The MacGregor Brides Read Free Page A

said, with exaggerated enunciation, “Take off the headphones.”
    She’d just become aware of the music over the blood that was roaring in her head and ripped them off. “I said don’t move. I’m calling the cops.”
    “Okay.” Royce tried an easy smile. “But you’re going to look pretty stupid, since I’m just doing my job. Cameron Security? You didn’t answer when I knocked. I guess Whitney was singing too loud.” He kept his eyes on hers. “I’m just going to get out my ID.”
    “Two fingers,” she ordered. “And move slow.”
    That was his intention. Those big, dark eyes of hers held more temper and violence than fear. A woman who could face a strange man down alone, kitchen knife in hand, without trembling wasn’t a woman to challenge. “I had a nine-o’clock to assess the house and discuss systems.”
    She flicked her gaze down to the identification he held up. “An appointment with whom?”
    “Laura MacGregor.”
    She closed her free hand around the phone. “I’m Laura MacGregor, pal, and I didn’t make an appointment with you.”
    “Mr. MacGregor arranged the appointment.”
    She hesitated. “Which Mr. MacGregor?”
    Royce smiled again.
“The
MacGregor. Daniel MacGregor. I was to meet his granddaughter Laura at nine, and design and install the best security system known to man in order to protect his girls.” The smile flashed charmingly. “Your grandmother worries.”
    Laura took her hand from the phone, but didn’t put down the knife. It was precisely the kind of thing her grandfather would do, and exactly what he’d say. “When did he hire you?”
    “Last week. I had to go up to that fortress of his in Hyannis Port so he could check me out face-to-face. Hell of a place. Hell of a man. We had a Scotch and a cigar after we did the deal.”
    “Really?” She arched a brow. “And what did my grandmother have to say about that?”
    “About the deal?”
    “About the cigars.”
    “She wasn’t there when we closed the deal. And since he locked the door of his office before he got the cigars out of a hollowed-out copy of
War and Peace
, I have to conclude she doesn’t approve of cigars.”
    Laura let out a long breath, set the knife back in the wooden knife block. “Okay, Mr. Cameron, youpass.”
    “He said you’d be expecting me. I take it you weren’t.”
    “No, I wasn’t. He called this morning, said something about a present he was sending. I think.” She shrugged, her hair flowing with the movement, picked up the drumstick she’d dropped and dumped it in the wastecan. “How did you get in?”
    “He gave me a key.” Royce dug it out of his pocket, and put it into the hand Laura held out. “I did ring the bell. Several times.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    Royce glanced down at the soft-drink can. “You’ve got a good arm, Ms. MacGregor.” He shifted his gaze back to her face. Cheekbones that could cut glass, he thought, a mouth fashioned for wild sex, and eyes the color of sinful dark chocolate. “And possibly the most incredible face I’ve ever seen.”
    She didn’t like the way he was looking at it, savoring it, she thought, with a stare that was arrogant, rude and unnerving. “You have good reflexes, Mr. Cameron. Or you’d be lying on my kitchen floor with a concussion right now.”
    “Might have been worth it,” he said with a grin that tried to be disarming, but was just wicked, and offered her back the soft drink.
    “I’ll get dressed, then we can discuss security systems.”
    “You don’t have to change on my account.”
    She angled her head and gave him a look that encompassed him from his overly appreciative expression to his don’t-mess-with-me stance. “Yes, I do. Because if you keep looking at me that way for another ten seconds, you will have a concussion. I won’t be long.”
    She sailed by him. Royce turned as she passed so that he could enjoy watching her walk away on those endless, fascinating legs. And he whistled through his teeth again.
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