever met. Besides his obvious—and at times overwhelming—physical appeal, she admired him, was incredibly impressed by the power of his intellect and his drive to lead the corporation his father had founded to even greater heights of success.

If Joseph was indeed his father.

Something she was becoming more and more convinced was in question thanks to Alex’s out-of-character behavior. The Alex she’d known would never have abandoned a party bursting with VIPs, particularly a party in honor of Joseph’s milestone seventy-fifth birthday, which Joseph himself had told her was meant to help him deal with his grief over the loss of his beloved son, Marcus.

She lightly rapped her knuckle against the stall wall. Maybe Alex’s behavior was a result of his own grief. She’d never had the impression that Alex and Marcus were close, but losing a sibling—one who could have been idolized despite his entirely contrary behavior—would still be a blow. As an only child with parental issues, Madeline could only imagine what such a loss might be like.

The seed of doubt she’d just sown took root and grew like a noxious weed.

One thing she could be sure of was that she refused to return to Los Angeles until she uncovered the truth about Alex one way or the other.

“Miss Monroe?” a woman asked from behind Madeline.

Jumping what seemed a foot and jerking around, Madeline found Sara Barnes standing in the door-within-a-door Madeline herself had used. A worried and highly suspicious expression marred Sara’s pretty, girl-next-door face, and the grip she had on the skirt of her exquisite cream gown threatened violence.

Madeline schooled her features into a pleasant, entirely at-ease expression. She hoped. “Please, call me Maddy, Miss Barnes.”

She preferred Madeline for its grown-up, competent ring, but everyone from her parents to her producers wanted her to go by the more approachable, more memorable, Maddy. Once she landed a job reporting hard news, she would insist on Madeline.

Not that a catchy name had hurt Cokie Roberts or Wolf Blitzer any.

Sara lifted the skirt of her gown and stepped through the door into the stable, glancing at the tack room, then Duke’s stall. She was obviously hunting for Alex.

“And you can call me Sara. Did you walk down here with Alexander McCoy?” she asked.

“No, I didn’t.” Madeline had practically scurried down here looking for Alex, which Sara certainly wouldn’t appreciate hearing.

Sara had been particularly protective of the McCoys since Marcus’s death, furthering Madeline’s perception that there were secrets to be guarded.

Madeline adjusted the spaghetti strap on one shoulder. “I needed a break from the heat of the lights and all the people wanting their fifteen minutes in the spotlight. Alex always used to talk about how peaceful the stable was, and I thought I’d give it a shot.”

Sara nodded slowly, plainly weighing the likelihood of Madeline’s explanation. The creases between her eyebrows vanished and she sighed, apparently buying into the fib. “Have you by any chance come across Alex? Joseph wants him.”