The MacGregor Brides by Nora Roberts Page B

or less.” Empowered by the desire darkening his eyes, she knelt to wrap her arms around his neck. “I’d hate for you to be a completely solid citizen.”
    “Isn’t that what you are?”
    She laughed, bit his bottom lip. “More or less.”
    “More, I’d say, than less. Laura MacGregor, of the Boston MacGregors.” His hand rode up her side to brush her breast. “What are you doing in my bed?”
    “You could say it occurred to me that’s exactly where I wanted to be.” She nibbled at his mouth. “I have a habit of going after what I want. It’s a family trait.” Her lips trailed over his jaw. “And I wanted you. I want you. Take me, Royce.” Her mouth closed over his, and destroyed any hope he had of thinking clearly. “Take me back where you took me before.”
    He dragged her hard against him, and took her back.

Chapter 8
    Snow buried the East Coast and caused school-age children to dance with joy. Hard winds blew down from Canada and brought bitter cold. Pipes burst, cars stalled, and streets turned to ice rinks.
    The brave or the determined crowded the shopping centers and malls to hunt for Christmas presents, to ponder bright wrappings and ribbons. Holiday cards arrived in the mail, and kitchens smelled of baking.
    Boston shivered, shoveled out, and watched another six inches of snow fall.
    Bundled in layers against the cold and armed with a snow shovel, Laura trooped out to clear the driveway. The sunlight bounced off the white ground and stung the eyes, so she fumbled a pair of sunglasses out of her pocket. The chill air bit her cheeks, burned her throat. She couldn’t have been happier.
    Beneath her red ski cap, she wore headphones. Music trilled in her ears. Christmas music, as bright and cheerful as her mood. Her life, she thought as she scooped up the first shovelful of snow, couldn’t be more perfect.
    She’d won her first case the week before. Just a small property-damage suit, of little consequence to the legal world, she thought. But she had faced the judge, argued her points. And she had won. She had two new clients who wanted wills drawn up.
    She was just beginning.
    Christmas was just around the corner, and she couldn’t ever remember looking forward to it more. She loved looking at the colored lights sparkling on houses, at the silly Santas and reindeer flying over lawns, the glimpses of brightly decorated trees behind windows.
    She even looked forward to braving the crowds and the madness to do her own holiday shopping. It didn’t matter if Julia and Gwen rolled their eyes at her when she burst into song or stared dreamily out the window. She could laugh off their comments about Laura in love.
    She wasn’t in love, she was simply enjoying the thrilling adventure of a romance with an exciting man. That was entirely different. If she was in love, she’d be worried. She’d sit by the phone and chew her nails, waiting for him to call. She’d think of him every minute of every day, plan every night around him. She’d lose her appetite, toss and turn in bed and suffer from wild mood swings.
    None of that was true, she decided, putting her back into her work. Well, maybe she thought of him a great deal, at odd times. Almost all the time. But she didn’t sit by the phone, she wasn’t off her feed, and her mood was up and steady.
    Had she sulked because he refused the invitation to share Thanksgiving dinner at Hyannis Port? Of course not. She’d missed him, and certainly she’d have liked him there, but she hadn’t pressed or nagged or wheedled.
    Therefore, Laura concluded as she tossed snow over her shoulder, she wasn’t in love.
    When hands gripped her hips, the shovel went flying. She was whirled around before she couldmanage more than a strangled scream, and then she was staring into very annoyed blue eyes. She noted that Royce’s head was covered with snow, that it coated his shoulders. And that his mouth was moving.
    “What?”
    He shook his head, took a deep breath, then