The Winning Hand by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

out of her mouth was the single thought that had revolved in her muddled brain since her call to Boston.
    “Caine MacGregor is your uncle.”
    “Yes, he is.”
    “He was attorney general of the United States.”
    “Yes.” Gently Mac lifted Darcy’s hand and placed the rose stem in it. “He was.”
    “Alan MacGregor was president.”
    “You know, I heard that somewhere. Are you going to let me in?”
    “Oh. Yes. But your uncle, he was
president
,” she said again, slowly, as if she’d been misunderstood. “For eight years.”
    “You pass the history quiz.” Mac closed the door behind him and took a good long study of her. Awarm hum of approval moved through his blood. “You look fabulous.”
    “I—really?” Distracted not only by the compliment, but the delivery, she glanced down. “I would never have chosen this,” she began, running a hand over the copper-hued skirt of a dress that was shorter, snugger and certainly more daring than anything in her previous wardrobe. “Myra at the boutique, the eveningwear boutique downstairs, picked it out. She said I belonged in jewel colors.”
    “Myra has an excellent eye.” And likely deserved a raise, he thought, making a circling motion with his finger. “Turn around.”
    “Turn—” Her laugh was both pleased and self-conscious as she executed a slow twirl.
    A big raise, Mac decided as the flippy little skirt danced around surprisingly delightful legs. “They’re not there.”
    “What?” Her hand fluttered to the dipping bodice, checking. “What isn’t there?”
    “Wings. I expected to see little fairy wings.”
    Flustered, she laughed again. “The way this day has gone, I wouldn’t be surprised to see them myself.”
    “Why don’t we have a drink before we go to dinner, and you can tell me how the day’s gone?”
    He walked to the bar to take a bottle of champagne out of the minifridge. She loved to watch him move. It was the animal grace she’d only read about, sleek and confident. And again, slightly dangerous. But to see it … She let out a little sigh. It was so much better than just imagining.
    “Charles cut my hair,” she began, thrilling to the celebratory sound of the cork popping.
    “Charles?”
    “In your salon?”
    “Ah, that Charles.” Mac selected two flutes from the glass shelves and poured. “The customers tremble, but always go back to Charles.”
    “I thought he was going to boot me out when he saw what I’d done.” She gave her short locks a tug. “But he took pity on me. Charles has definite opinions.”
    Mac skimmed his gaze over her hair, then down until his eyes met hers. “I’d say in your case he saw the wings.”
    “I’m only to pick up scissors to cut paper from now on.” Her eyes danced as she accepted the glass Mac offered. “Or pay the consequences. And, if I bite my nails, I’ll be punished. I was afraid to ask him how. Oh, this is wonderful,” she murmured after a sip. Closing her eyes, she sipped again. “Why would anyone drink anything else?”
    The pure sensual pleasure on her face had the hum in his blood quickening. A babe in the woods, he reminded himself. It seemed wiser all around to keep the bar between them. “What else did you do?”
    “Oh, the salon took forever. Charles kept finding other things he said were absolutely essential. I had a pedicure.” Humor danced into her eyes again. “I had no idea how wonderful it is to have your feet rubbed. Sheila put paraffin on my feet. Can you imagine? My hands, too. Feel.”
    He took the hand she held out, in all innocence. It was small and narrow, the skin as smooth as a child’s. He had to check the urge to nibble. “Very nice.”
    “Isn’t it?” Delighted with herself, Darcy smiled and stroked a finger over the back of her hand. “Charles said I have to have a full body loofah and some sort of mud bath, and … I can’t even remember. He wrote it all down and sent me to Alice at the spa. She makes the appointments. I have to