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The Rich Boy
Leah Vale


It's The Biggest Story Never ToldIf Madeline Monroe can dig up enough dirt on the mysterious "Lost Millionaires," now claiming to be real McCoys, it would prove once and for all that she's a serious reporter and not just another pretty face. Unfortunately, one of the McCoys is an old flame, so getting her career on the fast track could mean getting burned again.Alexander McCoy is tempted to turn to Madeline the way he did before. But the awful scandal he's uncovered has to stay secret, and the glamorous blonde is the last person he can confide in–because she was the first to teach him about







His whole life had been a lie

Tuning out the chatter from the party in full swing on the other side of the study’s locked doors, Alexander McCoy slumped back in the big desk chair. He stared at the scrawled signature at the bottom of the handwritten page, tugging loose his black tuxedo’s traditional bow tie. If only he could tune out the betrayal as easily.

The well-respected McCoy family, one of the richest in the nation, had a dirty little secret. And Alex’s parentage was the worst part of it.

Even if he could harbor any doubts, he would have a hard time dismissing the word of the McCoys’ longtime family lawyer.

The truth beat in his head in cadence with the music coming from the small parlor off the foyer of his family’s mansion. His brother was his father, and the man he believed to be his father was his grandfather.

My God.


Dear Reader,

Welcome back to Dependable, Missouri, one last time. I hope you had the chance to pick up and enjoy the first three books in my THE LOST MILLIONAIRES series: The Bad Boy, The Cowboy and The Marine. In this book, The Rich Boy, Alexander McCoy finally has his story told.

We saw him struggling to deal with his new identity in the first three books, but now he has to do so with a cagey reporter dogging his heels. A woman he dated seven years ago. Not only does he have to keep the truth of his parentage a secret from her, he also has to avoid any rekindling of his feelings for her.

Madeline Monroe is a woman with something to prove. But can she earn the career move from entertainment news to hard news at the cost of the man she’s never been able to forget? Or will she sacrifice all to show Alex his true destiny?

I hope you enjoy this last installment in THE LOST MILLIONAIRES series. I’d love to hear from you. I can be reached at www.leahvale.com, or at P.O. Box 91337, Portland, OR 97291.

Leah Vale


The Rich Boy

Leah Vale






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This one’s for my boys.

Thank you so much for loving mac and cheese.

You guys are the best.




Books by Leah Vale


HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

924—THE RICH MAN’S BABY

936—THE RICH GIRL GOES WILD

957—BIG-BUCKS BACHELOR

1002—MACDOUGAL MEETS HIS MATCH

1026—THE BAD BOY

1034—THE COWBOY

1057—THE MARINE

1065—THE RICH BOY




Contents


Chapter One (#ucd873ff1-b9cf-5b02-bb4f-be8c9e556690)

Chapter Two (#u95c7d974-7d0a-5a26-9f0e-804e6dd24d61)

Chapter Three (#ufabe626d-8e0c-5043-b9cc-0a42693b6740)

Chapter Four (#u1d1d3eb5-f7ec-54da-a82e-07c70d6c798b)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


I, Marcus Malcom McCoy, being of sound mind, yadda, yadda, yadda, do hereby acknowledge as my biological progeny the first born to Helen Metzger, Ann Branigan, Bonnie Larson and Nadine Anders et al, who have been paid a million dollars each for their silence. Upon my death and subsequent reading of this addendum to my last will and testament, they shall inherit equal portions of my estate and, excepting Helen’s child, Alexander, who already has the privilege, immediately take their rightful places in the family and family business, whatever it may be at that time. Marcus M. McCoy

Tuning out the chatter from the party in full swing on the other side of the study’s locked doors, Alexander McCoy slumped back in the big desk chair. He stared at the scrawled signature at the bottom of the handwritten page, tugging loose his black tuxedo’s traditional bow tie. If only he could tune out the burn of betrayal as easily.

For what seemed to be the hundredth time, he had to admit to himself that he was definitely looking at the signature of the man he’d spent his life believing to be his brother. The brother he’d initially admired, then set out to be as different from as possible. And only Marcus would have had the nerve to belittle legalities by actually writing yadda, yadda, yadda, especially on something as important as an addendum to his last will and testament.

Even if Alex could harbor any doubts, he would have a hard time dismissing the word of David Weidman. The McCoys’ longtime family lawyer had witnessed Marcus write the addendum—though David claimed not to have read the document before sealing it into the heavy cream envelope that bore his signature and noting the existence of the unorthodox addendum in the actual will.

The will had been read nearly a month ago, four days after Marcus was killed on June 8, while fly-fishing in Alaska, by a grizzly bear that hadn’t appreciated the competition. Before the reading, Alex had grieved for the relationship he’d hoped to one day develop with his much older brother. Now…

Of all the ways Alex’s jet-setting, “client-relations” guru brother—father—could have met an untimely end, this suddenly seemed the most apropos. Maybe it was the price Marcus had had to pay for being so cavalier with the truth. A truth that had changed everything.

Alexander’s whole life had been a lie.

The well-respected McCoy family, one of the richest in the nation, had a dirty little secret. And Alex’s actual parentage was the worst part of it.

The truth beat in his head in cadence with the music coming from the small parlor off the foyer of his family’s mansion. His brother was his father, and the man he’d believed to be his father was his grandfather.

My God.

Alex swiped a hand over his eyes. He’d tried his damnedest to push the reality from his mind these past weeks, focusing on the challenge of keeping the revelations in Marcus’s will from blowing up into a monster PR disaster. But for whatever reason, tonight he’d snapped. While hundreds of people, including his three new half brothers, celebrated his grandfather’s seventy-fifth birthday in true Joseph McCoy style, all Alex could do was stare at the document that had turned his life upside down.

Try as he may, he could not deny that the shattering words had been penned by Marcus’s own hand. The same hand that had so often waved off a younger brother’s pleas for a scrap of attention. A younger brother who in reality was a son.

With nearly a twenty-year difference in their ages, it had made sense at the time that Marcus wouldn’t have much interest in Alex. Knowing what he did now, he damn near doubled over from the ache in his chest.

And Helen! She’d doted on him more like a mother than the family’s longtime housekeeper. Because she was his mother.

Alex shoved out of the chair, swallowing bile. He paced to the wall of books on one side of the room, the heels of his gleaming black dress shoes sharp on the hardwood. He then crossed to the wall of windows on the opposite side, the heavy, burgundy velvet curtains still closed after being drawn this afternoon to protect the books and mahogany furnishings from the early-July sun.

Helen had tried to explain right after the reading of the will why she had agreed to Joseph and Elise’s plan. He’d been in no mood to hear any excuses. So she had wisely given him his space when it became clear he needed time to process what was happening to him. Now he wasn’t so sure he was capable of processing it, regardless of time.

At least Elise didn’t have to face the turmoil of being outed as his grandmother instead of being known as a woman who’d been blessed with the late gift of another child, as she’d always claimed. This was the only good thing to come out of her passing from cancer ten years earlier.

Alex couldn’t help wondering how much of her love had actually been guilt.

Finally, there was Joseph McCoy, the man who had built a billion-dollar retail empire off the motto Don’t Trust It If It’s Not From The Real McCoy. Joseph had beamed with pride when Alex had set out from an early age to give his “father” a son he could be proud of. A son who lived his life with the sort of integrity and drive that would take the family and corporation to even greater heights. A true teammate to Joseph.

So far Alex had succeeded.

Something Marcus had never managed to do.

Was that why Marcus had decided to reach from the grave and destroy Alex’s world? There had never been any sign of “sibling” rivalry from Marcus. Still, who could say what had been going on inside his head.

Alex moved to the fireplace and the painted portrait of Joseph, Elise and Marcus that hung above it, focusing on the ten-year-old boy with the same black hair and dark blue eyes that Alex possessed. Sure, Marcus had done the right thing in acknowledging his other children. But why claim his first child? Alex fisted his hands and slammed them down on the mantel. He was already a McCoy!

A knock on the door to the study jerked Alex from the downward spiral he seemed doomed to succumb to. He turned to stare at the oversize door. He had no intention of answering; he realized the last place he should be right now in such a dark mood was at a party.

Particularly one for Joseph.

The man Alex had thought was his father.

Alex couldn’t decide if he was angrier at Marcus for turning his world on end or at Joseph for not telling him the truth of his paternity long ago.

He needed out of here. Out of this house.

Since there was no way he could get his car from the garage with all the catering trucks and limos and town cars clogging the circular drive, he’d have to settle for escaping to the stable.

He waited long enough for whoever had knocked to give up and go away, before he unlocked the door. Then he slipped out of the study. It was like stepping into a noisy, glittering sauna saturated with the cloying scents of gardenias and roses from the huge floral arrangements covering tables that lined nearly every wall, scents that competed with perfumes and aftershaves.

The wide hall between the domed foyer and the rear of the house was oppressively packed with people wearing everything from formal wear to Sunday best because Joseph was known for inviting a wide range of guests. Barons of industry were elbow to elbow with mail clerks who had caught Joseph’s notice by going above and beyond the call of duty.

The crowd appeared to be making its way toward the expansive stone veranda that ran the length of the house out back, undoubtedly intent on staking out spots to watch the pre-Fourth of July, McCoys-love-America fireworks.

“Alexander!” Peter Carver, McCoy Enterprises’ chief financial officer, hailed Alex as he approached.

Peter raised his punch glass. “Your dad really went all out this time.”

Smoke and mirrors. Alex forced a smile and murmured in agreement. He continued to inch his way through the hall. If he could make it to the door to the kitchen, he could break through and—

No. Helen would be there, coordinating the caterer’s efforts, even though Joseph had specifically asked her to consider herself a guest for the night, not an employee. She wouldn’t listen—she never did—because everyone knew she’d stopped considering herself an employee a long time ago.

Now Alex understood why.

The healthy breakfast waiting for him every morning regardless of his schedule.

The special late-night tonics when the stresses of running a billion-dollar corporation started to show.

He contracted his abs against the sick feeling in his stomach. He’d just as soon not bump into her tonight.

Peter worked his way to Alex’s side and leaned toward him. “Marcus would have been pleased.”

By the huge, gaudy birthday party with everybody who was anybody in attendance, yes. By the fact that Joseph was using his seventy-fifth birthday to publicly welcome three of Marcus’s previously secret illegitimate sons into the family, probably not.

Alex simply nodded in response.

Despite the risk of being jostled, Peter took a drink of his punch. Alex could tell Peter wasn’t sure what to say or do for him when it came to the subject of Marcus’s death.

Those within the upper ranks of the company were aware that Alex and Marcus hadn’t been particularly close as brothers, age difference aside. Alex enjoyed focusing on business; Marcus had focused on the business of enjoyment.

But because of their age difference, Alex couldn’t believe there wasn’t some speculation going on, now that the existence of Marcus’s other sons had quietly been made public.

To counter the speculation and hopefully put an end to it, Alex had been trying to act normally for the past month. Maybe he should have appeared to be grieving more.

He was grieving. For a lot of things.

When they reached the wall of French doors, which had been thrown wide, Alex said to Peter, “The north end of the veranda is the best place to view the fireworks.” He pointed in the direction he meant.

Peter smiled. “Thanks.” Certainly he already knew as much. Peter had worked for them for years, hired by Sara Barnes’s father back when he was VP of operations before his deadly heart attack.

Alex waved lamely and headed in the opposite direction, sticking to the shadows near the house to avoid the crowd and notice. God, he really needed to be alone.

Because the one thing he was grieving most for was the death of his ability to trust.

DESPITE THE FACT that she was conducting an interview, Madeline Monroe thought she’d caught a glimpse of a midnight-black McCoy head above the crowd in the hall, emerging from the door she just happened to know led to the study.

Keeping her microphone steady in front of the mouth of Dependable’s mayor as he yammered on as though he’d actually had a hand in the prosperity of the town’s ten thousand or so inhabitants, Madeline faked a flip of her shoulder-length blond hair. She leaned slightly toward the carved balustrade of the staircase to confirm what she’d seen—a risky move, considering the mayor wasn’t tall and she’d had him stand on the stair above her so she didn’t tower over him in the strappy heels that matched her long red dress.

For professional purposes, which McCoy she might have seen didn’t matter—her producers wanted any of them on camera as much as possible. But the little burp her pulse gave forced her to admit that she hoped it was Alexander McCoy. She steadied herself on her spot a few steps up on one of the grand, sweeping staircases that framed the cavernous foyer of the mansion named the Big House. The McCoys seriously needed to get over themselves.

Just as she needed to get over Alex. They’d barely dated, for cripes’ sake, and seven years ago at that. Pestering him daily for an interview since the news first broke of “The Lost Millionaires” had apparently reawakened whatever she might have felt for him earlier.

Which was stupid, because she didn’t intend to be some rich guy’s eye candy any more now than she had then.

Dan, her cameraman, made a noise from behind his camera and jerked her attention back to the mayor. Not that her producers would choose to include any of this interview with His Honor in her segment. They wouldn’t think the viewers of Entertainment This Evening cared about the civic leaders of a quaint northwest Missouri town. All the viewers cared about was the town’s most famous and powerful residents, the billionaire McCoys.

Especially now that their previously spotless reputation as bastions of morality sported three very big stains. Illegitimate heirs to millions popping out of the mahogany were journalistic platinum to shows such as ETE. And if she could dig beyond the official family press release and find some real dirt, she might finally be taken seriously by the hard-news shows she’d been trying to break into for years.

The journalistic sixth sense she was beginning to trust screamed that a fourth stain on their spotless reputation lurked beneath the surface here at the Big House.

A cryptic phone call yesterday before dawn to her voice mail from the first illegitimate heir brought into the fold, Cooper Anders, had raised the hairs on her arm. When she’d met with him, though, he’d claimed only to want to inform her of yet another good deed his new grandfather had done. But his call had got her thinking.

And doing some math.

Worried that Alexander might slip away from her yet again, Madeline praised the mayor for being a shining example of local government, thanked him for his insightful comments and sent him on his way back down the stairs.

Dan lowered his camera and stepped toward her, stopping her from following the mayor. “Maddy, you do realize, don’t you, that he talked almost exclusively about the giant flowerpots hanging all over town, which Joseph McCoy provided? Not exactly insightful stuff.”

Madeline cringed. “Really?”

He gave an exaggerated nod.

“Oops.”

He put a foot on the step above them, his all-terrain boots undoubtedly leaving something on the chenille-like carpet, and balanced the heavy camera on his black jean-clad thigh. Black jeans and a black T-shirt were the closest Dan Gurtings would ever get to a tuxedo. He left the dress-up stuff to the talent assigned to him. Which for the past four years had been her.

His look was speculative. “Not like you at all, Monroe. You’re normally spot-on. What gives?”

“A black-haired, blue-eyed, uptight god by the name of Alexander McCoy, that’s what. Make that who.” Then, realizing what else Dan had said, she drew her chin back. “Spot-on? You really need to stop hanging around with those BBC cameramen, Danny boy.”

Madeline eased down a step. With the crush of people in the hall, she doubted that Alex had managed to get far. If she had indeed seen Alex.

The black head could have belonged to Cooper Anders, who was tall, dark and gorgeous, as well. At some point she had to get a decent interview out of him, also.

Dan dismissed her recommendation with a wave. “I watched the latest Harry Potter movie with my kid last night because he wasn’t feeling all that great. Residual Brit influence.”

“How did you manage that, considering little Dan is in L.A. and you were at the Super 8 in flowerpot-festooned Dependable?”

“Pay-per-view and a cell phone. He mostly just wanted to hear me laugh and gasp in all the right places.”

“I hope you have unlimited minutes. Those are long movies.”

He grinned in the way that softened his rugged, not-quite-handsome face and made him utterly appealing. “No kidding. But at least it made Danny feel better.”

“You’re a good man, Big Dan. Was Connie there?”

The grin faded and he shrugged. “Somewhere.”

Dan’s long absences while on assignment—this time a month already—strained his marriage. He claimed Connie understood, but Madeline wasn’t so sure.

Yet another reason not to become seriously involved with a man of her own while she chased her dream. She wanted to be able to up and leave at a moment’s notice, without suffering from guilt because of whom she was leaving behind.

Her parents made her feel bad enough. But then, she was always falling short of their approval.

To distract herself and Dan, she grabbed his sleeve. “Come on. Let’s see if we can catch up with whichever McCoy just came out of the study and joined the party.”

Dan balked. “Maddy, you know the deal. We have to stay in one place. And that place is right here on the stairs.” He eyed the not-so-casual lineup of politicians, celebrities and corporate executives hoping to be called up for an on-camera interview.

The flashy bunch tried to look as though they just happened to stop to chat at the base of this particular staircase, but years of experience gained at award shows and charity functions had taught Madeline otherwise. In a culture where people could be famous simply by being famous, their tenacity made perfect sense.

She leaned close to Dan and kept her voice low. “Normally I’d be psyched to have this kind of who’s-who hanging around me, hoping to snag a little free publicity and the cachet from being in any way associated with the mighty McCoys.”

“What’s different?”

“I’m sure in my gut that a real story’s to be had here, Dan. If only we can get to it.”

He made a face. “All you’ll end up getting is us thrown out on our rears.”

“Hey, that smacks of doubt in my abilities, bub,” she warned with zero seriousness. Dan was the only person who came close to acknowledging her potential as a reporter, and they had a good working relationship.

She aimed a freshly manicured finger at him. “Just as the exclusive coverage arrangement Joseph McCoy offered us smacks of manipulation. He agreed to let us in so he could control us, and he’s doing it by making us camp out on the stairs.”

Dan rolled his dark brown eyes. “Well, duh.”

“If he didn’t have something to hide, then he wouldn’t be restricting us, would he?”

Dan blew out a breath and glanced around as if checking for hidden cameras.

Madeline said, “Look. I’ll go. You stay here. As long as the lights and camera are where they’re supposed to be, we’ll still technically be keeping our end of the bargain.” She waved a hand at the foyer. “Tape some crowd and endorsement shots. Preston will love it if you can get a senator to say ‘Stay tuned to Entertainment This Evening.’”

Their producers lived and breathed famous names and faces and the ratings boosts they gave the show. Preston Estcomb in particular didn’t care about real news.

But unearthing a decent story would be the only way she’d prove to the world she had more to her than the hand-me-down Miss Central USA crown. Which, after seven years, was more than a little dusty.

Dan sighed again. “They’re more likely to agree to do a promo if you ask them. You’re better at it than I am.”

“Though not as good as some.”

Dan snorted a laugh, fortunately appreciative of her self-deprecating humor. Yet she wasn’t sure he realized how much always being second best bothered her.

Madeline’s claim to fame was hers only because the pageant’s winner that year had been caught in a sex scandal with a congressman and been forced to step down. As first runner-up, Madeline had been called upon to take her place.

Madeline hadn’t earned the title any more than she’d earned her current fluff reporter job. The knowledge chewed on her self-esteem like a sharp-toothed rodent intent on destruction.

Understanding warming his dark eyes, Dan jerked his head toward the teeming hall. “Go. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you’re in the powder room. You’re a woman. They’ll understand if it takes you a while to get back.”

She grinned her thanks. “Especially in this dress.” She tugged at the form-fitting, beaded red sheath. “Is your cell on?”

He put a hand to the small phone clipped to his belt. “On Vibrate, but yeah.”

“Good.” She bent and retrieved her clutch, which contained her phone, from Dan’s equipment bag. “I’ll call you if the planets align and a certain someone decides to spill his guts to me on camera. That would be worth abandoning our assigned spot here.”

“That it would. Normally I wouldn’t bother wishing you luck, because the Maddy Monroe magic keeps you from needing luck, but this time I don’t think it’d hurt. Good luck.”

“Sheesh. Thanks for the vote of confidence, chief.”

“Just calling it like I see it. The McCoy boys are too pretty themselves to be swayed by pretty faces.”

Suddenly thankful she hadn’t confided in Dan after all about the short time she’d dated Alexander McCoy, Madeline turned and hurried down the remaining stairs. If she had, then he’d know just how true that statement really was.

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.”

Madeline had a sneaking suspicion that Joseph was the last person Alex wanted to be summoned to right now.

After her, that is.

He clearly needed time alone during which he wouldn’t be forced into putting his “party face” on. It would be the only reason that responsible, reliable Alex would take off into the night the way he had during the middle of such an important party.

The memory of the despair in his voice pinched Madeline in the heart.

The man deserved a break, so on the off chance he cut his moonlight ride short and returned soon, she lied. “You know, before I left the house I think I overheard Senator Percy saying something about Alex promising to show him that eight-car garage this place has and all the big-boy toys filling it. You might find him there.”

Sara blew out a breath and rolled her eyes heavenward in obvious relief. “Oh, good.” Looking again at Madeline, Sara smiled, and it appeared genuine enough to prick Madeline’s conscience. “Thank you very much.”

As Sara stepped back through the door, she said, “I hope you’re getting some good material for your segment. I know Joseph appreciates your professionalism and integrity.”

Oh, yeah, she was professional all right, begging some guy for scraps in a horse stall. And her integrity, well, she’d just given a fine example of that.

Sara raised a hand in farewell. “Have a nice break. But don’t miss the fireworks. They’re definitely worth seeing.”

Madeline returned the wave and forced a smile. “Thank you. I won’t.”

She would stay just long enough to bang her head against the nearest post. The only thing she’d found out for sure tonight was that there was nothing “former” about her feelings for the man she was supposed to be doing an exposé on.

And it scared the hell out of her.




Chapter Three


His navy pinstripe suit coat bunched at his shoulders and his dark blue silk tie uncharacteristically loosened, Alex stared at the pile of papers that had accumulated on his desk since he’d last been at McCoy Enterprises headquarters.

Morning sunshine flooded his big corner office on the fourteenth floor, making all the leather and mahogany furnishings he occasionally found oppressive radiate warmth and luxury. The cup of freshly brewed coffee Peggy had just brought in and set within easy reach filled the air with rich aroma.

A dark, gloomy day and a shot of throat-stinging whiskey would have been more appropriate to his mood than a scene straight from a Maxwell House commercial.

He’d tried like hell since the night of the party to beat this funk that had overtaken him, to move past the lies, to come to grips with them. But no matter how far or fast he rode or how long he brooded in his suite of rooms, the fact remained that his entire sense of self had been shaken to the very root.

He pushed aside the pile of papers that needed his attention, planted his elbows on the huge mahogany desk and buried his hands in his hair to support his head. So much for work distracting him enough to get him through the day.

The only thing—or more accurately, person—to distract him for so much as a moment had been a beautiful blonde with blue eyes so pale they reminded him of the most expensive aquamarines. A woman he’d never quite been able to forget, even knowing she’d dated him to get Joseph to help her land a high-profile job suited to a former beauty queen.

Entertainment news. Give me a break.

Now that his head was full of images of her in the moonlight, her beaded dress catching the glow and hugging her curves like a red silk sheet and her eyes brimming with compassion, she would haunt him forever at some level.

The hinges on the door to his office creaked in the way a door only creaks when someone is trying to open it silently. Lifting just his gaze, he watched the oversize mahogany door inch open.

Man, he hoped he hadn’t scared Peggy when she’d brought his coffee in. The ability to engage in pleasantries seemed beyond him lately.

Hopefully those outside the family-secrets loop would continue to assume Marcus’s death was the cause of Alex’s unusual behavior. The excuse wouldn’t last forever, though. If only he knew what to do to get back to as close to normal as possible.

A face finally appeared around the door to his office, but it wasn’t his personal assistant’s sharply angular one, which was in such opposition to her gentle nature yet perfectly matched her detail-oriented efficiency. Instead, the gleaming blond hair, softly rounded chin and jaw, full mouth, slender nose and arresting light blue eyes belonged to a woman considered worthy of representing a whole section of the country.

The very woman he’d just been thinking of.

Maddy Monroe was letting herself in.

Unannounced.

Uninvited.

Definitely unwelcome.

Her pale blue gaze landed on his, and after a heartbeat’s hesitation, during which he almost believed he saw trepidation, she smiled her glossy TV smile. “Alex! Got a minute?”

She was in reporter mode. Even if she wasn’t and she tempted him to think of her as a friend—or more than a friend—as she had the other night with her tender, understanding eyes and soothing voice, he had to resist talking to her. He couldn’t talk to anyone because no one could possibly understand what he was going through.

He lifted his head from his hands and slumped back in his chair. “No. I don’t.”

She slipped through the door and closed it behind her anyway. Her pastel pink blouse and white slacks weren’t as camera-ready as the jackets and skirts she usually wore, but they had probably allowed her to slip unnoticed onto the top executive floor. “This will be quick, I swear.”

He smoothed a hand down his dark blue tie to straighten it against his shirt. “Yes, it will. Because you’re leaving.” He gestured at the door she was inching away from.

“Just a couple of questions, Alex. Please,” she begged prettily, but there was a quaver to her voice. He halted in the middle of reaching for his coffee cup.

Unwisely wondering what was going on with her, he ran his gaze over her more carefully. For the most part, she appeared as polished as usual, though she’d used a little more makeup beneath her eyes and her sleek blond hair looked as if she’d shoved her hands through it. Nothing particularly telling, but nonetheless noteworthy for the perfectly groomed woman he’d known.

He picked up his coffee cup and held it between his fingertips, staring into the black liquid. He could see her in his mind’s eye, smell her even with the aroma of strong coffee right under his nose.

Great. Ignoring her wouldn’t work. He’d have to drive her away.

He raised his gaze to hers as casually as possible and asked, “Being granted the exclusive right to cover Joseph McCoy’s birthday party wasn’t enough for you?”

They’d only offered ETE access to the party to better control media coverage of the event. Whether she’d figured that out or not shouldn’t matter to her when the deal had benefited her and her show so much. Plus, granting the exclusive had saved his family from having to put up with her reporting from a helicopter over their heads. The woman was nothing if not tenacious.

He added, “Considering the guest list, I would think your producers would be damn near giddy with the job you did.”

She slid into one of the comfortable round-backed, mahogany-and-leather chairs facing his desk. “Oh, they’re pleased, all right.” She didn’t appear particularly excited to have made her bosses happy. She steadily met his gaze. “But I’m not done here yet. I still need to talk to you.”

She held up a hand to stop him before he could open his mouth to say forget it. “I know you prefer to be the ‘behind the scenes guy,’ staying mostly out of the public eye. Which is why I came without Dan Gurtings, my cameraman, or a recorder or my notebook.”

She spread her hands wide as if to offer proof that there were no unusual lumps or bumps on her person. With the way her silky blouse and flat-front slacks fit her curves, he’d already noticed.

He snorted at her concession and set his coffee back down untasted. “Funny how that also made it easier for you to slip past security.”

One corner of her lightly glossed mouth twitched upward before she visibly schooled her features. “Joseph has given me an interview, albeit a short one, and Cooper Anders called me to set up a meeting….”

Alex did his damnedest not to react. Heaven help them if Cooper had spoken to Maddy before Sara had convinced him with good old-fashioned love to give up his quest for revenge against the McCoys.

But if Cooper had revealed anything negative, Maddy wouldn’t be fishing so hard. Cooper would have also warned them, especially now that he and Sara were engaged.

When Alex continued to do nothing more than impassively watch her despite the tension slow to leave his body, her delicate nostrils flared slightly in exasperation and she continued. “But I’d really like to talk to you about…everything that has happened to your family as a result of Marcus’s death.”

“I thought I’d made myself pretty clear the other night—”

“I know there is more going on here, Alex. I know it in my gut just from looking at you. You’re not yourself.”

Lord, there was a truth if he’d ever heard one. Everything he’d based his sense of self on had been a lie. Just as in the stable, the temptation to open up and confide in her about his confusion, his heartache, pulled at him with remarkable strength.

She had been so easy to talk to all those years ago, always willing to simply listen rather than trying to impress him in some way. Madeline Monroe had been the first woman he’d met who appealed to him physically but at the same time had made him feel so at ease.

After she took the on-air reporter job with Entertainment This Evening, he’d tried to convince himself that her approachability, her understanding, had all been an act to get closer to Joseph. The eldest McCoy’s influential ties to the media far exceeded his own, but a huge part of him had wanted to believe better of her.

Now was not the time to risk testing her sincerity.

He rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and tented his fingers in front of him. “As you said the other night, people change.”

“Not without cause,” she protested.

He lobbed the argument right back to her court. “And what caused you to change?”

“Nothing. I—we’re not discussing me. We’re discussing you.”

“No, we’re not, Maddy. You’re leaving.” He leaned forward and reached for the intercom button on his phone. “Peggy?”

“She’s not at her desk,” Maddy interjected.

“She just brought me this coffee—” He stopped himself. “I’m sure she wasn’t at her desk when you arrived, or you would never have been able to slip in. She’s undoubtedly back by now.” He pressed the buzzer that would signal he needed his executive assistant.

Peggy normally let him know if she was stepping away for any amount of time. But thanks to his dark mood this morning, she’d probably figured he’d prefer not being disturbed.

“I doubt it. Seems someone told her that her car alarm had been triggered, and she had to go down to disarm it.” Only a vague smugness could be found in the slight upward curl at the corners of Maddy’s mouth. Otherwise, she was all wide-eyed innocence.

Yeah, right.

“Is it?” he asked.

She nodded. “Funny how those things just keep going off.”

“Is that where your cameraman is? Bumping a certain white BMW?” He automatically cocked his head to listen, despite being fourteen floors up behind a curtain wall of thick tinted glass.

A perfectly arched blond brow twitched higher and she shrugged. The woman had no shame.

Ridiculously he found himself liking her spunk and drive, much the way he had all those years ago when they’d dated.

Before he’d found out he’d been a mere stepping stone to get to his father—damn it, his grandfather—for help landing a job. A stab of hurt, surprisingly strong despite the long passage of time, nailed him in the ribs at the thought of how she’d used him.

And he hadn’t even slept with her.

She leaned forward, her gaze intense. “What is going on, Alex?”

His tenuous grip on his control slipped and he slammed his palm down on his desk. “Marcus McCoy was mauled to death by a freakin’ huge bear, and because of that, we found out he had sons out of wedlock. Is that entertaining enough news for you, Maddy?”

She bolted up from the chair and reached over the desk to cover his hand with hers, her eyes glistening. “I know, Alex. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She ran her thumb gently over his. “I should have realized it was grief. I just…Frankly, I didn’t think you and Marcus were that close.”

Alex dropped his gaze to their hands and clenched his jaw against the cutting certainty of how close he and Marcus should have been.

In that soft, caring voice of hers, Maddy continued, “And Joseph has been so overjoyed to have discovered his grandsons…Is he simply hiding his grief?”

The soothing touch of her hand on his jumbled Alex’s emotions further. “No, he really is overjoyed to have Marcus’s children in his life.”

And aside from omitting the fact that Marcus had paid each of their mothers a million dollars to tell no one he was the father, Joseph was willing to let the world learn the truth about them. Only Alex would still be saddled with barbed secrets.

The bitterness from having been lied to for so long seared Alex from the inside out. He slid his hand from beneath Maddy’s, shoved out of his chair and paced toward the floor-to-ceiling window. His head had started to pound again.

From behind him she said, “I only wondered because Joseph—”

He halfway glanced at her over his shoulder. “Look, Madeline, I don’t want to talk about my grandfather, either, okay?”

He turned back to the window and raised a hand to rub his temple. He didn’t want to so much as think about Joseph, Marcus or Helen. How was he supposed to pretend that nothing had changed when everything about his world had changed?

“I knew it,” Maddy almost whispered.

Certain his refusal to talk about Joseph couldn’t be that surprising to her, he faced her. “What—?” Her wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression stopped him cold.

She rose slowly from her chair, musing, “I did the math, and I just couldn’t buy the coincidence. I mean, you’re dang near the same age as the others.”

The hair rose on the back of Alex’s neck. “What are you talking about, Madeline?”

She came closer, her incredible eyes searching his face. “You didn’t know, did you? Oh, my—” She put a hand over her mouth, as if something in his expression confirmed her suspicion.

He did his damnedest to shutter all the hurt. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She took her hand from her mouth and touched it to his sleeve. “Alex, you called Joseph your grandfather. You said you didn’t want to talk about your grandfather.”

Alex’s breath was knocked out of him as though he’d just fallen from a galloping horse onto hard-packed earth.

Holy crap.

All this time he’d struggled to break the habit of calling Joseph by what had been a lie, and his subconscious decided now to get it right.

Holy heaping crap.

But maybe that same subconscious had glommed on to the idea of opening up to Madeline, of confessing his burden of pain and a marrow-deep bitterness that scared the hell out of him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because mixed in with the sympathy glistening in her eyes, a sympathy he strangely didn’t doubt, was the gleam of triumph that tore through him like a sharp hoof.

He’d handed her the story of a career; the McCoys under glass, stuffed, braised and ready to be torn apart by the media. Now everyone—not just the family and those who’d had to—would find out that Joseph McCoy, an increasingly lone bastion of morality in corporate America, had lied to protect his son.

His only son.

Alex’s stomach pitched. “You misheard me, Maddy.”

Pity, as clear as day, tugged the corners of her mouth downward. “I didn’t, Alex. You know I didn’t.”

“I know no such thing, Miss Monroe.”

Her fingers curled into his coat sleeve, bunching the pinstripes as she tightened her grip. Not a hint of victory remained in her turbulent eyes. But he’d seen the triumph, and he’d never forget the look. “Oh, Alex, don’t.”

He willed himself to turn to stone. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t shut me out.”

He did just that. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

“Because I was certain you were trying to deal with something—”

He sent her a sarcastic smile. “The horrible loss of a family member? And what did you plan to do about this something?”

“I—” She faltered.

Thank God lying to get a story hadn’t become second nature to her. Yet. And because he was now forced to make lying second nature to him, he couldn’t rightly throw mud at her.

He placed his hand over hers, squeezed once in regret for what might have been between them, then removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. “You came for a story you could sensationalize. That’s fine—it’s your job. I understand. Just please don’t pretend otherwise.” His voice cracked. Damn it!

She shook her head, biting her lip.

He fisted his hands and forced himself to play hardball. “But if you try to use what you thought you heard here today, I’ll vehemently deny everything. It will be your word against mine. A TV gossip reporter with a clear agenda versus a grieving McCoy.”

He knew what he was about to say would be an even cheaper shot, but he had no choice. “Don’t forget who landed you the job in the first place.”

That one did the trick. The empathy cleared from her eyes. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I am well aware of why I was hired for my job. Which is why I’m hell-bent on earning what I now consider a better one.”

He acknowledged her ambition with a nod. “Fine. Just don’t expect a hand up from me.”

“Fine. Because I don’t want a hand up from anyone.”

He jerked his head toward the door. “Then have a good day, Miss Monroe.”

Her chin went up another notch. “I will.” She whirled and marched away. Halfway across the room she stopped, the stiffness draining from her shoulders.

Alex’s heart tripped, then started to pound with a trepidation that vaguely resembled hope. What he wouldn’t give for his control back.

Madeline slowly faced him. Much of the indignation was gone from her expression, replaced by a caring hardened with determination. “But I’m not walking away from this, Alexander. From you. I know what I heard, and I know how bad finding out something like that would be for you. I can see how bad it is.”

She took a step closer. “I don’t think you’ll be okay until you get the truth out in the open, where you can deal with it. I’m going to make sure that happens.”

With sudden clarity, Alex realized there was only one way he would be able to deal with it.

He turned to his desk, grabbed his keys from the top drawer and headed straight for the door.

Watching him stride past, Maddy said, “Where are you going?”

Without looking at her, he answered, “That’s for me to know and you not to find out.”

He needed to get the hell away before he slipped up in front of anyone else. As if slipping up in front of Maddy Monroe weren’t bad enough. Not just because she was a reporter, entertainment or otherwise. She was the only woman who’d ever made him feel like simply a man.

A man who only wanted to be loved for who he was inside, not for his name and money.

How ironic, since he no longer had a clue who that was.




Chapter Four


So much for the Maddy Monroe magic.

Madeline flinched when Alex’s office door smacked against its stopper, but she couldn’t take her eyes from his broad back as he stormed away. The stiffness in his shoulders radiated fury, frustration and hurt.

Poor Alex. Her heart folded in on itself, smothering any jubilation she might have felt from the vindication.

Alexander McCoy was actually Marcus McCoy’s son, not Joseph’s.

She’d been right.

Good heavens, who was his biological mother? Had that been revealed in the will, also? Or had Joseph told Alex afterward?

Madeline couldn’t fathom what it would feel like to discover being lied to about something so monumental, something so defining. Her own parents might be critical of her and set on what they wanted for her, but she’d never questioned that ultimately they loved her in their way.

Alex must be ripped to shreds by doubt.

Her eyes filled with tears again and every particle in her ached for him with an intensity that scared her.

She’d spent several sleepless nights attempting to banish once and for all her feelings for Alex. She’d thought she had succeeded. Obviously, to some degree, she’d been wrong.

Focus on the story.

And currently, the story was walking out the door. While not quite as bad, his vow to leave town ranked right up there with hearing another girl’s name announced as the winner by Miss Central’s master of ceremonies. Alex couldn’t take off. Not yet.

She set her jaw and hustled after him. He’d have to do more than stomp away to shake Madeline Monroe.

Once past the empty outer office area of his executive secretary, Madeline skirted the support staff’s cubicles, which filled the wide-open center of McCoy Enterprises’ top floor. She barreled past the break room, which smelled suspiciously of warm Krispy Kreme donuts as well as fresh coffee. No wonder people loved working at McCoy’s.

Before she reached the elevators, she came upon a door leading to the stairs, and hesitated. Odds were good Alex had taken the stairs.

Even though they were fourteen floors up, she doubted he’d want to risk having to talk to anyone on the trip down. For a moment she considered trying to chase him. But with his head start and fuming mood propelling him to the ground floor, coupled with the speed-slowing height of her heels, she opted for the elevator.

No longer caring if anyone noticed her as she had on her way to Alex’s office, Madeline ran for the bank of elevators. She screeched to a stop in front of the polished metal doors and hit every down button several times with the palm of her hand.

Luck was with her and the elevator on her left opened immediately with a ding. She rushed inside and pushed the close button with one hand and the lobby button with the other.

“Come on, come on,” she muttered while bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet as she was carried downward.

When the elevator stopped at one of the middle floors, she groaned, “Nooo.”

The doors swooshed smoothly open and a short, sandy-haired man in shirtsleeves and a brown tie, a file folder in his hand, stepped in. Madeline tried for an innocuous expression and dropped her gaze to the toes of her white mules.




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