The MacGregor Brides (27 page)

“It’s tough caring about that at the moment, but yes, okay.” Her face was flushed, her eyes smoking. And, he realized with shock and embarrassment, his knees were shaking. “If we do what we’re both thinking about doing right now, we’ll really hate ourselves and each other in the morning. Of course, I feel obliged to point out it’s a while yet till morning.”

She was grateful she could smile. “We’d better give this a wide pass. Chalk it up to stress and hormones and whatever.” Watching him, she eased away from the door, giving him space to get by. “It’ll probably go away.”

“We can hope.” Cullum started to open the door. God knew he needed air and space. “What if it doesn’t, Julia?”

“I don’t know.”

He studied her for another moment, wondered if she could possibly be as baffled and aroused as he. “Me, either,” he decided, and got out fast.

Julia found dozens of things to keep her occupied and out of Cullum’s way for the next few weeks. Autumn had taken over New England, with its exceptional style. Trees roared with color, and as they passed their peak, the air took on a snap that hinted slyly of winter.

She looked at properties, put in bids. She dropped by her cousin’s office, visited with Laura and her aunt and uncle, had lunch with friends. She shopped, scouring the stores for Christmas presents, and for baby gifts. Her cousin Gwen was three months pregnant. The three-foot stuffed Saint Bernard was the perfect excuse to drop by the house she and Gwen and Laura had once shared.

She found Gwen at home, poring over cookbooks.

“What are you doing?”

Gwen smiled helplessly, running a nervous hand through her reddish-gold cap of hair. “I really think it’s time I learned to cook. At least a couple of standard meals.”

“Dr. Blade— Oops. Dr. Maguire.” Julia plopped down at the kitchen table. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going to have three months’ maternity leave. I’ll be home. I should—” she gestured vaguely “—do home things.”

“Does Branson care if you can whip up a meat loaf?”

“No, of course not. I do. It’s the oddest thing.” She ran a hand over her still-flat belly. “I suppose it’s part of the whole nesting process. In any case, I’m a surgeon, I’m a scientist, certainly I can figure out the basic formula for, say, meat loaf, and deliver an edible product.”

Resting her elbows on the table, she cupped her chin in her hands and grinned at the huge stuffed dog. “I like your new pet.”

“Me, too. I was thinking my upcoming niece or nephew would take good care of him.”

“That’s so sweet, Julia. Did I tell you we’re planning on doing an animal theme in the nursery?”

“No more than ten or fifteen times. No need to ask how you’re feeling,” she added. “You look great.”

“I feel great. I’ve never been happier in my life—and I’ve had a very happy life.”

“The hospital work isn’t too much?”

“It’s what I want. It fuels me, and satisfies me. You want some coffee? I’m off caffeine, but—”

“No, I don’t want anything.”

“How about you? How’s the house going?”

“Coming right along. My bedroom’s finished, and it’s fabulous. We’ve got a long way to go on the rest, but it’s moving. They’re working on the kitchen now.”

Gwen angled her head, studying Julia’s face. “What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“What’s under it? You’ve got something on your mind, I can see it.”

“It’s nothing.” But she pushed away from the table to pace. “It’s silly.”

“Not if it’s bothering you.”

“It’s not really bothering me. It’s … surprising me.” This was why she’d come, after all, Julia admitted, and dropped back down into the chair. “You know Cullum Murdoch.”

“Yes, of course. He’s the son of Grandpa’s old friend. Construction. They did some work on this place when we first bought it.”

“Right. Well, he’s the head contractor on my job now. I don’t get along with him. Personality clash, I suppose.”

“Then why is he working on your house?”

“Long story, and not the point.” Julia brushed it away with her fingers. “A couple of weeks ago we were alone in the house, and it was late, and …”

“Oh.” Gwen bit the inside of her lip. “I see.”

“No, you don’t.” Julia huffed out a breath. “It was just a sudden animal attraction—and we didn’t follow through on it. We agreed it would be a mistake.”

“Because you don’t get along.”

“That, and we’ve got this professional relationship. I adore his father. That’s just one more thing. If Cullum and I ended up in bed to, well, sort of flush this out of our systems, let’s say, I don’t know how I’d face Mr. Murdoch.”

“As I remember Mr. Murdoch, he’s a sensible man who loves his son. I can’t imagine he’d be shocked that the two of you find each other attractive.”

“Finding someone attractive isn’t a license to tear up the sheets with him.” Julia blew out a breath. “Gwen, I really want to tear up the sheets with Cullum.”

“Is he a decent man?”

“Decent? Well, yes, I suppose.”

“Does he have humor, intelligence, kindness?”

“He’s—” She remembered the way he’d held little Daniel. “Yes. It’s just that we butt heads. He’s very opinionated and stubborn.”

“Oh.” Gwen didn’t bother to suppress the laugh, just let it roll. “And of course you’re so flexible and open-minded.”

“Compared to him, I am,” Julia said defensively, then laughed at herself. “Okay, that’s probably the root of the problem. We both know our own minds and have no problem pushing our opinions on others. He can be right occasionally. It’s just that I’m right more.” She leaned forward. “He’s got these incredible hands. Wide and rough and really strong. I think about them a lot.”

“And you wish they were attached to the arms of a more amenable man.”

She started to agree, then debated with herself. “I’m not sure. I would have said so a month ago. Now I’m starting to find even the abrasiveness appealing. Sexy. I think I need to get away for a few days.”

“Well, that couldn’t hurt. But I’ve never known anyone more sure of their own mind and heart than you. Or more willing to risk going after what she wants. If you end up wanting Cullum, I’d tell you to be careful, to protect yourself, but to trust yourself.”

“Good advice.” Julia skimmed her hair back from her face. “It may be a good time for me to visit my parents in Washington for a few days. A little distance couldn’t hurt. And there’s some property down there I want to check on, anyway.”

“Be sure to give them my love. And—” she smiled wickedly “—be sure to keep me up-to-date on the Murdoch project.”

* * *

It was a good way to think of it, Julia decided as she pulled up in front of her house. The Murdoch project. She was an expert on projects, figuring the angles, the profit and loss, the effort and time.

That was exactly what she was going to do, she thought. She would figure the angles, calculate what she could gain or lose, and how much effect Cullum Murdoch would have on her life.

And she was going to do it from a nice, safe distance.

She walked inside, gave an absent wave to some of the workmen, and headed upstairs to pack.

It would be great to surprise her parents, to just drop in for a few days. She really hadn’t spent any time alone with them in nearly a year. For the most part, they got together with most or all of the family. And that was more a riot than a visit.

Tapping her foot, she contemplated her wardrobe. She adored the walk-in closet, the space and organization. To her, it was much more practical in this incarnation than it had been as a dressing room. She selected casual clothes, blazers, slacks, one basic dinner dress, and was carrying them toward the bed to the open suitcase when Cullum walked in.

He lifted his brow. “Going somewhere?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. And I don’t believe I heard you knock.”

“You forgot to close the door this time.”

“Oh.” She laid the clothes on the bed and walked back into the closet.

He’d never known a single female to own so many clothes. And the shoes—didn’t she have the standard two feet? But he’d already told her his opinion on this a couple of times and he felt it was likely to be a waste of time to repeat it.

“Where are you going?”

It was her turn to lift a brow. “Out of town.”

“For how long?”

She brushed by him to take her choice of sweaters and blouses to the bed. “Excuse me, but why would you think that’s any of your business?”

“Because we’re in the middle of a major rehab. I don’t want you coming back and whining that something didn’t turn out the way you wanted.”

“I don’t whine.” How could she possibly be attracted to someone so irritating? she wondered, and moved to her Duncan Phyfe bureau for lingerie.

“Where can you be reached?”

“I’ll call in regularly.”

“Look, MacGregor—” He had to stop himself, pull back a step. He didn’t know why the sight of her packing a few clothes sent him into a panic. He’d been wanting to get rid of her for weeks. “The kitchen cabinets are coming in next week. If you’re not here to approve the delivery—”

“I’ll be back by then.” Without a hint of embarrassment, she folded frothy-looking bras and panties into a silk lingerie bag. “If you must know, I’m just going to D.C. for a few days.”

“Something wrong with your parents?”

She softened. There was no denying the quick and sincere concern in his voice. “No, they’re fine. They don’t even know I’m coming.”

“Then why can’t it wait until the kitchen’s wrapped? It’s the biggest part of the project. If you start wanting us to tear out work—”

“You have my tapes. I’ve made it perfectly clear what I want done, and if you’ll recall, most of the kitchen remodeling is of your design.”

“Which is why I don’t want to take the heat if you change your mind.”

“I do not change my mind once I’ve made up my mind.” She slapped the silk bag into the suitcase. “Get off my back, Murdoch. I come and go as I please.”

He felt the snap in the air, all too familiar now. Slowly, he turned, shut the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Ensuring some privacy.” He studied her, objectively, he told himself. She was flushed with temper. Why that look suited her so well, why it made his blood swim, he didn’t know. It just was. She had her hand clenched at her side, as if ready to do battle. Pretty colored rings glittered on it. Her hair was loose, tumbling over the shoulders of a dark green jacket that molded her curves.

She always wore soft clothes, he mused. The kind that drove a man crazy, wanting to get under them.

And there it was, he admitted. He still wanted to get under them.

“Is this impromptu trip a way of running from that thing that went on a couple weeks ago?”

Her head angled, her voice went regally cool. “I don’t know what thing you could be referring to.”

“The thing where we nearly ended up naked on your kitchen floor?”

“That was a lapse,” she snapped, hating herself for wishing they had, just so that the tension in her gut would be gone. “We agreed.”

“We did. But was it?”

“We agreed,” she repeated stubbornly, then surprised herself by backing up when he stepped forward. “Stay away from me.”

For the first time in weeks, he felt an easy smile curve his lips. “Why? Nervous?”

“I don’t want you to touch me.”

“Who said I was going to touch you? I’m just asking a question. One thing I’ve never been able to fault you for is honesty. You always tell it like it is, so I’m asking. Was it a lapse for you?”

“I don’t know.” She nearly shouted it, then whirled around to begin hurling clothes into the suitcase. “It should have been. I’m not running away from anything. I just want to have some distance, to see my parents, to get the hell away from you before we do something stupid.”

“Okay, that’s honest. So I’ll be just as honest. I don’t mind getting away from you for a while, either. Seeing you every day is difficult.”

Her hands calmed, carefully smoothed out a wrinkled blouse. “Is it?”

“More difficult than I figured it would be. I keep imagining what it might be like if we had another lapse.”

Because she’d never been a coward or a liar, she turned back to face him. He had such a strong face, she thought. All angles and planes set off by that firm mouth and compelling eyes. “I suppose I’ve wondered the same thing.” Her lips curved upward. “What’s wrong with us?”

“Damned if I know.” This time, when he stepped forward, she stayed where she was. “Do you still not want me to touch you?”

She let out an uneven breath. “It’s the middle of the day, what could it hurt?”

“Let’s find out.” His hands slid up that cloud-soft jacket, then under it until they moved firmly up her back to draw her against him. “Eyes open this time, Jules.”

Though he hadn’t meant it literally, they watched each other as their mouths met. She saw his eyes darken, saw herself trapped in that deepening green. Experimentally she changed the angle of the kiss. Their lips touching, testing now, hesitating, and with every second that passed, her heart picked up its
rhythm.

He ached, and the taste of her had the ache centering in his gut and radiating out to his fingers. He toyed with her mouth, taking his time, though the blood was roaring in his head. Gradually, gradually, he saw her eyes cloud, her lashes flutter. And he swallowed the catchy sigh that slipped from her lips.

“I need to touch you.” Even as he said it, his hands skimmed over her breasts, cupped them, possessed. He knew he’d never felt anything more erotic than the way her nipples pressed hard against his palms through the thin silk.

A strangled moan, a flood of need. Her head fell back in a limp surrender that staggered them both. “You have to … Oh, Cullum … You’ve got such hands.”

They were on her flesh now, her blouse open, the front hook of her bra flicked apart. With her heart pounding against his palm, he forgot the men working downstairs, the job needing to be done, the consequences of what he so desperately wanted to do.

“Now.” He savaged her throat, her mouth. “Right now.”

“Yes— No.” Panic, excitement, desire, all twisted inside her. “Wait. What are we doing?” Shuddering, she pulled back, dragged the open blouse together. “We can’t, here, like this. We just can’t.”