The MacGregor Grooms Read Online Free PDF

table centered on the patio, noted the thick gardening book set there and open to instructions on the planting of annuals, then walked over to pick up the pansies that had gone flying.
    “You can’t just walk into someone’s house.”
    “Yes, you can.” He crouched beside her, offered the plants. “When the door’s unlocked. I told you I was coming by.”
    He smelled of soap, she thought fleetingly, and he moved like a big, sleek leopard. “You certainly did not.”
    “Last night. You ought to plant these in a sweep instead of a line, and crowd them some. More pizzazz.” With his eyes narrowed, he took her chin, turned her head to the left. “I said I wanted to sketch your face.”
    She jerked free, as irritated with his touch as with his critique of her novice gardening attempts. “I don’t remember anything about that.”
    “When we were dancing. It’s a nice light out here. This’ll be fine.” He rose to get his pad. “Just keep gardening if you want.”
    When they were dancing? Layna sat back on her heels and tried to think. She couldn’t remember anything that happened when they were dancing except that she’d gone momentarily insane.
    Now he was sitting there, dwarfing the curvy little patio chair, his long legs kicked out and a pencil in his hand.
    “You don’t have to pose,” he told her, shooting her a smile that went straight to her gut. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
    It would be like ignoring a big, sleek panther crouched in the drawing room, she thought. “I can’t work while you’re staring at me. I want to get these planted. They’re calling for some rain this afternoon.”
    “You don’t have more than a dozen left, so take a break.” He nudged the other chair away from the table with his foot. “Sit down and talk to me.”
    She got to her feet, dragging at her gloves. “Didn’t we establish that we have nothing to say to each other?”
    “Did we?” He knew how to charm a reluctant model, and used his smile ruthlessly. “You like music. So do I. Let’s talk music. Chopin suits your style.”
    She shoved the gloves into the pocket of her apron. “I suppose wailing bagpipes suit yours.”
    He cocked a brow. “You have something against bagpipes?”
    She only huffed out a breath, then gave in enough to sit. “Look, D.C., I don’t mean to be rude, but—”
    “You’d never be rude unless you meant to. You’re too well bred. Nice smile,” he commented, drawing quickly as he spoke. “Too bad you’re so stingy with it.”
    “I’m not—when I like someone.”
    He only grinned. “See, you meant to be rude.”
    She couldn’t help it. She laughed. But the laughter ended on a stutter of annoyance when he leaned over and plucked off her hat.
    “It’s shading your eyes,” he said as he dropped it on the table.
    “That was the idea.” Puzzling over him, she leaned back. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but in my opinion you and I didn’t hit it off in any particular fashion last night.”
    “So?”
    She opened her mouth, shut it again. Ridiculous, she told herself, to feel insulted because he agreed with her. “So, what are you doing here, sketching me?”
    “I like your face. It’s strong, all-female. Sexy eyes and classy bones. I don’t have to be attracted to you on a personal level to want to draw you.”
    “I appreciate your honesty,” she said coldly.
    “No, you don’t. It ticked you off.” He’d flipped over a page and started a fresh study. “That’s female, too. Why get irked because we agree we’re not each other’s type? It doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful. You are. Turn your head to the left a little. You need to tuck your hair back.”
    He leaned forward to take care of it himself, skimming his fingers over her cheek. As he did, bothof them went very still.
    Her heart fluttered in her chest, continued to dance no matter how firmly she told herself it was a foolish, knee-jerk reaction. The gilded, filtered sunlight was suddenly too hot.