The MacGregor Grooms Read Free

her adored godmother suddenly looked so unhappy, Layna relented. “It doesn’t matter. As you said, I’m going anyway.” Gracefully, she stepped into her gown. “Are we meeting him there?”
    “Ah …” Gauging the timing, Myra rose. “Actually, he’ll be here shortly to pick you up. I’ll meet you there. Goodness, look at the time. My driver must be wondering what happened to me.”
    “But—”
    “I’ll see you in an hour or so, darling,” Myra called out, moving with surprising speed for a woman of her age. “You look gorgeous,” she said once she was safely halfway down the stairs.
    Layna stood in the unzipped column of white silk and heaved out a breath. Typical, she thought. It was just typical. Her godmother was forever shoving men into her path. Which left her with the sometimes irritating job of having to push them out again.
    Marriage was something she’d firmly crossed off her life plan. After growing up in a house where manners took precedence over love, and casual affairs were politely ignored, Layna had no intention of finding herself in the same sort of relationship.
    Men were fine as decoration, as long as she ran the show. And at the moment, her career was much more important than having someone to dine with on Saturday night.
    She intended to continue her steady climb up the family’s corporate ladder at Drake’s. In ten years, according to her calculations, she would take over as CEO.
    It was another show she intended to run.
    Drake’s wasn’t just a department store, it was an institution. Being single, and remaining that way, ensured she could devote all her time and energies to maintaining its reputation and its style.
    She wasn’t her mother, Layna thought with a faint frown marring her brow, who thought of Drake’s as her personal closet. Or her father, who had always been more concerned with bottom-line profits than innovations or traditions. She was, Layna thought, herself.
    And to her, Drake’s was both a responsibility and a joy. It was, she supposed, her true family.
    Some, she mused, might find that sad. But she found it comforting.
    With a quick move, she zipped the dress. Part of her responsibilities to Drake’s was to mingle, to attend social functions. To her, it was simply a matter of changing gears, from one kind of work to another. The after-hours work called on training she’d received throughout her childhood and was second nature to her now.
    And the “job” often meant being linked with the proper escort.
    At least this time her aunt Myra didn’t appear to have any real interest in making a match. It would just be a matter of making small talk with a virtual stranger for an evening. And God knew she was an expert at such matters.
    She turned and picked up the pearl-and-diamond drops she’d already set out on her dresser. The room reflected her taste—simple elegance with a dash of flash. The antique headboard of carved cherry, the highly polished surfaces of lovingly tended occasional tables topped with vases of fresh flowers or carefully chosen accessories.
    Her home now, she thought with quiet pride. She’d made it her own.
    There was a cozy seating area in front of a small marble fireplace and a dainty ladies’ vanity displaying a collection of boldly colored perfume bottles.
    She selected her scent, absently dabbing it on while she allowed herself to wish, just for a moment, that she could spend the evening quietly at home. She’d put in a ten-hour day at Drake’s. Her feet hurt, her brain was tired and her stomach was empty.
    Pushing all that aside, she turned to the cheval glass to check the line and fit of her gown. It was cut straight at the bodice and flowed without fuss to the ankles, leaving her shoulders bare. She added the short jacket, slipped into her shoes and checked the contents of her evening bag.
    When the doorbell rang she only sighed once. At least he was prompt.
    She remembered D.C. vaguely from childhood. She’d been much too