The MacGregor Brides Read Free Page B

way or the other, he thought with a long appreciative sigh, Laura MacGregor was a knockout.

Chapter 2
    In the law offices of MacGregor and MacGregor, Laura sat at a long oak table, surrounded by books. She’d buried herself in the library all morning, determined to find an additional precedent for the brief she was refining on her latest assignment.
    When her parents returned the following week, she’d have it perfected. Her mother was trying the case of Massachusetts v. Holloway, and Laura was doing research on it for her, but she’d developed an emotional attachment to this particular case.
    If she handled the paperwork, the legwork, the hours of research, she might earn a seat beside her mother in the courtroom. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be allowed to question a witness.
    She wanted the intensity of the courtroom, the drama of judge and jury. She understood the value of research, the necessity of planning every move and every eventuality of a trial case. She’d read and study until her eyes crossed, but by God, she was going to earn her stripes. And eventually, her own caseload.
    Amanda Holloway had killed her husband. There was no question about the deed. But guilt, by law, was another matter. She’d been battered emotionally and physically for five miserable years. Five years of broken bones and a broken spirit, Laura thought. It was easy to say she should have walked out—she should have run, and never looked back. In fact, Laura sometimes caught herself thinking just that. But Amanda Holloway hadn’t walked and she hadn’t run. In the end, she had snapped.
    One night during the heat of high summer, after another beating, another rape, she had taken her husband’s service revolver and emptied the clip into him while he slept.
    The pity of it, Laura thought coolly, was that she’d waited more than an hour after the rape. An hour equaled premeditation. The fact that John Holloway had been a cop with a file full of commendations also didn’t help matters.
    Some might think that justice had been done that night, but the law trod a colder line. And Laura was determined to use the law to keep Amanda Holloway out of prison.
    * * *
    Royce really enjoyed watching her. Just now, she didn’t resemble the woman who’d sung in her underwear, or the coolly polite one who’d worn a simple sweater and discussed alarm systems with him. She’d tamed that waterfall of dark hair into a complicated braid that lay down the center of her back. She had simple gold drops at her ears and a slim gold watch on her wrist, along with the wink and flash of a diamond tennis bracelet.
    Her white silk blouse was very tailored, and a navy blazer hung over the back of her chair. Theroom smelled of leather, polished wood and woman.
    Just now, he thought, Laura MacGregor looked classy, expensive and utterly unapproachable. Unapproachable, Royce mused, unless a man had seen her hips wiggling about in a pair of silk boxers.
    He leaned on the doorjamb. “You look like a lawyer.”
    Her head shot up. He admired the speed with which she recovered. Surprise was no more than a flash in those dark chocolate eyes before they cooled. “I passed the bar last summer. I am a lawyer. Do you need one?”
    “Not at the moment, but I’ll keep you in mind.” The fact was, he’d kept her in mind for the better part of a week.
    Windswept hair, that intriguing little scar, those damn-the-devil eyes combined to make him a man a woman couldn’t help wondering about. Since she didn’t want to wonder, she wanted him gone. “The offices are basically closed until the end of the month.”
    “So the receptionist told me downstairs. But I’m not here to hire you or your parents.” He walked in—his movements making her think of a cat poised to spring—and edged a hip on the table.
    “Why are you here?”
    “I had a job to look over in the neighborhood. I thought I’d let you know we’ll start installing your system Saturday