The MacGregor Grooms (28 page)

Pushing out of the chair, he began to pace. He couldn’t use his feelings to pressure Naomi. He felt dead certain that if he told her he loved her, she’d let him make love with her. From there he could persuade her to move in with him, then nudge her gently into marriage.

And he’d have exactly what he wanted.

Which said nothing of what she wanted. He jammed his hands into his pockets and stared out the window. It had to be her decision.

*   *   *

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. Naomi pulled up at the address Julia had given her and studied the gorgeous old brick house. A house only blocks away from Ian’s.

She wanted to be with him. As much as it scraped at her heart, she wanted to be where he was.

He’d be arranging his books today, she thought with a sigh. Books they’d pored over together; books she’d helped him select. He’d asked her to come by and be part of the final stage of the library. He was so sweet about it, she thought with a sigh.

But she’d already agreed to come here and join what Julia called Girl Day.

Naomi had become so fond of Julia over the last few weeks, as they’d consulted on Ian’s library project, that she hadn’t been able to make excuses.

She took the glossy white bakery box and climbed out of the car. And crossing to the house through the Sunday sunshine, she smiled. Well, after all, she’d never been part of a Girl Day before.

When she’d been a teenager and the other girls were riding in herds, having slumber parties, talking about boys and clothes, she’d stood on the outside, unable to break into that lovely haze of young femininity. Telling herself she didn’t want to.

But, of course, she had.

Now, at least for a day, she’d have a taste of it.

Casual, Julia had said, and Naomi tugged at the hem of her red sweater before she knocked.

“Hey!” Julia homed in on the box even as she grabbed Naomi’s hand to pull her inside. “What’d you bring?”

“Brownies.”

“I love you. And you timed it perfectly, as we’ve just put all the midgets down for naps.”

“Oh, I was hoping to see Travis.”

“You will. He and Laura’s Daniel never stay down long.” She pulled Naomi into a beautifully finished parlor as she spoke. “You met Laura, right?”

“Yes, hello.”

“Hi, glad you could come by.” Laura sat on the floor eating from a bowl of potato chips. “What’s in the box?”

“Brownies.”

“Oh God. Gimme.”

“Don’t be greedy,” Julia returned. “And this is our cousin Gwen.”

“I’ve heard lots about you.” Gwen rose out of her chair where she’d been studiously painting her toenails. “I’m in your store all the time. Branson’s doing one of your author events next month.”

“He’s wonderful! Branson Maguire’s one of Boston’s best and brightest,” Naomi replied. “I have all of his books in my personal collection—signed by the author.”

“Did you know the psycho in
Do No Harm
was based on Gwen?” Laura commented.

“Not the psycho part,” Gwen said with a laugh. “Just the dedicated-doctor part. We’ve got hot chocolate. Chocolate mousse, chocolate drops and chocolate-covered pretzels.”

“Julia chose the menu,” Laura put in.

“Butch did.” Setting the box down, Julia opened it. “And he’s going to really go for these. Have a seat, Naomi, and pull up some calories.”

*   *   *

Within an hour her system was jangling with caffeine, her stomach groaning from overindulgence she hadn’t allowed herself in over three years, and she’d laughed more than she could ever remember.

The girl she’d once been wouldn’t have been able to indulge herself only once. She wouldn’t have been able to sprawl comfortably on the floor and talk about so many wonderful and foolish things, or to feel a part of the whole.

Before and After, she thought, and nearly laughed at herself. When was she going to remember, to really accept, that she was firmly rooted in the After?

Here, she thought, in the time it took to demolish a boxful of brownies, she had somehow made three friends.

“Mmm.” Julia licked chocolate from her fingers. “Wait till you see Ian’s library,” she said to Gwen. “It’s great.”

“Cullum did a fantastic job on the built-ins.” Laura poured more hot chocolate.

“Hey, I helped design them.” Julia jerked a thumb at Naomi. “And so did she.”

“I didn’t do that much. Ian already knew what he wanted.”

“He get the books in yet?” Julia wanted to know.

“He’s doing that today.”

“So … how are the two of you getting on?”

“Oh, fine. He’s a wonderful friend.”

“Friend?” Laura choked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t say the looks he was giving you the last time I was over were pal to pal. Looked to me like he wanted to start gnawing at your neck.”

“He doesn’t think of me that way.”

“Since when?”

Naomi shrugged and decided one more chocolate drop couldn’t hurt. “He did, but now he doesn’t.”

“Excuse me.” Julia held up a hand. “Are we all friends now?” Without waiting for an answer, she nodded. “Good. Naomi, are you out of your mind?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Ian’s gone over you, honey. He’s sunk, he’s gaga. Name your terms. Gwen, you haven’t seen it, but you know our boy, Ian, right?”

“Know him and love him,” Gwen said, and stuck out her bare feet to admire her toes.

“Well, in your medical opinion, knowing the patient well, what’s your diagnosis on a guy who spends all his free time with one woman, talks about her constantly, goes into daydreams with a dopey look on his face and cooks cozy dinners for two?”

“Hmm.” Gwen pursed her lips, wiggled her toes. “In medical terminology that would be gaga.”

Julia patted her belly to soothe the actively kicking Butch. “See?”

“He moons at the office, too,” Laura commented. “And I heard him tell his secretary last week to hold all of his calls while he worked on this brief—unless it was Ms. Brightstone.”

“Terminally gaga,” Gwen said with a sober nod. “A heartbreaking condition that has so far baffled medical science.”

“But he’s not.” Unsure whether to laugh or moan, Naomi dug into the chocolate drops again. “He treats me like a sister.”

“A very sick man,” Gwen murmured. “If you’d care to share more details, I’d be happy to try to suggest a course of treatment.”

“He kisses my cheek,” Naomi muttered, while a frown slowly formed on her brow. “Pats my head. Once in a while he looks at me, and I think, oh boy, here it comes. Then nothing. Before I told him I’d never had sex, he kissed me brainless, but now … oh!” She moved quickly, rapping Laura on the back as Ian’s sister choked. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, poor Ian!” Then Laura burst into wild laughter.

Baffled, Naomi stood, looking around the room as her three new friends howled until tears ran down their cheeks.

“Sorry, sorry.” Laura pressed both hands to her heart. “I doubt it’s funny to you—or him—but we’re his family. We have to laugh. He must be suffering the torments of the damned. Gwen?” Helpless, Laura waved a hand for her cousin to take over.

“He’s terrified of you,” Gwen told her. The thought made her smile. And she remembered how sweetly, how romantically Branson had become her first.

“That’s just silly.”

“No.” Sympathetic now, Gwen held out a hand. “He wouldn’t want to push, not a man like Ian. He’d be afraid he’d make the wrong move, frighten you, hurt you. And if he’s as attracted as I think he is, those brotherly pats and pecks aren’t easy on him. He’s waiting for you to make the next move, for you to be sure it’s what you want. And that’s exactly as it should be.”

For ten staggered seconds, Naomi stared at the three grinning faces. “I thought he just wasn’t interested that way, after he found out I didn’t have any experience.”

“He’d never pressure a woman, Naomi.” Laura gave her hand a squeeze. “And the more he cares, the more careful he’d be.”

“You really think …” Naomi trailed off and smiled dreamily into space.

“Oh-oh, Dr. Maguire, I think we have another case of gaga.” Julia grinned and winked at her
cousins. “This could cause an epidemic.”

*   *   *

It was dusk when Naomi stopped her car in front of Ian’s house. The lights were on, glowing in welcome through the windows. Was he still up in the library, she wondered, arranging his books? Was he wondering if she’d call or drop by?

Did he want her to?

Or was his family wrong? Was it exactly as she’d assumed, and he thought of her as a friend?

Maybe he wasn’t alone.

That thought sneaked into her brain and had her gripping the steering wheel. He was so attractive, so charming, so … everything. There had to be a dozen women he could summon with one crook of the finger. Beautiful, experienced, sophisticated women.

Why would he be waiting for her?

“Stop it, stop it, stop it.” Annoyed with herself, she thumped a fist on the wheel. “That’s the way you used to think. You’re different now.”

She’d made herself different. Maybe it was still a work in progress, but she had indeed made progress. She was reasonably attractive when she took time to work on it. She could hold up her end in conversations. She owned a business, for God’s sake. She had employees, and none of them thought of her as a wishy-washy add-on.

Three incredibly delightful and intelligent women now considered her a friend. Oh, she would treasure that, Naomi thought, closing her eyes. She would remember this single foolish afternoon all of her life.

And those three women knew and loved Ian, didn’t they? Why should she question their opinion?

And why didn’t she stop being a sniveling coward, get out of the car and see for herself?

“Okay. All right. We’re going.”

She drew calming breaths as she walked to the door. But they didn’t seem to do the job. Caffeine overload, she decided, and bracing herself, rang the bell.

He answered in bare feet, faded jeans and a ragged Harvard Law sweatshirt. And his quick smile of greeting warmed her shaky heart.

“Hi. I didn’t think I’d see you tonight.”

“I should have called. But I was just over at Julia’s, and—”

“Girl Day, yeah.” He grasped her hands, drawing her inside out of the chilly twilight. “They do that every couple of months. What the hell do you do on Girl Day?”

“Paint your nails, eat chocolate. Talk about men.”

“Yeah? What do you say about us?”

“Ah … could I have a drink?”

“Sure, sorry. Come on up. I’ve got some wine in the library, and I’m dying to show you what I’ve done.”

He could have eaten her up. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes dark, and the oversize sweater made his fingers itch to find her under it. So he kept his hands in his pockets as they walked upstairs.

“I’ve been at it most of the day,” he went on. “Once I got started, I couldn’t stop.” He stopped a short distance from the open door. “Close your eyes.”

When she obeyed without question, simply stood there, eyes shut, his hands fisted in his pockets. It took some effort to unball them, to lay them lightly on her shoulders and guide her into the room.

“Okay. Open up.”

When she did, her hands went straight to her heart. “Oh, Ian, it’s wonderful. It’s more than wonderful.” Eyes shining, she turned to look around the room, where the beautifully trimmed, built-in shelves were lined with books. Old worn spines, new glossy ones, embossed leather and tattered covers.

“Perfect. And your library ladder arrived! I just love it.” She turned in another circle, then beamed at him.

“I wanted you here.” His heart had circled with her, and now beat uncomfortably in his chest. “I wanted to see how the room would feel with you in it. Just right.” He dug his hands into his pockets again, dragged them back out. “Let me get you that wine.”

The hands still held against her heart dropped to her sides. She gathered all her courage. “Ian, do you want to go to bed with me?”

He bobbled the glass, splashed wine on his shirt, swore.
“What?”

“I don’t mean to be rude or to put you in an awkward position. It’s just that I’d like to know if you’re still attracted to me in that way or not. If not, then that’s fine, but if you are, and you’ve just been trying to be considerate because I haven’t been with a man before, you could stop now. I’d prefer you to stop being so considerate, if that’s what you’re being.”

She ran out of breath, and words, and compensated by shrugging as he stood staring at her, a bottle of wine in one hand, a half-empty glass in the other, and a good splotch of cabernet sauvignon spreading over his beloved Harvard Law sweatshirt.

He set the bottle down. “You don’t want me to be considerate?”

“No. Not really.”

He put the glass beside the bottle. “You don’t want me to keep my hands off you?”

A shivery thrill ran up her spine. “Not if you still feel, um, interested.”

His throat went bone-dry. This was the woman he wanted, and she was offering herself to him, as she’d done with no other man. Could he be careful enough to show her what there could be between the two of them?

He had to be, because nothing had ever been more important.

A smile was slowly curving his lips as he walked toward her. “The witness is required to answer the question. Yes or no. Do you want me to keep my hands off you?”

“No.” She had to tilt her head back to keep her eyes on his.

“Thank God.” Then he was sweeping her close, pulling her to her toes, and his mouth captured hers in a long, draining kiss that had her heart flopping helplessly in her chest.

“Does that answer your question?” he murmured, shifting his attention from her mouth to her neck until little startled sounds hummed in her throat.

“What question?”

“Do I want you? Do I want to make love with you?” Lord, she was delicious. “In case you missed my answer the first time, let me just repeat myself.” His lips skimmed over her jaw, then settled warmly on hers. “Got it now?”

“Yes.” For balance, for pleasure, she linked her arms around his neck. “Yes, I’ve got it now.”

“You’ve been making me crazy for weeks.” He circled her, slowly, toward the door.

“I—” The concept shocked and delighted. “Really?”