The MacGregor Brides (6 page)

“You just look more like the type to go five rounds with the champ than to—” The words slid down her throat as he spun her out, then whirled her back until her body meshed intimately with his. “Oh, God.”

“We’ll box later.”

The heels brought her face-level with him so that eyes and mouths lined up. He guided her over the floor with smooth, intricate steps. She didn’t have to think to follow. Couldn’t have thought, with the way her heart thudded, the way the sax wailed, the way his eyes stayed focused on hers.

“You’re very good,” she managed.

“Dancing is the second-best thing a man can do with a beautiful woman. Why not do it right?”

She had to moisten her lips. “You’ve had lessons.”

“At my mother’s insistence. Which is why I can also go five rounds with the champ. In my neighborhood, if a guy took dance lessons, he either got the stuffing beat out of him on a regular basis or he learned to use his fists.”

“That’s quite a combination. What neighborhood was that?”

“South Boston.”

“Oh.” Her head was swimming, her pulse pounding. “That’s where you grew up then. Did your father—”

He dipped her, low and slow. “You talk too much,” he murmured, and closed his mouth over hers as he brought her back up. And kept it there as he moved with her, as the music pumped over them, as her hand slid over his shoulder to cup the back of his neck.

She felt her stomach drop away, her knees turn to water, and murmured his name, twice, against his mouth.

“Do you know who I am?” He waited until her eyes fluttered open and met his. “Do you know who I am now, Laura?”

She knew what he was asking, and understood that every moment they spent together had been a dance with steps leading to this. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

“Come home with me.” He kissed her again, tracing her lips with his tongue until they trembled. “Come to bed with me.”

She didn’t care that the music had stopped, that the club was crowded. She poured herself into the kiss. “My house is closer.”

“How do you know?”

“I looked up your address.” She was smiling as she eased back. “Just in case. My cousins are out for the evening.” She slid her hand down to his, linked fingers. “Come home with me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

He kissed her again when they stepped out into the chilly autumn evening. The instant they were in the car, they were diving for each other. “I didn’t think I’d be in such a hurry.” Gulping in air, she attacked his mouth again. “I’m in a hurry. Drive fast.”

“Tell me what you’ve got on under that dress.”

She laughed. “Perfume.”

“I’ll drive fast.” He slammed the car in gear. “Strap in, and keep your hands to yourself. I want to live to make love with you.”

She fumbled with her seat belt as he shot out into the street. She gripped her hands together in her lap. She wanted to use them on him, she realized. She wanted to use them to tear off his shirt, to touch, to take, to drive him crazy. She had no precedent for this wild animal lust snarling inside her.

“Tell me something else,” she demanded. “Your family. Brothers, sisters.”

“No, none.” He accelerated, coolly threading through traffic and zipping through a yellow light.

“Your parents, do they still live in the old neighborhood?”

“My mother moved to Florida with her second husband. My father’s dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Line of duty. That’s the way he wanted it. Wouldn’t you think these people would have something better to do than to be driving around tonight?”

She laughed, then pressed a hand to her racing heart. “God, I’m nervous. I never get nervous. I’m going to babble. I can feel it. You’d better talk to me or I’m going to babble.”

“I could tell you what I’m going to do to you the minute I get you out of that dress.”

“Royce. Drive faster.”

He careened around the corner, headed up her street. And his beeper went off. Swearing viciously, Royce dug into his jacket pocket. “Read the code off for me, will you?”

“All right. It’s … it’s mine. Royce, it’s my house.”

His eyes hardened. He could already hear the alarm shrilling. He whipped the car to the curb two houses down from Laura’s. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Lock the doors.”

“But you can’t— The police will—”

“It’s my system.” He slammed out of the car and, avoiding the light from the streetlamps, slipped into the dark.

It only took Laura ten seconds to decide to go after him. She cursed the ridiculously thin heels as she darted up the sidewalk. Even as she burst into the wash of light pouring out of her windows, she saw two figures grappling.

Without a second thought, she ran forward, her eyes darting right and left in search of a handy weapon. Terrified, inspired, she yanked off her shoe and dashed forward, leading with the ice-pick heel.

Then she saw the glint of bright gold hair in the light. Heard the curse and the grunt as Royce’s fist plowed into a familiar face.

“Ian! Oh, my God! Ian, are you all right?” Dropping her shoe, she stumbled to where Royce’s adversary was sprawled on the ground.

“God, what hit me, a rock?” Ian shook his head, tried to work his throbbing jaw. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Oh, honey, your lip’s bleeding. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She bent forward and kissed him gently.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Royce said from behind her. The whip of jealousy stung nearly as much as his abused knuckles. He frowned down as the couple on the ground glared at him. “I take it you two are acquainted.”

“Of course we’re acquainted.” Laura stroked Ian’s hair. “You just punched my brother.”

“Hell of a punch, too.” Ian lifted a hand, wiggled his jaw and decided it probably wasn’t broken. “I didn’t even see it coming. Of course, if I’d seen it, you wouldn’t have landed it.”

“Come on, let me help you inside. We’ll put some ice on it.”

“Stop fussing, Laura.” Now that his ears had stopped ringing, Ian took a good look at the man who’d decked him. It soothed his ego a bit to see the tough, compact build and wide shoulders. At least he hadn’t been taken down by a suit and tie, which would have been his sister’s usual type. “Ian MacGregor,” he said, and held up a hand.

“Royce Cameron.” Royce gripped it, hauled Ian to his feet. “You caught another one,” he said, and tapped a finger to the side of his eye.

“I thought so. I was a little off my stride. I mean, a guy goes to let himself into his sister’s house, and all of a sudden alarms start screaming, lights flashing …”

“New security system,” Royce told him. “I installed it a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah, well, it works.” Ian’s crooked grin offered a truce. “Want a beer?”

Royce judged his man and smiled. “Sure. Let me disengage this and call off the cops.”

“I guess you changed the locks,” Ian began conversationally as he trooped along with Royce.

Laura stood where she was, off balance on one skyscraper heel, her mouth hanging open. “If that isn’t just typical,” she muttered, and hunted up her other shoe. “Men bash each other in the face, then they’re friends for life.”

“
I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me what you’re doing breaking into my house at ten o’clock on a Saturday night?”

Ian held the cold bottle of beer against his bruised jaw and smiled at his sister. “I wouldn’t have been breaking in if you’d told me you’d changed the locks.”

“If you’d let someone know your plans—”

“I didn’t have any plans. I just decided to swing by for the weekend.” He grinned over at Royce. “Harvard Law, first year. A guy needs a little break.”

“I imagine so.” And as his own plans for the evening had taken an abrupt turn, Royce decided he had no choice but to take it philosophically. But he wished to God Laura would change out of that siren’s dress and into something dull and baggy.

“Where are the cousins?”

“They’re out.”

“Got anything to eat around here?” He grinned at Laura, and the gleam in his eye told her he knew exactly what he’d interrupted. And that he wasn’t the least bit sorry. “I’m starving.”

“You want food, fix it yourself.”

“She dotes on me,” Ian told Royce as he rose to raid the refrigerator. “Want a sandwich?”

Royce exchanged one long look with Laura. “Why not?”

“You know, Laurie, I was going to go up and sponge off Grandpa, but I just had this urge to see you.” He beamed at her as he began unloading cold cuts and condiments.

“Oh, let me do it, you’re making a mess.” She nudged him aside, then sighed when he slid an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Go sit down and drink your beer.”

He sat, lifted his long legs to prop his feet on the opposite chair. At twenty-two, with golden hair, a sharp-boned face offset by a poet’s mouth, and eyes that were nearly violet, he was already doing his best to meet, and exceed, the reputation his father had left behind at Harvard Law. In his studies, and with the ladies.

“So, Royce, tell me, how are things in the security business?”

It wasn’t a question, Royce understood. It was a statement. Ian MacGregor wasn’t budging an inch, and had no intention of letting Royce get his hands on Laura until he was satisfied.

Fair enough, Royce decided.

Seeing they understood each other, Royce lifted his beer. “It’s a living,” he said.

* * *

For the next week, Laura buried sexual frustration in work. Ian had all but moved in, spending each evening, each night, in the Back Bay with her, then driving back to Cambridge in the morning to class.

He was, Laura thought, an unshakable, unmovable guard dog.

“He needs a damn leash,” she muttered.

“Who does, honey?”

Laura looked up from her files. Her mother stood in the doorway, head cocked, brow lifted. Diana Blade MacGregor’s hair was as dark as her daughter’s, and was scooped up in a polished French twist as a concession to the court appearance she’d made that morning. Her eyes were dark and warm, her skin a dusky gold, thanks to her mix of Comanche blood. Her bronze-toned suit was tailored to set off her slim figure.

Perfect
was the word that often came to Laura’s mind when she thought of her mother. Absolutely perfect. But she wasn’t in the mood for family loyalties at the moment.

“Your son. He’s driving me insane.”

“Ian?” Diana stepped into the room and fought to keep the twinkle out of her eyes. Ian had told her Laura was more than interested in a man. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s hovering. He’s smothering me. He’s got some weird notion he’s protecting me. I don’t want to be protected.”

“I see.” Diana perched on Laura’s desk, smoothed a hand over her daughter’s hair. “Would this have anything to do with Royce Cameron?”

“It has to do with me not needing my little brother running interference with my social life.” Then Laura blew out a breath. “And yes, it has something to do with Royce.”

“I’d like to meet him. Your grandfather certainly thinks highly of him.”

“Grandpa?” Confused, Laura flipped back her hair and frowned up at her mother. “He barely knows him. He hired Royce’s company, that’s all.”

“You should know the MacGregor better than that.” With a laugh, Diana shook her head. “Sweetheart, Daniel MacGregor wouldn’t have put anyone in your path—particularly an attractive man—unless he knew all there was to know, and then some. According to him, Royce Cameron comes from strong stock.”

“That’s just his Scottish bias.”

“And you’re his eldest granddaughter.” Diana’s smile softened. “A delicate position your father and I put you in.”

“I don’t see what— Oh.” She stood when she caught the movement in the doorway. “Royce.”

“Sorry, your receptionist said you weren’t busy, and to come up.”

“That’s all right, I …” She detested being flustered. Was uneasy acknowledging that he could fluster her simply by existing. “Mama, this is Royce Cameron.”

“I’m so pleased to meet you.” Diana rose from the desk to hold out a hand. She found herself being assessed by cool blue eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Royce smiled at her. “I was just seeing what Laura’s going to look like when she flowers. She’s very fortunate in her heritage.”

Smoothly done, Diana mused. “Thank you. My husband says that the Comanche wear their bones well. I’m sure you want to speak with Laura. I hope to see you again, Mr. Cameron. Laura, I’ll have a word with Ian on that matter we were discussing.”

“Thanks.”

“Your mother is … impressive,” Royce murmured when Diana slipped out and shut the door. Then he turned to Laura. “Comanche?”

“Yes, my mother’s part Comanche.” She rose slowly, almost in challenge. “So am I.”

“I’d have to agree with your father. You wear your bones well.” He stepped closer, moving around the desk until they were face-to-face. “Is your brother hiding in the storage closet?”

She had to chuckle. “Not at the moment.”

“Well, then.” Watching her, he slipped his arms around her waist and drew her slowly close, closer, saw her lashes flutter as he lowered his mouth to touch hers. “I’ve got to see you, Laura. Alone.”

“I know. I want … It’s just that everything’s so complicated now, and … Kiss me again. Just kiss me again.”

Not patient this time. Not gentle. She could taste the impatience, the frustrated desire that echoed inside her and the promise of heat and speed.

“I should have hit him harder.” His hands slipped to her hips to bring her more intimately against him. “I’m going to go find him and hit him again.”

“No.” Laura tangled her fingers in his hair. “Let me do it.”

“Tell your secretary you’re going to lunch.”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“A really early lunch.” Royce nipped her jaw, then went back to her mouth. “And it’s going to last most of the day.”

“I really can’t.” His lips trailed down her throat and made her skin sing. “I shouldn’t.” Then came back to hers and set her heart leaping. “Okay, just let me—”

“Laura, do you have the file on—” Caine MacGregor froze, the doorknob still in his hand. And stared narrowly at the man who was currently devouring his little girl. “Excuse me,” he said, just coldly enough so that no one would suspect he meant it.