The MacGregor Grooms (7 page)

“She won’t catch me.” Content, Daniel puffed out smoke and wiggled his eyebrows at his son. “Alan, I’ll have a real glass of whiskey this time.”

“It’s not worth my head.”

“Coward,” Daniel muttered, but settled back with his cigar. “Myra’s telling me the girl’s too buried in her work just now. No social life.”

“Her choice.” D.C. shrugged, and catching Daniel’s sorrowful look, sighed and handed over what was left in his own whiskey glass.

“You’re a fine, respectful lad.” Daniel sent his son a beetle-browed look that made Alan laugh. “At least we’ve got one here who isn’t afraid of his poor old granny. Now, as I was saying … that young lass has Myra fretting day and night. Glad I got down to get a good look at her again, see what she’s made of. Girl needs the right man beside her. A banker, I’m thinking, or an up-and-coming executive.”

“What?” D.C. stopped sulking long enough to tune in. “A banker? What the devil are you talking about?”

“Why, seeing that Layna has some proper companionship. Happens I know a young man right here in Washington. He’s already worked his way up to department manager. Good head on his shoulders has Henry,” Daniel continued, pulling a name out of his hat. “Got a future ahead of him. I’ll just give him a call.”

“Hold on, just hold the hell on.” Lurching out of his chair, D.C. stared at his grandfather. “You’re going to call some stiff-necked banker named Henry and try to fix him up with Layna?”

“He’s a good lad, comes from a nice family.” Daniel blinked innocent blue eyes. “It’s the least I can do for Myra.”

“The least you can do is stay out of it. Layna’s not interested in being bartered off to some banker.”

“What a thing to say. Bartered indeed.” As glee danced in his heart, Daniel scowled at his grandson. “I’m speaking of arranging a perfectly acceptable social connection between two young people.” He jabbed the air with his cigar. “And if you’d concentrate on finding the proper woman for yourself, you wouldn’t have time to get on your high horse about someone else’s business. What’s Layna Drake to you, I’d like to know.”

“Nothing!” D.C. threw up his hands and shouted it, pleasing his grandfather enormously. “She’s nothing to me.”

“Glad to hear it.” The boy’s hooked good and proper, Daniel decided, and thought he’d just reel
him in a bit more. “Couldn’t be more ill suited to each other. You don’t want to be casting your eyes in that direction, lad. What you need is a fine, sturdy girl, one who’ll give you lusty babies and won’t be worrying if her nail polish chips. That lass is too elegant for you, when you’re needing more the earthy sort.”

“I think I’m the best judge of what I need,” D.C. said coolly.

Daniel got to his feet, shot D.C. a narrow-eyed stare. “You’d do best to listen to the wisdom and experience of your elders.”

“Hah!” was D.C.’s response to that, and it took all Daniel’s willpower not to laugh out loud and kiss his grandson with soaring pride.

He watched steely-eyed as D.C. stalked into the hall and shouted for Layna.

“What are you up to, MacGregor?” Alan murmured.

“Watch, see and learn, boy.” He remained standing and stone-faced as Layna came down the hall. The ice in her voice could have frosted glass at fifty paces.

“What in the world are you shouting about?”

“Come on.” D.C. grabbed her hand, pulling her down the hall.

“What? Let go of me.”

“We’re leaving.”

“I’m not leaving.”

He solved the problem in a way that made Daniel’s heart swell with family pride. D.C. scooped her off her feet and carried her out the door.

“Now that’s a MacGregor. He’s—sweet Lord, here comes your mother.” Daniel shoved whiskey and cigar into his son’s hands and bolted for the side door. “Tell her I’ve gone to take a turn around the garden,” he ordered, and escaped.

Shelby came in first, pushing a hand through her hair. “What’s all the shouting?” she demanded, then scanned the room. “Where’s D.C? Where’s Layna?” And her eyes narrowed. “Where’s your father?”

“Well …” Alan contemplated the cigar, decided he might as well enjoy it. “The best I can tell you is …” He smiled, puffed on the cigar as his mother and Myra came into the room. “My father told D.C. that Layna wasn’t suitable, which naturally put D.C.’s back up—as intended. After snarling at The MacGregor, he carried a very annoyed Layna out of the house.”

“Carried her out?” Myra put her hand over her heart as her eyes filled with romantic tears. “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t see. I just knew one more little push would …” She trailed off as she caught the bland stares of her companions. “What I mean to say is … hmm.”

“Myra.” Anna puffed out a sigh. “I can’t believe, after all these years, you’d actually
encourage
Daniel this way. And you,” she said to her son. “Who do you think you’re fooling with that cigar? Go get your father.” She sat and serenely folded her hands. “And then let’s hear the whole story.”

“
You’ve lost your mind.” Shock prevented Layna from struggling until they were out the door and heading down the sidewalk. Even when she snapped back, the best she could do was gape at him. “Put me down.” She spoke calmly, certain that a raised voice would make things worse. “Put me down, D.C. Get a hold of yourself.”

“It’s for your own good,” he muttered, striding down the sidewalk and staring straight ahead with grim eyes. “If I hadn’t gotten you out of there, the next thing you know you’d be married to some banker named Henry.”

She’d never heard a whisper of a rumor about insanity in the MacGregor family. Then again, she supposed, such things could be hushed up.

“All right, that’s enough.” Children were starting to point at them and giggle. A woman watering the petunias in her window box stopped to stare. “I told you to put me down, and I mean it.”

“You’re not going back there. You have no idea what that old schemer’s got in store for you. First it’ll be, ‘I’d like you to meet my young banker friend, Henry,’ and next you’ll be picking out china patterns. He’s ruthless.”

“I will not be carted down the street like a parcel.” Which, she realized, was exactly what it felt like. He’d marched down two blocks and wasn’t so much as breathing heavily. He had arms, she realized—reluctantly—like steel beams. “Put me down and I’ll forget this ever happened—forget you embarrassed me in front of your family and Aunt Myra, forget the inconvenience and the mortification. Most of all I’ll forget you, you dunderhead.”

“He’s a sly one,” D.C. continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Sly and sneaky, and he’s taken an interest in you now. God save you.”

Her temper—and she felt she’d been admirably restrained in that area up to this point—snapped. She punched his shoulder, which did no more than give her sore knuckles. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He did the same thing to my sister. And she’s married with a son already. And my cousins, too. Three of them. Now he’s got delusions of grandeur. Thinks he’s some supermatchmaker. And he’s got his eye on you, baby.”

She hit him again, flat-handed this time on the side of the head. As expected, it was like slapping granite. “Who are you talking about? Damn it, if you don’t put me down—”

“The MacGregor, of course. Here, we’ll talk about it inside.”

“Inside?” She’d barely blinked before he shouldered open a door. “Inside where? I want you to
put me down!
”

“It’s my place. Obviously you don’t see what he’s up to. Thousands wouldn’t. You’ll thank me when we straighten this out.”

“Thank you? Oh, I’ll
thank
you all right, Daniel Campbell MacGregor.” The roaring in her head nearly blocked out the fact that he carried her onto an elevator. An occupied elevator. Hot color spread
up her neck as the tidy middle-aged couple beamed at them.

“Hello, D.C., how are you?”

“Well enough.” He tossed a smile at the woman as the couple stepped out into the lobby. “And you?”

“Just fine. Such a beautiful day.”

Layna simply closed her eyes as the elevator door slid closed. Obviously, she decided, the man made a habit of hauling women bodily up to his apartment. His neighbors were used to it. Why be embarrassed when she was just one of a crowd?

“I think it’s clear that your lifestyle and mine are dramatically opposed.” She heard herself speak in a calm, clear voice, and blocked out the thunderous beat of her heart. “And though we have some family connections and live in the same neighborhood, I don’t think it should be a problem to avoid each other from this point to the end of our lives.”

She drew in a cleansing breath, let it out slowly. “Now I realize I’m repeating myself, but I want you to put me down.”

His temper had cleared just enough for him to become distracted by the way she smelled. Coolly, quietly sexy. And turning her head so that their faces were close, so that their mouths nearly brushed, was her mistake, after all. What was a man supposed to do but take a good, long taste?

So he did, easily fitting his mouth over hers, patiently waiting out her first jolt of shock, greedily absorbing her quick hot burst of response.

Missed you.
He muttered it, or perhaps only thought it. She turned into him, her hands fisting in his hair as her mouth moved under his. A low purr sounded in her throat and shot fire straight to his loins.

The doors opened, remained wide, then started to close again before he managed to think clearly enough to block the movement with his shoulder.

She dragged her hands through his hair, fisted them again to keep his mouth on hers. Her heart had gone wild, pounding some primitive beat through her blood. Need, outrageous need, clawed after it.

When he swore, tore his mouth from hers, her lust-hazed mind tried to clear. “What?”

“Trying to get the damn key.” If he didn’t unlock the bloody door, get her inside, he thought he might very well end up taking her in the hall.

“What?” she said again, then pressed her hands to her face as reason struggled to surface. “Wait. This is—”

“There.” He shoved the door open, then simply turned and kicked it shut with his foot as he crushed his mouth to hers again.

“No, wait.”

“We’ll talk later.” He drew back, barely an inch, and his eyes, burning blue, stared into hers. “Now we’ll finish this.”

“No, we’ll …” She couldn’t get her breath, couldn’t quite get a grip on that slippery edge of reason. So for the first time in her life, she let it go. It looked as if she was going to take that wild, fast ride, after all.

“We’ll talk later,” she said breathlessly, and dragged his mouth back to hers.

He had to get his hands on her. He set her on her feet, braced her back against the door and moved those wide-palmed artist’s hands over her. She was willow slim, graceful, extraordinary. Then, tugging the sweater over her head, he traced the same path with his lips.

Fast and greedy, as if a part of him feared she would vanish or slip away. He wanted it all— the balletic curve of her shoulders, the lovely female swell of her breasts, the long, slender torso. Her skin, smooth as satin, went hot under his mouth.

He took her hips, hitched her off her feet again and began to steadily devour.

She cried out, her hands braced on his shoulders. Somehow her legs had wound themselves around his waist. Wild fists of need battered at her, pushing her into a narrow world where the heat was brutal and there was only one answer.

“Now. Right now.” The raw words burned her throat. Her fingers trembled as she yanked at his shirt. Desperate, she used her teeth on his neck.

Then they were on the floor, grappling, fighting with clothes, panting like animals as they groped for flesh. And flesh was damp, dewed with desire.

In a fierce and sudden move, he twisted, shifting her until they were face-to-face, torso-to-torso. His eyes were wildly blue as he lifted her hips. “Now,” he said, watching her face. “Right now.”

He filled her. She surrounded him. Time spun out, no movement, all sensation. Light poured through the windows, wide beams where dust motes danced. His heart pounded against hers, beat to beat. She tried to hold herself there, just there on that dangerous and delicious edge.

But her body craved more. She began to move.

She arched back, lost in the flood of fresh pleasure, moaning when he leaned in to lick at her skin, shuddering when his mouth closed hungrily over her breast.

As the pace quickened she rode with him, and gloried in it.

He couldn’t get enough. His hands raced up her back, then down again. The taste of her exploded inside him and only heightened a craving for more. Every moan or ragged gasp brought him a fresh thrill. Then her nails bit into his back; her body arched back like a drawn bow. He was helpless to stop himself from tumbling over the edge with her.

*   *   *

He could have slept for a week. The thought slipped into his mind as he lay back, cushioning her. With his eyes closed, his body blissfully relaxed, he stroked a lazy hand over her hair.

Who would have thought, he mused, that there had been a wildcat pacing around inside the coolly composed Ms. Drake? He was delighted to have broken the lock on the cage door.

She was appalled. Or she badly wanted to be. She was naked, lying on the floor where her clothes were scattered. She had just had crazed and mindless sex with a man she wasn’t entirely sure she liked.

Mindless was precisely what it had been, she admitted. Her mind simply shut off whenever he touched her. She’d never in her life behaved that way. Torn at a man’s clothes, used nails and teeth on his flesh, let him touch and take and take again until she was biting back screams.

And she felt … fabulous.

Just a physical reaction, she told herself. She kept her eyes closed, struggling to find her common sense somewhere inside the glow that seemed to surround her. She’d been celibate for … well, a very long time, she thought. Her body had simply betrayed her convictions. She was human, after all, and susceptible to certain basic needs.

And this … experience had certainly been as basic as basic could get.

Now it was time to put things back in some kind of order.