by J. R. Ward
He’d just turned the light off when there was a knock.
“Yeah?” he said, sitting up.
The door opened a crack.
“Can I come in for a sec?” Mad’s voice was low.
He yanked the covers up to his chest, very aware of how naked he was. “Ah…sure.”
When she closed the door behind her, he turned the light back on. She was in a black satin bathrobe, her hair dry as if she’d washed it and blown it out. She smelled of the fancy French soap he’d used on himself, as if the whole house was stocked with the stuff. The scent was perfect for her.
As Mad paced around, it seemed like she was working up the nerve to say something, and while silence stretched out, all he could do was watch. And want.
She halted at the foot of the bed. “Are you honestly attracted to me?”
Totally. Completely.
“Ah…yeah. I am.” His eyes lingered on her pale neck and the V where the two halves of the robe came together. “But don’t worry, I’m not an animal or anything. I know how to keep my hands to myself.”
“Why?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Why are you attracted to me?”
Spike frowned. The woman didn’t want him, but was all set to hear the eight thousand things he liked about her? Like she needed the ego boost?
That she was so shallow was a surprise.
“Whatever, Mad. Go back to your room, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.”
She seemed to pale, but then she nodded and took off. Almost as if she were ashamed.
Man, what the hell was that all about?
Spike turned off the light and eased back against the pillows. A split second later, he threw the covers off himself and dragged on a pair of nylon sweats.
* * *
Mad rushed down the hall, feeling like an idiot. Whatever attraction Spike had had toward her down at the pool hadn’t lasted long. He’d seemed disgusted with her just now.
Yeah, well, maybe it was because she was so damn naive. Someone like him, who’d no doubt had…oh, God, dozens of lovers, wouldn’t be interested in a repressed, sexually insecure woman like her.
And though she wished things were different, she couldn’t pretend confidence in the sexual arena. After having been compared unfavorably to the female standard for decades by her father and half brother, after having had men she really liked forget she even existed after they met Amelia, after having lived on boats with guys for four years just like she was one of them, the idea a man wanted her was just…a total flipping surprise.
Then there was the fact that it was Spike.
But she couldn’t have handled the situation down at the pool worse, could she? When he’d gotten out of the water, she hadn’t been prepared for the arousal she’d seen. It had been so unexpected she’d taken a step back out of shock. Which was, of course, not the best reaction if you were actually interested in the guy.
“Mad, wait up!” came from behind her.
She looked over her shoulder. Spike was naked to the waist and coming after her at a jog.
As she got to her bedroom, she rushed to open the door and then slipped inside, not wanting to deal. Except before she could shut him out, Spike crammed his body in the way.
His eyes bored into hers in the tense silence. She wanted to move. Couldn’t make herself turn away.
He looked over her hair, her throat, lower. “I didn’t come to Greenwich to get in bed with you.”
Like she needed to hear that? “Of course you didn’t—”
“But I can’t keep myself from wanting you.”
Mad’s lungs stopped working. Holy…did he just say that?
Yes, you idiot, she thought.
“Do you still want to know why I’m attracted to you?” he whispered.
Feeling like she were sky diving, she said, “Yes.”
“Then let me in.”
Slowly, she opened the door wide. He was the one who shut it.
He stared at her for the longest time. And then he said, quiet as a breath, “How could I not want you? You’re beautiful.”
He reached out and took some of her hair into his wide palm, bringing it to his nose. Then he dropped the dark waves and touched the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her temple.
She jumped as his other hand went to her shoulder.
“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
As he held her face, he caressed her body, that light touch moving up and down her arms, her waist, her hip, across her back…and then around to the front. He was telling her what he liked without words and it was…everything about her.
His hand stopped over her heart and his head bent down to her ear.
“Mad?” His voice was a deep rumble.
She couldn’t breathe. She absolutely couldn’t breathe. “Yes?”
“Will you let me kiss you?”
“Yes,” she sighed.
“Good.” He pulled back and cupped her face. “Because every time I see your mouth, that’s all I can think of doing.”
He covered her lips smoothly, slanting his head, pressing in, arms sliding around her. His mouth moved in a slow, patient way, easing her, enticing her. He was a master at this, she realized. A master at the holding and the taking, his big hard body exactly the kind of anchor she needed to keep standing.
He ended the kiss by shifting away just a little. His cheeks were flushed, his skin heated, his lower body…aroused. She could feel his need against her and was dizzy from the promise of that hard rope of his.
“Don’t stop,” she said, slipping her arms around his neck and bringing him back down.
They kissed forever, bodies melding, mouths moving, hands touching. At some indefinable point, the tenor of it all changed from exploration to a restless, growing hunger.
“Mad…” Spike broke off the kiss and buried his face in her neck. Without warning, his teeth bit down on her a little, then he licked where he’d nipped her. His breath was hot on her skin, his big body straining with need.
But he was reining himself in for her. In this pause, he was controlling himself.
“Mad, just how far do you want this to go?”
She eyed the bed from over his shoulder, wanting to be in it with him. And yet fearing that, too. He was a man to get lost in and even professional sailors couldn’t always save themselves from drowning.
“I don’t know.”
“Then I need to stop now.”
He stepped back and shook his head as if trying to clear it. Then he turned, did something to the front of his sweatpants, and faced her again with a rueful smile.
“Actually, Mad, it’s better we don’t…go there. Honestly, I didn’t come here for that, in spite of what just happened. All I want to do is help you through the weekend.”
Mad dragged in a deep breath and told herself he was right. What was she doing, thinking of having sex with a man she barely knew? For the very first time in her life?
And yet somehow the he’s-just-a-stranger rationale didn’t hold water. She felt like she knew him right through his skin, down to his heart.
Spike kissed his forefinger and placed it on her lips. “Don’t worry, Mad. We’re going to get you to Monday without any more complications than absolutely necessary.”
After he left and the door shut, Mad walked around, feeling like the bedroom was a very well-decorated hamster cage. Eventually, she stopped in front of a window.
The air-conditioning was on in the house, but she desperately needed some fresh air. Flipping the sash’s lock, she threw her shoulder into the effort of getting the thing open, and finally it popped and squeaked. Real air poured into the room, smelling like the night-blooming roses in the garden below.
Getting down on her knees, she propped her forearms on the sill, put her chin on her wrists, and wished he had stayed.
She was twenty-five years old, for God’s sake. Twenty-five, not fifteen. Which meant if she found a man she wanted as a lo
ver, she could have him if he wanted her. And Spike had very definitely wanted her.
So why shouldn’t they be together?
Mad blew out her breath.
Well, for one thing, he’d said he hadn’t come for any kind of quick affair—good Lord, was he with someone already?
No, she thought. Sean would know that and Sean would have told her. Besides, Spike hadn’t seemed as if he were dating anyone when the Doublemint Twins had been on his lap at that party.
So if he didn’t have a woman in his life, why—
Oh, what was she thinking. Even if he were free as a jaybird, she didn’t imagine he’d be in any hurry to get horizontal if he knew she was a virgin. Virginity in a woman, like physical strength, tended to make men a little jumpy. And not in a good way. Hell, maybe Spike would think she’d stalk him like some lovelorn teenager when he left at the end of the weekend.
Shoot, she probably would be tempted to do that already. There was something about that man that made her want to be as close to him as the very clothes he wore. It was those dangerous, dark looks of his. And the fact that over dinner he’d seemed ready to take Richard out back when the man had insulted her. And it was the way Spike had handled that Harley.
But mostly it was the look in his eyes when they met hers. There was kindness in him, deep reserves of kindness.
And that kindness meant she could trust him.
Chapter Six
Thank God for this pool, Spike thought the next morning.
As he stroked through the water, he was working off the burn from an entire night of erotic dreams. Some had been conscious, playing on the ceiling above him as he stared up sightlessly, his hips throbbing with the need to release. But the worst of them had come after he’d slid into an agitated sleep. In those, he could actually feel the heat of her body against his own.
Man, this whole thing with Madeline Maguire was trouble.
Sure, he’d always liked women, had had some pretty heavy-duty sexual needs. Except nothing came close to what he felt like with Mad. During that one kiss with her, he’d become all instinct, nothing but rank male starvation. Holding her, pushing his body against hers, straining like he was lifting a car off the ground, he’d felt as if he’d never had a woman before and would never have one again.
So this was not good. Desperation was no one’s friend in this world and that’s what he’d been. Desperate. Half insane. Needy and out of control.
And the effect had lingered. Was still with him.
When he was finished with his last lap, he shot out of the pool and dried off, feeling the coming warmth of the day already. Linking the towel around his neck, he stared past the pool at a spread right out of House & Garden. The acreage behind the mansion was landscaped to within an inch of its life: carefully selected bushes were clipped into precise shapes, fancy blooming flowers were corralled into beds, lawn was clipped tight as a beard, as if someone had taken a buzz razor to it instead of a mower.
He thought of Mad growing up in this environment. She was too vibrant for all this control. No wonder she preferred the sea….
Well, and then there was her half brother who’d drive anyone off the side of a continent.
Funny, Spike thought. When he’d decided to come to help her out, it hadn’t really mattered why she and her half brother didn’t get along. Now, he wanted to know the why of everything about her.
“You better hurry or you’ll miss breakfast.”
He turned at the sound of her voice. She was standing on the terrace wearing faded jeans and a navy blue polo shirt. Her dark hair was shining in the morning sun and she looked even better than she had in all those dreams he’d had last night.
His heart tripped over itself and fell into his gut. “Hey.”
She focused on the gardens beyond him. “Enjoying the view?”
Now he was. “Quite an estate you have.”
“Oh, it’s never been mine. First it was my father’s. Now it’s Richard’s.”
Spike walked around the deep end of the pool so they weren’t talking over all the water. And the closer he got to her, the more he remembered what she felt like against him.
She smiled at the towel around his neck. “I’m serious about changing fast. If you want food, you better get a move on.”
“How about going out for breakfast with me?” He really didn’t want to sit at a table with her and her half brother and get served by the butler. He wanted her relaxed. At ease. Talking. “There’s got to be somewhere around here that serves pancakes.”
Her smile was slow. “I think I can find you something you’ll like.”
They were on the Harley fifteen minutes later and heading into town. Because it was early, they had the streets mostly to themselves and for Spike, the day seemed to overflow with possibilities.
But then having the woman you wanted on the back of your bike would do that to a guy.
The place she took them to was barely big enough to house the long line of Saturday morning sweet roll shoppers at its counter. The little café had only six tables the size of chessboards off to one side and not even room for a coat rack. Cinnamon permeated the air and so did the down-home smell of baking dough.
“Everyone gets their scones and muffins here,” Mad said as they wended in and out of the dozen or so folks standing in front of an Order Here sign. “But they also do great Belgian waffles, which is close to pancakes, right?”
“Absolutely. I was just after the maple syrup, anyway.”
As they sat down, Spike tried to keep his grin to himself. The great advantage of having two tall people at one little table was that knees touched. Feet brushed. Ankles found ankles.
“Sorry,” she said, retracting her legs.
“Don’t pull back on my account,” he all but growled.
Her eyes shot to his and they both froze. In less than a nanosecond, all he could think about was throwing her over his shoulder and taking her somewhere very private. He even eyed the door.
Whoa…men really were awful, weren’t they?
“Hi, can I get you some coffee?”
As the waitress slid long sheets of mint-green paper onto the table, Spike closed his eyelids and cracked his neck.
Damn it, he was tight as a steel cable. All over.
“That’d be great,” he said to the woman. Although the last thing he needed was more stimulation.
The menus were printed with the words Summer Breakfast Selections at the top and they listed all manner of carbohydrates.
Spike just stared a hole in his without tracking much of anything. He was too aware of every move Mad made across from him: the way she pushed her hair over her shoulder, played with the collar of her polo, shifted in the chair and recrossed her legs.
When the coffee landed, the two giant cups made him wonder where the food would fit on the table. Mad took hers up with relish, sighing as she sipped and he ordered the waffles.
“What about you?” he asked.
She lowered the fat, crockery mug. “This is perfect. Well, maybe two of these.”
He frowned, then just figured she wasn’t a breakfast person.
“Mind if I ask you something personal?” he said after the waitress had left.
Mad rested her coffee on her knee and smiled at him. “Not at all.”
“Did you grow up with Richard? I mean, was he in the house a lot?” Because Spike couldn’t imagine the guy had been any easier to deal with back in the good old days. Richard had no doubt only been a smaller, higher-pitched version of what he’d become as an adult.
“Yes, I grew up with him. His mother and my father divorced when Richard was six. Back then, kids usually stayed with their moms, but there was no way Richard Maguire, Sr. would have that. Much later, I heard that Father paid the woman a lot to get her to relinquish her parental rights.”
“She just walked away?”
“As far as I know, neither Richard nor Amelia has seen her since.”
“That’s cold—wait,
you have a half sister, too?”
Mad picked up her mug and held it in front of her mouth. “Yes.”
“What about your mom?”
“She was Father’s second wife and she was taken away from us too soon. I was four.” Mad took a long sip, a little whistling noise coming out from between her lips as she drank. Then she said, “But at least I have some memories of her.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“Thanks, but it was long ago.”
“What was your father like?”
The coffee went right up in front of her mouth again, obviously a clue she was feeling awkward. “He was…my father.”
“We can change the subject.”
“No…it’s okay. My father…ah, he was a lot like Richard. The two of them look alike.”
“And did they act alike, as well?”
She lowered the mug and traced a pattern on the tabletop with her finger. “Let’s just say prep school was a relief. Matter of fact, I begged to go. And it wasn’t just that Richard and my father could be very cutting. I was always out of place at home.”
“How so?”
“Richard and Amelia are like Barbie dolls. Fair, blond. Perfect. Especially Amelia. Amelia is truly beautiful. She’s spectacular.”
“Spectacular depends on who’s doing the looking.” For example, he was staring at spectacular right now.
“Oh, but you haven’t seen her. Men go nuts over her. Me? I was this lonely, lanky tomboy who wanted to be in the Olympics.” She frowned. “You know, it’s strange. I like myself. I like who I am. I love what I’m doing. But every time I come home, I just hear my father’s voice in my head. Or Richard’s in my ear.”
“Straight up, your half brother’s a pain in the ass.”
“I know.” She smiled. “He’s always been difficult. Though I have to say, our father was equally hard on him. Richard excelled at school and then in business, but it was never good enough. None of us were good enough for Father. I was the sports without the grace. Amelia was the beauty without the depth. Richard was the brains without the brawn. Father used to say, if the three of us were one person, we could really be something. I coped by leaving. Richard coped by turning into him.”