The MacGregor Grooms Read Online Free Page A

son.
    “Would you like to dance?”
    Her heart dropped to her toes. If he danced the way he drove, she’d be lucky to leave the dance floor with all of her limbs intact. “Yes, of course.”
    Feeling like a woman approaching a firing squad, she rose and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor.
    At least the music was lovely, she mused. Slow, dreamy, heavy on the brass. A number of couples were taking advantage of it, so the dance floor was crowded. Crowded enough that Layna had hope her partner wouldn’t feel compelled to plow through it, stumbling over her feet and wrenching her arms out of their sockets.
    Then he stopped near the edge of the dance floor and turned her into his arms.
    It was surprise, she decided, sheer surprise that had her mind fogging. Who would have believed that such a big man could move so well? The large hand at her waist wasn’t rough or awkward, but it was very, very male. It made her outrageously aware there was only a thin barrier of silk between it and her skin.
    The lights twinkled down, dancing over his face, over that not-quite-tamed mane of richly colored hair. His shoulders were so broad, she thought numbly. His eyes so blue.
    She struggled to clear such ridiculous thoughts out of her mind and behave. “Your parents are wonderful people.”
    “I like them.”
    She was slim as a willow, he thought. A long-stemmed rose. He watched the lights play over her face, hardly aware he’d drawn her closer. Their bodies fit like two pieces of a complicated puzzle.
    Her pulse quickened. Without thinking, she slid her hand over his shoulder so her fingers brushed the back of his neck. “Um …” What had they been talking about? “I’d forgotten how lovely Washington can be in the spring.”
    “Uh-huh.” Desire snaked up his spine, circled in his gut. Where the hell had it come from? “I want to sketch your face.”
    “Of course.” She hadn’t heard a word he was saying. She could only think that a woman could blissfully drown in those eyes. “I believe they’re calling for rain tomorrow.” A little sigh escaped when his fingers splayed over her back.
    “Fine.” If he dipped his head, he could have that mouth, find out if the taste of it would soothe the edges on this sudden clawing need, or sharpen it.
    Then the music ended. Someone bumped them and shattered the thin glass bubble that seemed to have surrounded them.
    Both of them stepped back. Both of them frowned.
    “Thank you,” Layna said, and her voice was carefully controlled again. “That was very nice.”
    “Yeah.” He took her arm, keeping the contact very light, very impersonal. He wanted to get her back to the table, dump her and escape until his mind cleared.
    More than willing to cooperate, Layna let herself be guided through. She wanted to sit down quickly before her legs gave way.

Chapter 3
    D.C.’s big plan for Sunday was to sleep late, eat an enormous breakfast, which he’d specifically shopped for, and spend a couple hours at his health club. After that his most knotty decision would be whether to while away the afternoon in solitude or to wander down to M Street to the blues festival.
    The plan broke apart when he found himself awake and restless just after sunrise.
    Annoyed, he tried to sink back into the fitful sleep that had plagued him through the night. But every time he began to drift, he started to think of her. That was more irritating than getting up.
    There was no reason for Layna Drake to be on his mind. That one moment of physical connection, of awareness, had been a short side trip in a long and uneventful evening. They’d been scrupulously polite to each other, had mingled, socialized and made tedious small talk, together and separately.
    He’d driven her home—deliberately keeping his speed under the limit, signaling for every turn, and braking gently. They had exchanged lukewarm handshakes and goodbyes at her door. And, he was certain, had each been desperately relieved to have