Our Little Secret (12 page)

“You’re turning in?” he repeated, half amused, half disappointed.

She nodded, hands feeling for the dresser behind her. “Early.”

“It’s only nine o’clock.”

She took a couple steps sideways. “I brought some work with me. In my briefcase,” she added.

“Okay.” He knew what the problem was, but he also knew she had to figure out the answer for herself.

“I really should fax it in by tomorrow, so I’ll get started on it. I mean, I’ll finish it.” Words were coming faster now, and she seemed to realize how flustered she sounded. “Good night,” she said quickly, and fled.

Drew listened as her footsteps hurried down the hall, encouraged by what had just happened. The first time he’d touched her hair, she’d kicked him soundly. The second time, she’d turned into a stumbling, babbling simpleton. He’d felt enough energy arcing between them to know exactly what her panic meant. Lauren was seriously conflicted.

He hoped she figured it out soon because next time he wasn’t going to let her run away.

Lauren slammed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard. Damn, she’d handled that one like a silly freshman schoolgirl with a crush on a senior.

If she was lucky he’d think she was incredibly immature. But Drew wasn’t naive and he probably knew the truth, that proximity to him made her heart race and that his touch sent tiny shocks through her body. Every last one of them shot toward her lower abdomen where they sizzled and popped and sent off so much heat she thought she must be glowing. What the hell was wrong with her?

Men didn’t affect Lauren this way. God knew, Jeff certainly didn’t. When Drew had run his hand across her fingers she’d felt so feverish she’d actually thought she was coming down with something. Then he’d pulled her against that broad chest, so close to his amazingly expressive mouth that she felt his breath on her hair, and she’d nearly groaned with desire and molded herself against him.

Lauren slid down the door and sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? She was acting like an idiot. A silly, emotional—she nearly gasped at the sudden realization—she was acting like Meg!

Well, damn it, she had a good excuse. Her nerves were frazzled. She had repressed her worry about her sister’s marriage, then stepped into the chaos of Meg’s life, complete with compromising photos and a near-abduction. And a sexy as hell nephew.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. She needed to regain her emotional stability. A warm bath and a good night’s sleep would put things in perspective. By morning Drew Creighton would probably look as ordinary as any man, and be as easy to resist.

Her theory was smashed to pieces as soon as she entered the kitchen the following morning. Gerald sat at the table eating cereal, but her smile skidded right past him and stopped dead.

Shirtless and barefoot, Drew lounged in a kitchen chair as he sorted through a pile of mail, one jean-clad leg propped on the chair beside him. A mesh of dark hair sprinkled his upper chest, but did nothing to hide the well-defined muscles. Even his sleep-tousled hair reminded her that he’d just stepped out of bed and into those snug jeans, probably because they were handy and he’d been sleeping in nothing at all.

Now, there was a thought to make her pause.

Her gaze traveled back over his chest. Skiing and mountain climbing, huh? If this got out, it could put the health clubs out of business.

Lauren caught Gerald’s curious look and did her
best to channel her sudden hunger into a desire for food. “Hi!” She tried to sound perky and oblivious to finding a half-naked hunk in the kitchen. “What’s for breakfast?”

Gerald used his spoon to point at the kitchen counter. “Cereal, muffins, bagels, and fresh fruit. Coffee and tea next to the fridge.”

“Sounds good. No wonder you eat here.”

“I’m usually here before six and stay until nine at night. You bet I eat here.” He flashed a smile.

She prepared a bowl of cereal topped with strawberries and blueberries, conscious of Drew’s gaze on her the whole time. Daring a glance from under her lashes, she saw that the mail had been set aside and she had his full attention, he watched every move she made, his elbows propped on chair arms and hands entwined lightly over his bare abdomen.

Lauren’s stomach fluttered, which only made her annoyed—with herself and with him. The longer he watched, the more irritated she became.

He waited to speak until she was at the table. “I’ve been thinking,” he announced.

She raised her eyes to his, making sure to skim right past his impressive chest. “Was it difficult?”

Genuine amusement flashed in his eyes. Damn, he wasn’t the least bit offended. How was she going to keep this man at a safe distance?

“I
am
out of practice,” Drew agreed. “A life spent chasing after snow bunnies doesn’t lend itself to deep thinking.”

Lauren nodded. “I imagine it’s strenuous at that altitude.”

“Exactly.”

He was toying with her. She’d tried not to judge his lax lifestyle, but calling him a ski bum had probably given her away. If she was that easy to read, she was in big trouble.

“Actually, I was thinking about you.”

For one second her spoon froze over the cereal bowl before she willed it to scoop up a strawberry, as casually as if her heart hadn’t just tripped over itself. “How nice for you.”

He grinned, and she wondered if sarcastic defiance had been the wrong move. He seemed to love it every time she rose to his challenge.

Gerald stopped eating, looking between them with a puzzled expression. “Did you two have a fight after I left last night?”

Drew’s eyes never left hers. “Of course not,” he assured Gerald. “I adore my aunt Lauren.”

She gave him a tight smile. She wasn’t going to touch that one. Instead, she answered Gerald. “I spent several productive hours in my room last night, catching up on my work.” It was a blatant lie. She’d barely been able to concentrate on the fashion magazine she’d bought at the airport, much less the weighty budget reports in her briefcase. “But I’m curious to hear what thoughts my nephew has labored over.”

Drew tilted his chair onto the back legs, and cocked his head thoughtfully, as if he’d given his idea long and careful consideration. “We need to cut your hair,” he said.

She didn’t deliberate nearly as long over her response. “I hope you didn’t waste too much time thinking about my hair, because I like it the way it is.” Actually, Jeff liked it that way, long enough to wear
down during the day, in a pony tail for playing tennis, or in a twist for dining out. Three different looks from one cut—a practical hairstyle.

“The way you like it isn’t important. It has to look exactly like your sister’s. Gerald said hers is now shorter than yours.”

“And layered,” Gerald reminded him. “With wispy bangs.”

Drew nodded. “Can’t forget the wispy bangs.”

She chewed longer than necessary, stalling. “And why would I want my hair to look exactly like Meg’s?” she finally asked, feigning disinterest, even though she was afraid she was not going to like the answer.

“So you can pretend to be her tonight when we attend the party at the Watergate Hotel.”

She lowered her spoon and gave him a suspicious look. “When we what?”

“It’s a fundraiser. There’s an invitation on my dad’s desk, and he never misses an opportunity to work his contacts. Does he?” Drew turned to Gerald for confirmation.

“That’s true. He planned to go.”

“And since he was unexpectedly called out of town, his son is filling in for him, and escorting his father’s new wife.”

“He wasn’t called out of town. He just told all of Washington he’s on his honeymoon.”

“He came back,” Drew told her, apparently inventing a new scenario. “Because of an important issue that just came up. Now he’s tied up in meetings with the big money men back in Texas, and Meg—that’s you—is stranded in Washington, with no escort to the
party. Fortunately, her considerate new stepson is visiting and would love to accompany her.”

Lauren didn’t like it. There would be too many questions. Besides, she wouldn’t recognize anyone, and wouldn’t know what was expected of her. “Why?”

“Why not? To see what happens.” Drew reached for his coffee cup, cradling it on his flat stomach. “To see how people react to this marriage, or whether someone tries to get you alone and steer you away from the party. We might learn something. More than we would sitting here, anyway.”

She frowned. “You mean you want to use me as bait.”

“You’d be perfectly safe. As your escort, I’ll be close by you all night.”

She refused to indulge the appealing mental image of Drew dancing her across a crowded ballroom and ignored the flush that crept to her cheeks. “No.”

Gerald’s mouth turned up in a smug, I-told-you-so smile. Drew must have run this idea by him earlier with the same result.

Drew seemed mildly irritated, but she couldn’t tell if it was with her or Gerald. “Why not?”

“Because it’s stupid,” she told him. Gerald bit his lip and raised his coffee cup in front of his spreading grin. “Did you forget someone tried to kidnap me?”

“We were taken by surprise. They’ve lost that advantage now.”

“Not good enough. Besides, a prominent senator doesn’t suddenly disappear on his honeymoon, then rush back to town a day later without causing a lot of questions. And we don’t know how to answer them.
We’ll cause so much of a stir we won’t know what’s gossip and what’s important.” She met his frown and tilted her chin up stubbornly. “And I think Jeff is right. We need to be sensible and let the authorities deal with whatever is going on.”

Gerald lowered his coffee. “Okay, tell. Who is this Jeff?”

“Some guy she knows,” Drew said with a dismissive wave.

“My fiancé!” Lauren held her left hand up and wiggled her ring finger significantly to display the modest diamond.

Gerald rolled his eyes. “Oh, him.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t even know him.”

“Meg told me about him. Mr. Perfect with a stick up his ass. Sounds dull to me. But whatever works for you, honey.”

Drew choked on a laugh and she turned her glare on him. “Jeff is a responsible person who wants what’s best for me. Maybe you two find common sense funny, but I intend to follow his sound advice. Meg and Harlan asked us to stay out of whatever is going on. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“You’re going to sit here and wait while your sister has armed kidnappers looking for her and God knows what else?”

Lauren pressed her lips into a firm line. “Yes. Or maybe I’ll fly home and wait there. With
Jeff.
”

Drew assessed her as he sipped his coffee. “I thought you might be a little more… adventurous. My mistake.”

His disappointment in her cut deeply. She wanted
to object that there was nothing wrong with being sensible and that she could be every bit as adventurous as the next girl, when adventure was called for. The words actually formed in her mind, but it was Jeff’s voice saying them.

In the disgruntled silence the phone sounded louder than usual. Lauren stiffened, remembering the last call from Meg and Harlan, and slid an expectant look at Gerald.

He shrugged and dug into his cereal. “I’m the senator’s personal assistant, not his butler. That’s the house line. Besides, it’s Saturday. I’m off.”

Her gaze shifted to Drew. He had tensed, also.

“I’ll get it,” she volunteered. Lauren rushed across the kitchen. If it was Meg, she intended to get a lot more information from her sister than their four-way conversation had imparted last time.

“Senator Creighton’s residence.”

A relieved gasp sounded on the other end and a male voice with an eastern European accent said, “Meg! I am so glad I found you! I’ve been calling everywhere!”

“I’m sorry, but you didn’t. I—”

He cut her off. “There’s no time for old arguments, darling. We are both being watched. Meg, you are in grave danger. More than you realize. I must talk to you.”

Lauren’s intended correction died on her lips. Information was information. Hesitantly, she asked, “What do you know?”

“Not on the phone. You must come to the embassy tonight.”

The man sounded like he knew Meg well, but she
had no idea what embassy he was talking about and didn’t know how to ask without giving herself away. “I don’t think I can.”

“You must!” Urgency made his words more clipped, his accent more pronounced. Something Slavic? “There is a party. An invitation has already been delivered to Senator Creighton. Please, Meg, whatever unresolved issues we have, you must trust me. I fear for your life. There are things you don’t know, things that could kill you!”

Blood drained from Lauren’s face and hands, making her shiver. “Where will I find you?”

“The usual place.”

Oh, good, that was helpful. “I don’t recall—”

“Be there, darling. I’ll see you then.” The click that ended his call was abrupt. She laid the phone on its base and turned around.

Both men were staring at her.

She cleared her throat. “Gerald, was there also an invitation to some embassy function tonight?”