The MacGregor Grooms (24 page)

But she loved it so much. And she needed it. It had been her refuge, her joy, her heart as long as she could remember. In the end, her family had understood that, and had trusted her.

She wasn’t going to let them down. And she wasn’t, she thought now, going to let herself down, either.

Brooding and moaning over one small stumble with Ian wasn’t going to change anything. Likely he’d already forgotten it, and her. In order for her to forget it and continue on her quest to become who she wanted to be, she had to face it. Face him.

She picked up the book on her desk and headed for the door, barely stopping herself from chewing on her lipstick. She wouldn’t call, she decided. She’d deliver the book personally.

*   *   *

When Naomi walked into the lovely old two-story brownstone that held the law offices of MacGregor
and MacGregor, she told herself she was perfectly under control. She’d taken the time to freshen her lipstick in the car—because she had indeed chewed it off—and she’d taken those ten calming breaths she found settled her nerves.

Her problem, she admitted, was her own reaction to him. A reaction that had slammed into her the minute she’d seen him standing on the second level at Brightstone’s, smiling at the teenagers in the study area.

It had been a similar reaction to ones she’d often experienced in the past, whenever she saw something particularly beautiful, desirable—and completely out of her reach. A kind of low and liquid yearning.

But she’d gotten herself under control now by reminding herself—often—that all Ian MacGregor was interested in was business.

She gave herself a booster shot of that advice as she crossed the beautifully appointed reception area decorated in pale greens and creamy whites, with a low fire crackling in a hearth that was framed by a mantelpiece of rose-veined marble.

Class, she thought. Tradition. They were qualities in business, and family, she appreciated and understood very well.

She smiled at the woman manning the gorgeous satinwood desk.

“Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“I’m Naomi Brightstone. I have—” She broke off as a gorgeous whirlwind burst through the door.

“I won! Justice once more triumphs and the world is safe for our children.” The woman, a staggeringly lovely brunette in a plum-colored suit, flashed Naomi a dazzling smile. “Sorry. We’re usually more dignified around here. I’m Laura Cameron.”

“I’m Naomi Brightstone, and congratulations.”

“Thanks. Are you waiting … Brightstone? The bookstore?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Oh, I love that place, always have.” Laura tucked up a strand of hair that had escaped her sleek coil on her dash inside. “And the new café is fabulous.”

The quivers in Naomi’s stomach smoothed out. “Thank you. We’re very proud of it.”

“We’re handling something for you, aren’t we? Or rather, Ian’s handling something for you?”

“Yes. I just dropped by to—”

“I’m his sister.”

“Yes, I know. Your grandfather wanted a book.” She lifted the small shopping bag. “I had some errands out this way and thought I’d bring it by.”

“Oh. Do you want me to take it, or did you want to see Ian?”

“Well, I …” She felt herself begin to fumble, then was both embarrassed and relieved when the cell phone in her purse rang. “Isn’t that the silliest thing?” she said with a laugh. “It always gives me a jolt. Excuse me a moment.”

She reached in her purse, drew out the trim little phone and engaged. “Hello.”

“Naomi? Ian MacGregor.”

“Oh.” She felt the blood rush to her cheeks. “How odd.”

“What?”

“I mean, I’m just … I have the book you wanted. I was just—”

“Great, we’ll kill two birds. Your papers are in. I wanted you to know I’ll be filing them this afternoon. I can swing by and pick up the book after I’m done at the courthouse.”

“Actually, that’s not necessary. You see—”

“It’s no trouble. On my way home, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. But I’m downstairs.”

“Where? Here?” He let out a quick, delighted laugh. “Stay,” he ordered, and clicked off, leaving Naomi staring bemusedly at her phone.

“That was your brother.”

“Yes.” Laura grinned. “So I gathered. The wonders of technology,” she murmured, and wondered just what that sudden rush of color into Naomi’s cheek signified.

Ian came down the steps at a jog. Oh yeah, he thought, she looked every bit as good as he remembered. He held out a hand, noted she was still holding the phone, and flashed that grin. “You can hang up now.”

“Oh, yes. I suppose I can.” Brilliant, Naomi. Why don’t you just let your tongue fall out and swoon at his feet while you’re at it? “I was just running some errands, so I thought I’d bring Mr. MacGregor’s book by.”

“Great. Come on up.”

“I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

“You’re not, especially.” He glanced at his sister, lifted his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Slam dunk.”

“Way to go, champ.” He gave Laura a light punch on the arm that Naomi recognized as brotherly affection. “You can give me the play-by-play later.” He took Naomi’s arm and began to steer her toward the stairs.

“You must be busy,” she began. The scenario she’d worked out in her head hadn’t included a trip into his office.

“I’ve got a few minutes. It didn’t take you long to come up with the book.”

“We have a number of excellent sources. The price was within the range I quoted you—the upper range, I’m afraid.”

“He wants it,” Ian said simply, and guiding her down a hallway wainscoted in silky mahogany, gave the arm he held a little squeeze.

She still smelled fabulous, he mused, but he was going to be careful not to mention it and put her off again.

“Have a seat,” he told her.

His office suited the mood of the old town house. If she wasn’t mistaken, the desk under the stacks of files and spiffy computer was Chippendale and the carpet over the lovely hardwood floor a Bristol.

Oak file cabinets lined one wall, shelves of books another. The window with its carved trim looked out on the street where lovely trees were just beginning to burn with fall color.

Seeing no polite escape, she sat in one of the burgundy leather chairs. “It’s a beautiful building.”

“My father bought it before my parents were married. He was still working on some of the rehab when my mother took an office here. He wanted—then they wanted—the law housed somewhere with character and warmth.”

“They certainly succeeded.”

“How about coffee? Not that what I can serve you will come close to what you gave me.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I really should—”

“I’ll be filing the papers,” he began. No way, he thought, was he letting her rush off before he’d had a chance to make up for his blunder.

He sat, not behind the desk as she’d expected, but in the chair beside her.

“I have copies for you,” he continued, “but the originals will be in the courthouse. It’s not
absolutely official until I’ve filed them, but essentially you’re now a full partner, vice president of Brightstone Books, with full executive power and authority. Congratulations.”

She opened her mouth to thank him politely, then couldn’t form a single word as emotion filled her throat. All she could do was shut her eyes.

“Okay?” he said gently.

She nodded her head, pressed her fingers to her lips until the first edge of the joys and fears had receded. “Yes. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He took her hand before he thought about it. She looked so thrilled and terrified. “It’s a big moment.”

“The biggest. I thought I was prepared. I am,” she corrected. “I am prepared to do the job. But it’s just hearing it, knowing it’s real, is a little overwhelming. Thank you so much.” She managed a laugh. “I’m glad I was sitting down.”

“I know how it feels. Like the day I walked into this office, sat down at that desk and knew I was a part of what was most important to me. I sat there—must have been an hour—just grinning. Euphoria and terror?”

“Exactly.” Her hand relaxed in his. “It’s awesome, isn’t it, to be the next step in a long flight of family tradition?”

“It certainly is. What are you going to do to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” Her mind went blank. “I suppose I’ll get back to work.”

“Not nearly good enough. How about dinner?”

“Dinner? Yes, I’ll fix something when I get home.”

He stared at her a moment, then shook his head. Okay, he decided, no subtleties. “Naomi, I’d like to take you out to dinner tonight, if you don’t have any plans.”

“Oh. Well … plans. No, not really. Um …” Oh, please, please, her mind screamed, don’t babble! “You don’t have to feel obliged to—”

“Let me put this another way,” he said, fascinated by the way warm color rose to her cheeks. “Will you go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Ah … yes, thank you. That would be nice.”

“Good. Seven work for you?”

“Seven, yes, that’s fine.”

“Should I pick you up at the store, or your apartment?”

“The—my apartment. I’ll give you the address.”

“I have it—from your file.”

“Oh yes, of course.” Idiot. “It’s not far from the store. I can walk to work every day. I like the neighborhood.”

Shut up, shut up, and get out before you make a total fool of yourself.

“I should get back.” She got to her feet, jerking to a stop when she realized her hand was still caught in his. “To work. At the store.”

Her eyes were huge, lovely and, for reasons that baffled him, full of nerves. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, fine. Just fine. Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you down.”

“No, no, don’t bother.” Desperate now, she tugged her hand free. “I know the way.”

“Naomi,” he said before she could get out the door.

“Hmm?”

“The book?”

“Book? Oh.” Cursing herself, she turned back and handed him the bag she still carried. “Silly of me. I forgot all about it. Well, goodbye.”

“See you tonight.”

“Yes, tonight,” she managed and escaped.

Ian slipped his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Funny, he mused, she hadn’t struck him as a scatterbrain. He supposed the finality of the partnership agreement had muddled her mind.

Or, he considered, he made her nervous. Now wouldn’t that be a nice little side benefit? He wouldn’t mind making the pretty and efficient Naomi Brightstone nervous. Not a bit.

Strolling over to the desk, he buzzed his secretary and asked her to make reservations for dinner for two at Rinaldo’s at seven-thirty. Then, tucking the paperwork into his briefcase, he headed out to the courthouse, whistling on the way.

He couldn’t remember ever looking forward to an evening more.

Ian was just knotting his tie when the phone rang. He ignored it, not wanting to take time for conversation. He still had to go by the florist’s on the way to Naomi’s apartment.

But when he heard “Why the devil aren’t you home?” delivered in a booming voice rich with a Scottish burr, he grinned and snatched up his portable.

“Well, I am home, but not for long.”

“Can’t any one of my grandchildren stay put?” Daniel demanded. “Gallivanters, the lot of you. Your grandmother doesn’t get a moment’s peace worrying over you.”

“Oh?” Ian stuck his tongue in his cheek. “I thought she worried I never got out, always had my nose in a law book.”

“That, too,” Daniel said, without missing a beat. “The woman frets night and day. When are you coming out to see her?”

“Grandpa, I was there last month for Duncan’s wedding, remember?”

“So? That was last month, wasn’t it? What’s wrong with this month?”

“Not a thing. I’ll come out soon.”

“See that you do. Do you think I want your granny nagging me half to death? Now what are you up to?”

“I’m up to going to dinner with a pretty woman, thanks to you.”

“Me? Me? Why, I haven’t done a bloody thing. Don’t you be telling your grandmother I have, either. All I did—”

“Relax,” Ian said with a laugh. “I wasn’t accusing you of meddling. It’s just a happy coincidence. You asked me to have Brightstone’s find your books while I was there for my meeting with Naomi.”

“And what if I did? A man’s entitled to his books, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Grandpa.” Ian raised his eyes heavenward. “Naomi dropped the Walter Scott off at my office today—right after her paperwork came through. So instead of the phone call the papers would have generated, your book got me another personal meeting. And I asked her out. So … thanks.”

“Ah, well then.” In his office in Hyannis Port, Daniel grinned like a maniac. The boy was sharp, he thought, but not quite sharp enough to match his grandpa. Hah! “That’s fine. She’s a nice young woman, little Naomi. Got manners, got brains.”

“It’s just dinner, Grandpa. Don’t get started.”

“Started on what? I’m only saying it’s fine you’re having dinner with a nice young woman. What’s wrong with that, I’d like to know?”

“Nothing, not a thing.” Ian glanced at his watch. “And I’ve got to go or I’ll be late.”

“Then what are you dawdling for? On your way, lad, and call your grandmother before she pines down to the bones.”

Daniel hung up, then rubbed his hands together. Well, he thought, that was easy.

*   *   *

Naomi agonized over what to wear, then went through another period of misery over what to do with her hair. In the end she settled on a simple black dress with a scooped neck, snug sleeves and straight skirt, and left her hair loose.

She thought—hoped—it looked sophisticated and just casual enough to indicate she hadn’t agonized. She added her grandmother’s triple strand of pearls, slid her feet into high black heels that would cause her feet great distress before the evening was over but made her feel powerful, then spritzed on the scent that Ian had complimented.

“There,” she said to her reflection. “You’re fine. You’re ready, and you will not be stupid. A very nice man is being considerate enough to take you out to dinner to celebrate an important moment in your life. That’s all there is to it. Oh God!” she said when she heard the knock on her door. “All right, okay.” And closing her eyes, she took those habitual ten steadying breaths.