The Rogue

by J. R. Ward

  He just wished he could have gotten himself ready. Prepared. Controlled.

  Although that would have required a sedative. And a blindfold.

  As far as he was concerned, Madeline Maguire defined female perfection. She was confident and smart and tall enough to nearly meet him in the eye. Her no-nonsense warmth was a total turn-on and the rest of her was just as enticing. She had thick, dark hair that fell to the middle of her back. Her sapphire-blue eyes were bright enough to qualify as spotlights. And her smile had enough voltage to shock him right into an idiot-coma.

  Tonight, she was wearing a black knit dress with a high neck and her body was…

  Yeah, it was still perfect.

  And he knew exactly what her curves looked like. He’d seen them, up close and personal. The first time he’d met her, she’d come out of a bathroom wearing nothing but a sports bra and a pair of black panties. She’d walked up to him, like she wasn’t the most gorgeous thing on the planet, and expected him to shake hands as if Amazonian goddesses talked to him every day.

  Then she’d asked to see his tattoos. He’d just about passed out.

  In fact, he was feeling light-headed right about now, too.

  But maybe that was just hypoglycemia, he thought with optimism. The last time he’d eaten had been six hours ago.

  Spike hitched up his slacks, tucked in his shirt and walked over to her and Sean, keeping a tight rein on his face. If he didn’t watch it, he was liable to start grinning like an imbecile. And shuffling his feet.

  Man, where the hell was his game when he needed it?

  “Hey, big guy,” he said to Sean. “Damn sorry about the slow-up. Did you get my message?”

  As he and Sean clapped palms, he knew instantly something was up. His buddy’s eyes were twinkling.

  And Sean O’Banyon, better known to most as SOB, was not a twinkler.

  Sean glanced to his left. “No problem. You’ve met Madeline Maguire, right?”

  Sure have, Spike thought. Saw her last night in my dreams.

  As he nodded, he allowed his eyes one quick glance in her direction. Oh…wow. Those lips of hers were so pink. And she wasn’t wearing any makeup at all.

  “Hi, Spike,” she said.

  That voice. Low, husky. As sexy as he remembered it. His skin tingled.

  “Nice to see you, Madeline.”

  She didn’t offer him her hand and he was glad. He’d already tried out the whole puddle thing in the middle of 71st Street and hadn’t found the experience all that enriching. So melting in front of her wasn’t something he needed to do for a variety of reasons.

  “What’s doing with the speeches?” he asked Sean. “Have I missed them entirely?”

  “Sorry, buddy. Time’s come and gone.”

  “I better go make my apologies. Know where the happy couple is?”

  “In my study, I think. Alex insisted that Cass get off her feet and I think he installed her in a chair and ottoman back there. He says the doc’s probably going to put her on bed rest until she delivers the baby. Have you eaten yet?”

  “Nah. I’m starved.”

  “Say, Mad, why don’t you show our boy where the eats are?”

  “That’s okay,” Spike said quickly. “I’ll find the food. Oh, listen, do you mind if I crash here tonight?”

  Sean popped a grin, a big, wide one that pulled out his dimple.

  Man, this was such trouble, Spike thought. SOB’s hazel eyes had that whole oh, goody thing going on. What was he up to?

  Sean clapped him on the shoulder. “I think that would be a great idea, Spike. Absolutely perfect. Don’t you, Mad?”

  For some reason, Madeline was eyeing the guy like she wanted to nail him in the shin.

  Spike frowned, wondering how close they were. And in what manner of closeness it might be. He thought about what little he knew of the woman. She came from big money, supermarket money. So maybe O’Banyon was an advisor to her or something.

  Sean winked at Mad.

  Yeah, or maybe it was something more personal.

  From out of nowhere, a mighty testosterone surge knocked out Spike’s frontal lobe and higher reasoning. He was struck by an urgent need to push his body in between them. And maybe drag that handsome, dimple-sporting, eye-twinkling Sean O’Banyon into the hall closet.

  He’d look just perfect hanging next to Spike’s biker jacket. In the dark. Away from Madeline. Winking at himself. The bastard.

  With a groan, Spike threw a leash on his inner gorilla, pointing out that Sean was a friend. FRIEND.

  But then Mad looked at the man like the two shared a secret. And Spike’s core primate started to thump its chest.

  Sean is lunch, the thing said. LUNCH.

  Okay, it was now retreat time. If he stayed much longer, his personalities were going to start arguing with each other. Out loud.

  “Excuse us,” he murmured, turning away. “I mean, me.”

  Chapter Two

  Mad watched Spike work his way through the crowd. People stepped aside for him, eyeing his looks with curiosity and a hint of wariness.

  And in the case of the women, a good shot of blatant sensual appraisal.

  But then he was the kind of man who made you think about making love. The way his big body moved with such power and grace told you he knew how to use those muscles and bones of his. In all kinds of different ways.

  “So, Mad, what is going on with Spike? I’ve never seen you this entranced.”

  She glanced at Sean and dodged the question. “I thought I was staying here tonight?”

  “You are.”

  “You have one guest room.”

  “With two beds in it. And you guys are grown-ups, at least in theory. Shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Sean’s grin got wider, if that was possible. “And, you know, if you get cold at night, I’m sure Spike would—ow!”

  Mad hesitated, and then gave him a second nuggie, in case the first one hadn’t made a big enough impression.

  “Don’t you dare throw me at that man,” she said tightly.

  Sean kept smiling, even as he rubbed his upper arm. “Who’s throwing? I’m not throwing. He needs a place to stay, so do you. Copious amounts of no throwing.”

  She closed her eyes, feeling as if her heart had turned into a fist. “Sean…I’m serious. I can’t—Please don’t embarrass me.”

  There was a pause and then a heavy arm came around her shoulders. “Hell, honey, I’m sorry. I’d never do that. Come here.”

  She let herself get pulled up against Sean’s chest. As she took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the doorway Spike had disappeared through.

  Sean stroked her back. “It’s just…I’d like to see you with someone like him. He’s a good man. I know him well. He comes down here all the time and we hang together.”

  “Yeah, well, in case you haven’t noticed, he didn’t even look in my direction. He has no interest in me whatsoever.”

  “That can change.”

  “Not with me, it can’t.”

  Sean cursed. “That stuff with Amelia and your boyfriend, it doesn’t mean—”

  “I don’t want to talk about my half sister. And it wasn’t boyfriend, it was boyfriends. She slept with two of them.”

  Another curse. “Do you want me to tell Spike to go somewhere else?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine spending the night in the same room with him. But it wouldn’t surprise me if he decides to leave. Now, look, you need to get back to your guests, okay?”

  “Why don’t you come with me and have some food?”

  “I’m not hungry,” she replied, which was her automatic response whenever anyone asked her to eat. “But thanks. Go on…I’m just fine.”

  After Sean left, and for the rest of the party, Mad kept to herself. And watched Spike.

  He’d struck her as a quiet person when she’d met him up at the lake, but tonight, he was a real charismatic crowd pleaser. He and Sean started trading stories in the living room and soon there was
a crew of people around them. A crew with a lot of women in it.

  Which made sense. Sean had always been a lady-killer and Spike evidently was one, too. He had this half-cocked grin he sported whenever he let a good one-liner fly, and like the other women, Mad felt her heart kick up a notch every time that wry smile came out.

  As the knot of people around him laughed once again, she shook her head. Boy, she’d read him wrong. He wasn’t an introvert at all.

  He was also very secure in himself. He seemed singularly unimpressed by the guests at the party and there were some pretty famous people around. It wasn’t that he was unfriendly, though. He smiled and talked, shook hands and clapped shoulders. He just didn’t kiss up. No matter who was standing in front of him, he never lost the slightly aloof, mocking confidence that drew people to him.

  And speaking of magnetic, two women in particular had cozied up to him. Both were blond and aristocratic-looking, and pretty soon, one had her arm around him while the other tried to sit in his lap.

  Mad shook her head, telling herself she had no right to be jealous.

  Abruptly, Spike roared with laughter, the sound rich and very male. And then his eyes shifted across the room. As he caught her staring, his face tightened and the smile dropped off his lips. When the blonde sitting beside him playfully swatted at his chest, he recovered quickly and grinned down at the woman.

  Yup, this was it in a nutshell, Mad thought. The story of my life.

  The only time she wasn’t invisible to men was when she was giving them attention they didn’t want.

  * * *

  Spike had been totally surprised to find Mad looking at him and the shock of meeting her eyes had cut off his train of thought. He managed to finish his story about the first fish he’d cleaned as a chef only because he’d told the thing so many times, it was rote.

  No doubt Mad thought he was just a rowdy show-off. And as the people around him broke out into laughter, he thought she was probably right.

  Mad, on the other hand, wasn’t rowdy or a show-off. She stayed away from the crush of people, lingering near the bank of windows, beautiful and still as a piece of art. In her regal silence, she made him feel awkward and unworthy, as if his stories were pathetic rambles with predictable starts and flat endings.

  But then a lot of men at the party seemed to feel the same way about her. Every single male in the place had admired her from afar and obviously lacked the courage to approach her. What they settled for was looking at her from the corner of their eyes, watching her, measuring her. He saw all the glances and noted each one of them with a curse.

  He knew exactly what kind of thoughts were going through those minds of theirs. The sexual speculation. The awe. The intimidation.

  Because that sticky morass was swimming in his own head.

  There was just something so…unreachable about her. It was as if she had seen things and done things on the ocean that none of them had come close to on land. And the gap worked against the men, setting them apart as pasty versions of something she probably didn’t want and definitely didn’t need.

  And her beauty was downright threatening. Anchored by the strength of her body and her smart, smart eyes, she turned the other women at the party into f-words.

  Frail. Flighty. Forgettable.

  Spike felt something hit his chest lightly. Paige Livingstone or Livingworth—or something equally WASPy—seemed disappointed he’d retreated into his head. As did her sister, Whitney, who had somehow wiggled her way onto his lap.

  Spike set Whitney aside and smiled in an empty way the sisters didn’t pick up on. An hour later, after the party had wound down, he showed them both the door even though they’d given him their number and plenty of come-hither-you-bad-boy looks. He just wasn’t in the mood to be their savage conquest fantasy. He’d done that before and had never really gotten much out of it even though the women had seemed to enjoy the experience.

  Man…it was crazy, but for some reason, the sweater-set, pearl-draped, scarf-wearing types just went nuts for guys who looked like him.

  Well, nuts for one night. Or maybe two. Though never longer than that.

  Which was fine with him. He wasn’t looking for a relationship.

  No, he’d given up on that a long time ago. With his past, he wasn’t ever going to settle down. As soon as a woman knew what he’d done and where he’d gone, she’d bolt and he was sure of this because it had happened to him. Since full disclosure was a guaranteed exit door, and he couldn’t stomach lying by omission, he was never going to be more than a short-term visitor in a woman’s life.

  And he really was cool with that. He was a survivor both by nature and experience so his prime directive was clear. If you can’t change something, you adapt and move along.

  As Spike shut the door on the two blondes, he took a deep breath. The penthouse was silent now and the lack of noise was a relief.

  Except then he realized that Madeline had left and he’d never gotten a chance to say goodbye.

  Maybe that was just as well. Usually he had a good rapport with women; he could charm the pants right off them if he wanted to. But with Mad, there was no way to fake the social fluff.

  And besides, all things considered, he should be grateful. He sensed she was someone he could fall hard and sloppy for. And where would that land him?

  Ah, yes. 71st Street. On his butt.

  Sean came out of the kitchen, tie hanging loose, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He had two cups of coffee in his hand and he held one out.

  “Thought you might need a pick-me-up, too,” the guy said in a curiously disgruntled tone.

  Spike took what he was offered and they made a beeline for the living room.

  “So I think Alex and Cass had a fine time,” Spike said. “And they were really nice about my being late.”

  Sean grunted. “You certainly looked like you were enjoying yourself. The Livingston sisters were all over you.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat down on plush leather sofas that faced the bank of windows. Outside, the city glowed on the opposite side of the dense black square of the park.

  “Too bad you spent so much time with them,” Sean muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “There were other women at the damn party, you know.”

  Spike frowned and was about to ask what was doing, when he heard something behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. There was someone coming down the hall from the other end of the penthouse. A straggler?

  Madeline came into the room as if he’d conjured her up from his fantasies. Her hair was all over her shoulders, rich and glossy, as if she’d just brushed it. And she’d changed out of that lovely dress and was wearing a pair of men’s boxers and a tank top.

  The two didn’t quite meet in the middle so her belly button showed.

  Spike shifted in his seat as Sean smiled and said, “Hey, Mad. Coffee’s in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks.” She strolled into the other room.

  Spike watched her go, his eyes latching on to the sway of her hips. And the muscles of her thighs and calves. And all the smooth, tanned skin of her legs.

  Then it hit him.

  “Sean? Is she staying here?”

  “Yup.”

  Spike put his cup down and pegged his hands into his knees. As he stood up, he was aware of a stinging suffocation.

  “Where you going, my man?” Sean murmured, Boston accent coming out thickly.

  “I better take off.” No way in hell he could be in the same apartment while Sean and Mad were in bed. Together. Doing unspeakable, fabulous things to each others’ bodies.

  God, just the thought of them together made him nauseous.

  “Sit down, Spike.”

  “Nah, you need some privacy. I’ll see you later.”

  “Spike, sitcha-ass down. It’s not like that with her, okay? You can relax.”

  Spike narrowed his eyes and wondered if he’d given anything away about his attraction to the woman. It wo
uldn’t have been much if he had, but when it came to his friend, it wouldn’t have to be a lot. The trouble with O’Banyon was the guy was flipping brilliant. Never missed a thing, especially when people were trying to hide their inner goodies.

  Usually it was a point in the man’s favor. Not tonight.

  Sean’s voice stayed level as he nodded to the sofa. “Sit.”

  Spike sank back down. And then another thought shot through his head. He tried to remember how many bedrooms the place had. Not enough.

  He eyed the couch. Pushed at it with his hand.

  Good to go, he thought, imagining himself stretched out with his head on one of the cushions.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sean said.

  “What?”

  “Sleeping out here. There are two perfectly good beds in that guest room and you guys are going in them. She’s already said she has no problem with it.”

  Him and Madeline Maguire in the same room? Alone? For like, six, seven hours? He’d be lucky if he wasn’t limping by the time it was morning. All the pent-up desire in his blood would probably turn him into a pretzel.

  Abruptly, Sean snorted and stared over the brim of his cup. “Why’d you have to spend so much time with Paige and Whitney?”

  “They’re easy.” Spike picked up his coffee again. “I mean, they’re simple. You know, just two women. And why do you care?”

  “You should have spent more time with Mad.”

  Spike narrowed his eyes on his friend once again. “Are you trying to set us up?”

  “Yes, I am. So the least you can do is be a gentleman about it and try and kiss her after the lights go out.”

  Spike nearly spit out what was in his mouth. “What the hell—”

  “It’s obvious you’re into her.”

  He coughed, trying to clear his windpipe. “How do you figure I like her? I didn’t talk to her all night long.”

  “Precisely. She was the only woman you were not comfortable around. And that spells attraction, buddy. At least the way I see it.”

  “You are deranged.”

  “True. And I’m right, aren’t I? You like her. And like her, like her. Not just like her.”

  Spike rolled his eyes. “Holy hell, I feel like I’m in elementary school with this conversation. Where’s my lunch box?”