The Rich Boy. Leah Vale

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 СКАЧАТЬ