Free The MacGregor Brides by Nora Roberts Page A

while. Mama smoothed it out, mostly. But when he said that Grandpa had … Well, the light dawned on how the whole business got rolling, so I had to come up and yell at Grandpa.”
    “Naturally.” The MacGregors never failed to make their point at top volume, Anna mused, and brushed her hand back to tidy a wave of her sable-colored hair. “But you’ve made up now.”
    “You can’t stay mad at Grandpa. He wheedles it out of you.”
    “No one knows that better than I. And no one loves more than Daniel.”
    “I know.” She bit her lip. She was about to say what she hadn’t allowed herself to say before. “Grandma … I think I could fall in love with Royce. If I let myself.”
    “Laura.” Anna reached out, took the hand Laura held out to her. “The thing about falling is that you have absolutely no choice. It just happens. Here comes Daniel.” She gave Laura’s hand a squeeze when she heard Daniel’s heavy tread on the stairs. “I wouldn’t mention that last part to him just yet.”
    “I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction,” Laura said primly, and picked up her tea as Daniel strode in.
    “Well, well.” He smiled broadly. “Two beautiful women. And they’re all mine.”

Chapter 7
    Laura didn’t go home. She drove back to Boston, stopped and ate dinner alone to give herself time to think. As she saw it, she had two choices. She could be stubborn, attempt to teach her meddling grandfather a lesson and never see Royce Cameron again.
    That idea didn’t make the hot-fudge sundae she had treated herself to go down pleasantly.
    On the other hand, she could simply allow her relationship—if it was a relationship—with Royce to progress naturally, over time. She could consider that this blip, this interruption in the forward rush of things, was a sign to slow down, to consider carefully. To look before she leaped.
    But MacGregors were leapers, not lookers.
    And that was why, at one-fifteen in the morning, she was standing outside Royce’s apartment, banging her fist on the door.
    The door across the hall opened a crack, just enough for her to see a pair of scowling, bloodshot eyes peering out at her. Laura narrowed her own and hissed. The door shut again with an abrupt snap.
    She pounded again, heard a thump and a curse. Then saw a narrow light beam under the door. She angled her head and smiled blandly, certain Royce was staring at her through the Judas hole. An instant later, locks rattled open.
    “What’s wrong?” he demanded.
    “Why should there be anything wrong?” She sailed inside. “Shut the door, Royce, you have a nosy neighbor across the hall.”
    He shut the door, leaned back against it and struggled to orient himself. She looked as fresh and pressed as she had at ten o’clock that morning in her tidy pin-striped suit and practical heels. He felt as rumpled as last night’s sheets in the ragged jeans he’d managed to find on the floor and tug on.
    He rubbed his hands over his face, heard the crackle of beard against palm, then dragged his hands back and through his sleep-tangled hair. “Is it one in the morning, or did I oversleep?”
    Laura turned her wrist, gave her watch a careful study. “It’s 1:17 a.m. To be exact.”
    “Yeah, let’s be exact. What are you doing here?”
    Enjoying herself she wandered the tiny living area. “I’ve never been up to your place.” She noted about a week’s worth of dust on scarred furniture. Newspapers piled on the floor by a sagging sofa. A small, really excellent watercolor of Boston Harbor on the wall, a high-end stereo system on a set of pine shelves and a Berber rug that was in desperate need of a good vacuuming.
    “Now I see why.” She arched her brows. “You’re a pig.”
    “I wasn’t expecting—” He caught himself. It was one o’-damn-clock in the morning, he remembered. “Yeah, so what?”
    “Just an observation. Do you have any wine? I didn’t want to have a drink, since I was driving.”
    “Yeah, I think