The MacGregor Brides (4 page)

“That would please Grandpa.”

“Definitely.” Gwen ran her tongue around her teeth. “Is he married?”

“I wouldn’t think so.” Laura went back to the unnecessary mascara. “He wasn’t wearing a ring when he put the moves on me.”

“And he’s what? About thirty?”

“Somewhere around, I’d guess.” Her gaze shifted again. “Hunting, are we?”

“No, collecting data. He’s single, attractive, runs his own business, thirtyish and a Cameron. My assessment is that Grandpa picked him out for you.”

“We already know that.” Laura set the mascara down and picked up her lipstick. “Grandpa hired him to install a security system, which he’ll be doing today.”

Gwen sighed, then rapped the top of Laura’s head lightly with her knuckles. “Hello? You’re not usually so slow. I’m talking matrimony.”

“Matri—” On a choked laugh, Laura set down the tube of lipstick. “Not a chance.”

“Why not? Grandpa’s been making noises for the past year about how not one of his grandchildren
has the common sense, or the sense of duty, to settle down and raise a family.”

“And Grandma’s pining for babies to bounce on her knee,” Laura finished dryly. “I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s fixed on Royce Cameron as a potential grandson. The man isn’t the type an overprotective grandfather chooses.”

Gwen perched on the long rose-colored counter. “Because?”

“There’s something dangerous about him. You can see it in the eyes—something not quite tame.”

“Mmm. Sounding better and better.”

“For a lover, sure. I imagine he’d be amazing in bed.” Laura smirked as she brushed back her hair. “I doubt that’s what the MacGregor would have in mind.”

Idly, Gwen picked up the lipstick, swiveled the creamy red tube up and down. “On the contrary, I’d say it would be exactly what he’d have in mind. The boy has spirit,” she continued, in a deep, exaggerated burr. “He’s got fire in his blood. He’ll breed strong sons and daughters.”

“Ridiculous.” But Laura experienced a sick sensation deep in her stomach. “That’s absurd. He couldn’t … He wouldn’t.”

“Could and would,” Gwen disagreed succinctly. “And so far I’d say it’s working.”

“What do you mean, what are you talking about?”

“I mean it’s Saturday morning.” Gwen angled her wrist to check her watch. “Just eight o’clock on a Saturday morning, when you don’t have to be anywhere. Not only are you up, but you’re dressed. You’re wearing mascara, which you don’t even need, and lipstick, and—” she leaned forward and sniffed “—your best perfume.”

“I’m only—”

“And she’s got a new blouse lying out on her bed,” Julia added as she stepped into the doorway and leaned against the jamb. “A red silk blouse.”

“Aha, a red silk blouse for a Saturday morning at home.” Gwen slid off the counter, patted Laura’s shoulder. “My diagnosis, honey, is a strong case of physical attraction.”

“I am not attracted to him. I’m just … I’m thinking of going shopping, that’s all. Christmas shopping. So I’m up and dressed.”

“You never shop on Saturday,” Julia pointed out ruthlessly. “You hate to shop, period, which I find very sad. And you never start your Christmas shopping until the middle of December.”

“I’m making an exception.” Annoyed, Laura maneuvered by them both and stomped toward her room.

The blouse lay on the bed like a bright red alarm. She hissed at it. Then, slamming her door, she decided to wear it anyway. She liked strong colors, she thought as she yanked it off the bed. She liked silk. Why shouldn’t she wear the damn thing?

She muttered to herself as she buttoned it up. She was not attracted to Royce Cameron in the least. He was far from her type. The man was arrogant, rude and self-congratulatory. And, she reminded herself, he’d seen her at her most ridiculous.

And in the fourth place, she thought as she slipped on dark gray trousers, she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Not that a man like Royce would be interested in something as civilized as a relationship, but for herself, she wanted a few more years of absolute freedom.

A man in general, and a mate in particular, could wait.

She heard the front door buzzer, sniffed. She took her time putting on her shoes. Then, to prove to herself that she didn’t care how she looked to Royce or any other man that morning, deliberately turned away from the mirror before heading downstairs.

He was in the foyer. A scarred leather jacket, faded jeans, dark, tousled hair. He was talking to Julia
and Gwen, and he laughed at something Julia said. Laura made it halfway down the stairs before he turned his head, before those oddly intense blue eyes, with their dark fringe of lashes, met hers. Before that slow, dangerous smile curved his mouth.

Before her heart gave one jerky kick that warned her she might be in trouble after all.

“Morning, Slim,” he said, giving her a very slow once-over. “Nice shirt.”

Royce didn’t pursue women. He particularly didn’t pursue a woman who indicated a lack of interest—or one who was sending out mixed signals. When he met a woman who attracted him, he let her know it. Straight out, no games, no pretenses. He figured it was up to the woman in question to pick up the ball from there.

Since Laura MacGregor wasn’t picking up the ball, hadn’t even acknowledged that he’d tossed one in her direction, he should have shrugged it off, forgotten her and gone about his business.

But he wasn’t having any luck in doing that.

It had been nearly three weeks since he first saw her, four days since he last saw her. And she was still on his mind. Not just the picture of her in that sexy little outfit she’d worn in the kitchen—though that image certainly popped into his mind with annoying regularity. It was her face that hounded him, he thought, the cold courage in it when she’d whipped up that knife and faced him down. It was the intelligence and determination in her eyes when she’d spoken of law and justice. It was the cocky smile curving that incredibly tempting mouth as she’d walked down the stairs the day he began the installation of her security system.

It was, he was forced to admit, the whole damn package.

In his small, crowded office off Boylston, he rubbed his tired eyes, ran his hands through hair badly in need of a trim. She was keeping him up at night, and it was ticking him off. What he needed to do was pull out his address book and find a companionable woman to spend an evening with. Someone uncomplicated and undemanding.

Why in the hell didn’t he want someone uncomplicated and undemanding?

He’d be damned if he was going to pick up the phone and call Laura. He’d asked her out, she’d refused. He’d told her he’d be available if she changed her mind. She hadn’t changed it. He hadn’t made a fool of himself over a female since he was twelve and fell madly in love with his best friend’s older sister, the sixteen-year-old goddess Marsha Bartlett. He’d mooned over her for two months, followed her around like a slavish puppy and suffered the taunts of the entire seventh grade of Saint Anne’s Elementary.

Marsha Bartlett had never paid any attention to him, and had gone on to marry an oral surgeon. And Royce didn’t moon after females anymore.

“Grow up, Cameron,” he ordered himself, and turned back to his computer screen to fiddle with the proposed security system on an office building in South Boston.

When the phone shrilled, he ignored it until the fourth ring. Swearing, he snatched it up. Obviously his secretary was off powdering her nose again.

“Cameron Security.”

“And this would be Cameron himself?”

Royce recognized the voice. There was no mistaking that full-blooded Scot. “It would be, Mr.
MacGregor.”

“Good, just the man I’m after. You’ve seen to my granddaughters.”

“The system’s up and operative.” And the bill, he thought—the hefty bill—was in the mail. “It’s the best money can buy.”

“I’m counting on that, boy. I want my wife’s mind at rest. She frets.”

“So you said.”

“And you tested the system personally?”

“As you requested. Any attempt to break in or undermine the system sends an alarm straight to the nearest cop shop and my own personal beeper.”

“Good, good. But those girls have to use it to be protected. They’re young, you know, and busy with their interests. My wife’s worried that they may be careless and forget to turn it on altogether.”

“Mr. MacGregor, I can only guarantee the system if it’s in use.”

“Exactly, exactly. Why, I was telling Anna just this morning that you’ve done everything you could do. But she’s got this in her mind now, and is worrying on it. I was thinking, just to soothe her, we could do a test. If you’d go by sometime—tonight’s as good a time as any—and just see if you can get inside …”

“Hold it. Let me get this straight. You want me to break into your granddaughters’ house?”

“Well, you see, if you manage to do it, then we’ll know we need to adjust the matter a bit. And if you can’t … well, then, I can ease my wife’s mind. She’s old,” Daniel added in a low voice, keeping an eagle eye on the doorway. “I worry about her health. We’re more than happy to pay you for your time and trouble.”

“Do you know what the cage time is for nighttime breaking and entering, Mr. MacGregor?”

Daniel laughed heartily. Indeed, he’d picked a rare one for his Laura. “Now, Royce, as a former officer of the law, I’m sure you’d know that well enough. And you’d know how to be sure you weren’t caught at it. I meant to tell you that I’m considering having a new security system installed here, at my home. It’s a large house, and I’d want only the best. Cost would be no object.”

Royce leaned back in his chair and stared, meditatively, at the ceiling. “Are you bribing me, Mr. MacGregor?”

“Indeed I am, Mr. Cameron. Are you an enterprising young man?”

“Indeed I am. And this is going to cost you.”

“What’s money compared to the peace of mind and safety of those we love?”

Royce tipped back in his chair, waited a beat. “I’ve met a lot of demons and clever people in my life, Mr. MacGregor. You could give lessons.”

Daniel’s roar of laughter had Royce’s ears ringing. “I like you, lad, damned if I don’t. Camerons, strong stock. You get back to me when you’ve checked this matter out. And we’ll arrange for a time for you to come up here and modernize my security.”

* * *

It was going to earn him big bucks. Royce calculated the zeros as he slipped out of the moonlight and into the shadows of the grand old trees that guarded the house.

He stood studying the dark windows. It was easy enough for Royce to think like a thief. He’d handled countless burglaries during his years on the force. It was for that very reason that he’d decided
to go into private security. Most people had no idea how vulnerable they were while they dreamed in their beds.

He approached the house as a thief would, using the trees and hedges for cover. The well-established grounds added to the ambience, and also blocked any nefarious enterprises from the view of neighbors and street traffic.

If he was a smart B-and-E man—and Royce had decided he would be—he’d have already taken the time to study the house, the accesses, the security. He’d have worn khaki work clothes, carried a clipboard and come in broad daylight. No one would have looked at him twice. But instead, here he was in the middle of the night, responding to the “request” of an overly canny, overly protective Scot.

He’d have known the alarm system was hot. Of course, if he had a solid knowledge of electronics—and Royce had decided to get into the spirit of the job and assume that he, as thief, had a degree in electronics. Amused at himself, he set to the task of undoing his own work.

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped back, scratched his chin. He was damn good, he decided. Not quite as good a thief as he was a security expert. The system was very close to foolproof, if he did say so himself. If he hadn’t designed it personally, he would never be able to work his way through the backups and safety checks to override it.

Since he had designed it, he could have gotten in—if he’d wanted to get in—by working another ten minutes or so. But a thief would have to be very determined, very educated and very lucky to have gotten even this far. The MacGregor, he decided, could sleep easy.

Satisfied, he started to step back, when a light flashed on. Laura MacGregor stood in full view on the other side of the atrium door, dark hair down to her waist, a bright yellow T-shirt skimming her thighs and a Louisville Slugger gripped in her hands.

He watched her mouth fall open when she recognized him and her eyes catch fire.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Her voice was muffled by the glass, but he caught the drift. “Spot check,” he said loudly back. “Customer’s request.”

“I didn’t request any spot check.”

“Your grandfather did.”

He watched those furious eyes narrow, saw her hands shift their grip on the handle of the bat, as if she were going to swing away regardless. Then she spun around, giving him a blood-pumping view of leg, and snatched up the phone.

Royce scratched his chin again, his fingers brushing absently over the ridge of scar. If she was calling the cops, he was going to be in for a long night of explanations. He had enough friends on the force to cushion the worst of it—but he knew those same friends would toss him in a holding cell just for the amusement factor.

The fee for the spot check doubled.

Moments later, Laura slammed down the receiver. She strode to the control unit for the alarm system, punched in the code, then flipped the locks on the door.

“You’re both idiots, you and my grandfather.”

“You called the MacGregor.”

“Of course I called him. Do you think I’m going to take your word when you’re standing outside the door wearing breaking-and-entering black and carrying burglar’s tools? I ought to bash you with this on principle,” she added, before tipping the bat against the wall.

“Your restraint is appreciated.” His grin flashed, humor sparking his eyes like summer lightning. “Look at it this way, your grandmother can now sleep peacefully at night.”

“My grandmother always sleeps peacefully. It’s him.” Exasperated, she threw up her hands. The movement had the T-shirt sliding dangerously high. “The man stays up at night dreaming up ways to complicate all our lives. It’s his one driving goal—to drive his family insane. At least I have the satisfaction of knowing his ears will be ringing for the rest of the night.”