Free The MacGregor Brides by Nora Roberts Page B

there’s—” He pulled himself up short again. His brain was mush. It had been years since he had to wake alert at a moment’s notice. “You came by for a drink?”
    “Is that a problem?” She kept the casual, pleasant smile on her face and, judging the kitchen to be to the left, wandered toward it. “Do you want some wine?”
    “No.” He stared after her, raked his hands through his tousled hair again. “No. Help yourself.”
    “I will.” He obviously stayed out of the kitchen as much as possible, she mused. It was neat enough to indicate disuse. But she did find a decent bottle of chardonnay in the fridge and, after a brief search through cupboards, an unchipped glass. “No frills for you, huh?”
    “I don’t spend a lot of time here.” He moved toward the kitchen, watching her pour the wine. “It’s just here.”
    “And I imagine you’re funneling most of your profits back into your business. Which would be wise, and frugal. Are you wise and frugal, Royce?”
    “Not particularly. I just don’t need a lot of the extras.”
    “I like the extras.” She toasted him and sipped. “I suppose I’m high-maintenance.” She studied him over the rim of her glass. His eyes were heavy, she noted. Sleepy, sexy. His mouth was just a little sulky. The jeans weren’t buttoned, and rode low on narrow hips. His chest was bare, well-defined, with a thin white scar slicing just under his left shoulder. “Did you get that on the job?”
    “Get what?”
    “The scar.”
    He glanced down, shrugged. “Yeah. What’s the deal here, Slim?”
    “I have a question to ask you.”
    “Okay, true or false, or multiple-choice?”
    “Just yes or no.” She made an effort to keep her eyes on his. Too much study of that tough, compact body was bound to distract her. “Were you aware that my grandfather hired you to ensure the MacGregor line continues?”
    “Huh?”
    “Just yes or no, Royce, it’s not terribly complicated. I’ll rephrase the question. Were you aware when you accepted the job to handle house security for me that my grandfather had selected you, as you fulfilled his requirements, as a potential mate for me?”
    “Mate? What do you mean, mate?” His brain was beginning to clear. “You mean— You’re kidding.”
    “I believe that answers the question.” She started to move by him, but his hand snaked out and closed over her arm.
    “Are you saying that he bought me for you?”
    “In the nicest possible way.”
    “That’s bull.”
    “No, that’s the MacGregor.” Laura patted Royce’s hand. “Some men would be flattered.”
    “Really.” His eyes were narrowed slits of flame blue. “Oh, really.”
    Because she understood, and appreciated his reaction, she patted his hand again. “You had no idea what he was up to? He’s not all that subtle. He thinks he is, but he’s not.”
    Royce dropped his hand, stepped back. “I got the impression—early on—I got the idea that he was trying to set something up. But I figured that was because you were incredibly ugly.”
    A laugh burst out before she could stop it. “Thank you so much.”
    “No. Wait.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. Maybe he was having a dream, maybe not. Either way, he had to pick his way through it. “He mentioned you a lot, his granddaughter Laura. Bright, brilliant, beautiful. Single. I thought he hinted pretty broadly and figured you must be desperate for … well, desperate. Then I got a look at you and decided I’d misread the signals.”
    She cocked her head. “Now I suppose I should be flattered.”
    “You’re telling me that he set this up so …”
    “He wants me married. And raising a family. He thinks you’d breed well.”
    “That I’d—” Royce held up a hand, stepped back again. “Just hold on. I’m not in the market for … breeding.”
    “Neither am I. That’s handy, isn’t it?”
    “The old bastard.”
    “Exactly, but be careful. We can call him that, but we don’t take kindly when others