The MacGregor Brides, Page 4

  "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."

  Chapter 5

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  "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 Fren
ch 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.

  "Dad." Laura cleared her throat, wiggled free of Royce and cursed the flush that burned her cheeks. "I was—We were—"

  "Were what, Laura?" Dismissing her, Caine measured the man. "And you would be…?"

  "Royce Cameron." A well-toned wolf, was Royce's impression. He didn't think the gray at the temples of the bronze hair would affect the man's fangs whatsoever. "And I was kissing your daughter."

  "I've eyes in my head, Cameron," Caine said, in a tone that would have made his own father swell with pride. "Security, right? Shouldn't you be making someone's business safe, instead of kissing my daughter in the middle of the morning?" Royce tucked his thumbs in his front pockets. He hadn't gotten around to shaving yet, certainly hadn't intended to see Laura that morning. But he'd stepped out to do a few errands and found himself standing outside her office, he still wasn't quite sure how. He was wearing a leather jacket that had plenty of battle scars, and jeans that were worn white at the stress points and frayed at the cuffs. He had a pretty fair idea what he looked like to a doting father at the moment. A rich, doting father who wore Savile Row as if he'd been born in it.

  "I've just come back from Hyannis Port. I spent the last two days there designing and discussing an upgrade of a security system for your father's home."

  Caine's eyes narrowed and flashed. "Is that so? Interfering old tyrant," he muttered, striking straight to the core of the matter. "In that case, I imagine you've got your work cut out for you. We wouldn't want to keep you from it."

  "Dad." Appalled, Laura gaped at him. "There's no reason to be rude."

  "Yes, there is," Royce said mildly. "You look just like your mother. He'd know there's every reason to be rude."

  "Well said," Caine murmured.

  "I'll be back." Royce strolled toward the door, pausing when he was toe-to-toe with Caine. "And I'm going to kiss your daughter again, Mr. MacGregor. You'll have to get used to it."

  "If the two of you think you can stand there and discuss me as if I'm some sort of trophy—"

  "We're done." Royce cut her off, flicking a glance over his shoulder before he walked out the door. "For the moment."

  "Arrogant son of a bitch." Caine dug his hands into his own pockets and felt a smile twitch at his mouth. "I like him."

  "Oh, do you?" Running on full steam, Laura stalked from around the desk and, when she was close enough, poked her father in the chest with her finger. "You humiliated me."

  "I did not."

  "You did, too. Standing there like a… a…"

  "Father," he finished, and took her chin firmly in his hand. "Do you think I don't know what he's got in mind? His hands were—"

  "I know exactly where his hands were," Laura fired back. "They were exactly where I wanted them. I'm not a child, and I'm not going to have the men in my family draw the wagons in a circle around me to protect my virtue. It's my virtue, and I'll do with it what I choose, with whom I choose."

  "Not if I beat you and lock you up, you won't."

  She snorted. "You never laid a hand on me in your life."

  "An obvious oversight which can still be corrected, young lady."

  "Stop it." Diana rushed in, closing the door firmly behind her. "Stop this shouting. They can hear you all over the building."

  "Let them hear!" Laura and Caine shouted together.

  "Lower your voices, or I'm fining you both for contempt of court. Sit down, the pair of you."

  "He's the one who's out of order." Laura tossed her head, but she dropped into a chair. "He embarrassed me in front of Royce, and he was rude. He came in here like some—"

  "Father," Caine interjected, but sat, as well.

  "Neanderthal father." Laura sniffed,
and turned her appeal to her mother. "Mama, I'm twenty-four years old. Does he think I've never been kissed before?"

  "You'd better not have been kissed like that before," Caine muttered. "Diana, the man had his hands on her—"

  "Enough." Diana held up her hands, shut her eyes until she could be certain her own temper was under control. "Laura, if you're a hundred and four, you have no right to speak to your father in that way. And Caine," she continued, just as he began to look smug,

  "Laura is an adult, a responsible, intelligent woman, and she can kiss whomever she pleases."

  "Now, just a damn minute—" Caine began.

  "Don't you shout at me," Diana warned him. "If he was rude to Royce, he'll apologize."

  "In a pig's—"

  "I'll see to it," Diana said between her teeth, searing her husband with a look. "But at the moment, it's more important that the two of you behave yourselves. This is a place of business."

  "Tell that to her." Caine wagged a finger at Laura. "She's the one who was conducting personal business, practically on her own desk."

  "We were not on the desk," Laura fumed. Though they could have been, she thought, might have been, in another minute. "Royce just dropped by to see if I'd be free for lunch."

  "Ha!" was her father's opinion.

  Laura slapped a hand on the arm of her chair. "You sound just like Grandpa."

  "Oh, that's fine." Insulted, Caine sprang to his feet. "I get yelled at when I have a perfectly reasonable reaction to seeing my daughter being swallowed whole by a strange man, but you have no objection to having your grandfather pick out what he obviously considers a suitable stud for the next line of MacGregors."

  "Caine." Diana moaned the word, sinking to the arm of a chair herself.

  "What? What do you mean? What are you talking about?"

  "It's plain as the burr in the old man's voice," Caine told her. "You're the eldest granddaughter, you're of marriageable age. It's time you were doing your duty," he continued, mimicking Daniel's voice, "finding a suitable husband and getting children of your own." Laura's mouth worked for several seconds before she could manage to speak. Then all that came out was a low, whistling scream.

  "See?" Pleased he'd made his point, Caine hitched up the knees of his trousers and sat back.

  "He's picked him out." Temper had Laura's breath strangling in her throat. "He sent him to me. He—he selected him so I could… so I could breed."

  "Well…" Satisfied he was off the hook, Caine examined his cuffs. "That's a bit cruder than he'd have intended."

  "I'll kill him. With my bare hands."

  Caine sat up, enjoying himself now. "Which one of them?"

  "Grandpa. You'd best make funeral arrangements." She snatched up her coat and briefcase. "I'm taking the rest of the day off. I have to drive to Hyannis."

  "Laura—"