Our Little Secret (2 page)

The man actually laughed, and Lauren noted with irritation that he looked good doing it. “Gerald’s never wrong.”

If he hadn’t sounded so arrogant about it, she’d have been more sympathetic. Maybe he thought she was easily intimidated. She stepped toward him, right up to the creamy-beige sweater, stuck her face close to his and said in slow, distinct words, “I’m not Meg. Gerald’s wrong.”

She was close enough to smell him, a clean, open-air smell, like pine trees and sunshine. She could even feel the heat from his body. Or maybe it was hers. Someone was overheating.

He held her gaze for several seconds, then yelled, “Gerald!” loud enough to make her flinch.

Footsteps pounded down a staircase and vibrated through the gleaming floorboards until a young man appeared at the other end of the spacious foyer. He pushed wire-rimmed glasses back up his nose and put a hand over his tailored vest as he fought to catch his breath. “What?”

The man lifted a hand as if he were presenting Lauren for an introduction. “Well? Is this her?”

“Megan!” the young man cried happily.

Lauren felt her frown deepen and she spoke to Gerald in carefully enunciated words. “I am not Meg.”

“Give it up, lady,” her accuser began, but Gerald interrupted.

“Wait, wait, Andrew,” he said, staring at Lauren intently while flapping a hand at his handsome but pushy friend. Stepping closer, Gerald peered at her face, then made a slow circle around her. Lauren stood still, shifting her eyes cautiously to follow him. He was small, but he had an air of authority and she knew his judgment was going to carry weight.

He finally spoke, using one arm to support his elbow as he tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “She does look like Megan, but the hair is too long.”

“Too long?” Lauren blurted in disbelief. “If anything, mine is shorter. Do you even know Meg? Her hair is halfway down her back!”

“She cut it two days ago,” Gerald informed her with a superior air, as if she should have known.

Lauren hesitated. She hadn’t actually seen her sister in several months. “She did?”

He nodded, an arrogant sort of affirmation that said he knew many things about Meg that she obviously didn’t. “Megan now has a very stylish feathered cut that just brushes the top of the collar, with a few wispy bangs.” His fingers sketched invisible locks on his own forehead in demonstration. “Plain, but striking, if you have the right sort of face. Which, of course, our Meg does. She—”

The man he’d called Andrew wasn’t listening to the rest of the fashion commentary. “It could be a wig,” he suggested. Before Lauren could duck, he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair.

“Hey, back off!” She instinctively kicked him in the shin.

“Ow!” Bending his knee, he grabbed his throbbing leg. “Jesus, lady, I wasn’t attacking you.”

“You grabbed me,” she said, then tacked on, “twice,” in case he thought she had overlooked the way he’d pulled her in the door. In fact, the way he’d reached out and pulled her toward him had been quite memorable.

While they glared suspiciously at each other, Gerald mused, “No, that’s definitely not Megan. She had her hair layered for fullness. She would never let anyone style it that way, all straight and flat and…” He stopped as Lauren shot an annoyed glance his way. “So you must be Meg’s sister, Lauren,” he concluded.

“Ha! Finally!” Lauren flung her hand toward Gerald in an exasperated gesture as she turned to the man who, gorgeous or not, had the audacity to imply that she was a liar. “See?”

“Okay, okay.” He tested the ability of his right leg to hold his weight. It looked sturdy enough to Lauren, so he’d better not be expecting an apology. “You’re not Meg. I was wrong. Not that it wasn’t a logical mistake,” he added in an undertone.

She crossed her arms and sniffed her dissatisfaction.

“Probably cracked my shin bone,” he muttered, taking a few limping steps to enhance his performance.

She watched, unmoved. His leg looked perfectly fine to her. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Drew Creighton,” he said absently, concentrating on his wounded leg. The big baby. With a slight sneer, he added, “Nice to meet you, Aunt Lauren.”

Time shuddered to a halt. Lauren felt her mouth open stupidly. “What?”

She had his attention again, and his slow grin was
wicked with satisfaction. “I’m Senator Creighton’s son. Which makes me your sister’s new stepson. And, it seems, your nephew. Aren’t blended families fun?”

What had Meg done to her? Engaged women might be allowed to have semi-sexual feelings about other men, but aunts definitely weren’t supposed to have those feelings about their nephews. Lauren was in big trouble here. Besides, Drew was too old to be her nephew. He had to be about thirty-five or -six, which would make him no more than five years older than she was. Her sister hadn’t mentioned any grown children from the senator’s first marriage. She cleared her throat and asked hesitantly, “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”

He seemed to enjoy that one even more. “Yes, your newly acquired niece, Miranda, is forty years old. Congratulations.”

He probably thought Miranda’s age was the reason for her stunned expression. In actuality, she was still grappling with the idea that the man who had stirred her lust at first sight was her nephew, albeit her not-so-nice nephew.

A related thought occurred to her. Her sister had always preferred the studly types. If Drew’s father still looked this virile in person, she might be forced to rethink Meg’s impulsive marriage: The attraction could be based on more than money.

While Lauren recovered, Gerald retrieved her luggage from the porch and coaxed her out of her coat. She looked at him over her shoulder as he hung it in the front closet, cautiously assessing the smaller man. He didn’t look anything like Drew, but you never knew. “Are we related, too?”

Drew snorted back laughter, but Gerald answered her seriously. “Not at all. I’m the senator’s personal secretary. A man of Senator Creighton’s means has many business interests outside the Senate. Meg is his assistant for all that political stuff.” He dismissed the United States Senate with a wave of his hand. “Come in and sit down, Miss Sutherland. Perhaps you can help us determine the whereabouts of your sister.”

Lauren fought against a familiar, sinking feeling. Her irresponsible sister had stood her up—why should she be surprised? This was exactly what she hated about Meg, and exactly why she was with a dependable, sensible man like Jeff. Meg could stand to adopt a few of his values.

“Call me Lauren,” she murmured, trailing Gerald into the living room. She could feel Drew’s presence behind her. All the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as if carrying a magnetic charge pulling them in Drew’s direction. She tried to ignore him as she addressed Gerald. “What did you mean about determining her whereabouts? Where is Meg?”

“Pay no attention to Gerald, he worries too much,” Drew said as he settled onto a yellow sofa. The silk brocade upholstery was patterned with pale green flowers, and the contrast with his plain sweater and jeans only made him look more masculine. Lauren didn’t realize she was staring until she caught his lazy smile. She quickly looked away.

Gerald clasped his hands, apparently too nervous to sit. “Meg stopped by the house two days ago on her way to the bank. No one’s heard from her since.” Concern was evident in his voice. Gerald obviously considered Meg a friend, and he was worried about
her. Lauren wondered if she should be worried, too.

Drew gave a soft snort. “They haven’t heard from her with good reason. Either my father is keeping his new bride occupied, which I’ll admit is possible, or she’s already ditched him in favor of his assets, and she’s long gone.” When Lauren frowned at him he pointed toward the matching sofa across from his. “Have a seat. I can’t wait to hear what excuses you come up with for Meg’s behavior.”

She eased onto the edge of the sofa, knees together, purse tucked under her arm, the antithesis of Drew’s relaxed sprawl. Angling her body away from him and toward Gerald, she tried to allay his fears. “I don’t know why you haven’t heard from Meg. I have. She called around noon the day before yesterday to say she’d reserved a plane ticket for me, and begged me to come. She knew I had to use my vacation time for the trip, so I’m sure she wouldn’t just”—she waved a hand and quoted him—“disappear. She knows I can’t stay here long. You’ll see, she’ll be back soon. She must be with Senator Creighton.” She slid a dark look at Drew as she quoted him again. “Who is keeping her occupied.”

“Maybe,” Gerald mused. Lauren didn’t like how grudgingly he said it. “We called his Senate office, but he wasn’t available. Committee meetings or something. We’re waiting for him to call back.”

“Stingy with vacation time, are you? Even to celebrate your sister’s marriage.”

She glared at Drew, annoyed that he’d sorted out the one fact that made her sound prissy and rigid. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my fiancé and I have resort reservations that I made months in advance.”

God, she
did
sound rigid.
And
prissy.

“Oh, I know what her reason was.”

“You do?” She and Gerald said it together.

“It’s obvious.” He scanned Lauren from her turtleneck sweater to her sensible low-heeled shoes. “Do you and your sister always dress alike, some cute little twin thing?”

“We’re not six years old,” Lauren snapped.

“So why did you dress exactly like her today?”

Had she? Lauren recalled his description of Meg’s coat and scarf, the reason for the mistaken identity at the front door. She hesitated, then admitted, “I didn’t know Meg owned the same coat and scarf. She Fed-Exed these to me. They were a gift, and she said if she knew exactly what I was wearing it would be easier to spot me at the airport.” It did sound weird, now that she said it out loud. They just didn’t know that weird behavior was the norm for her sister. As far as weird went, sending Lauren a new coat and scarf for her trip to Washington didn’t stand out.

“But she didn’t pick you up at the airport,” Drew objected.

“She sent a limo instead because she’d been delayed.”

“Uh-huh. And why didn’t she just ask you what you’d be wearing? Wouldn’t that be easier than playing identical dress-up games?”

Damn, his logic was even better than Jeff’s, who had impeccable reasoning skills. It didn’t seem to be puzzling Drew, though. “If you’re so smart, you tell me why she did it.”

Drew made himself comfortable first, arms crossed and long legs stretched beneath the coffee table. It was the sort of careless confidence she might have found
sexy in someone less obnoxious. “I don’t think Meg sent you an identical coat and scarf. I think she sent you her own.”

Lauren recognized the truth as soon as he said it. She recalled noticing the faint scent of Meg’s perfume on both items. But she wasn’t about to admit anything to this stranger. “So what?”

“So, she set you up. You were a decoy.”

“What? That’s ridiculous.” Even as she denied it, Lauren was aware that was exactly how it sounded.

He didn’t respond, just picked a piece of fuzz off his sweater while she thought about it. He was right, damn it. Meg had arranged for Lauren to arrive at the house looking exactly like her sister, while she was somewhere else.

“She even cut her hair recently,” Drew reminded her. “She might have gone too short, but it made her look enough like you to fool Gerald at first, and no one is better than Gerald at noticing those sorts of details.”

“That’s right,” Gerald agreed without a trace of false humility.

Double damn. What was going on here? Lauren lifted a hand to her mouth and nearly started on a fourth nail before catching herself. She really needed to break the habit, but dealing with the screw-ups in her sister’s life made it difficult. Grabbing a lock of hair instead, she twirled it around her finger as she glanced at Gerald. He looked worried—no help there. Drew watched her impassively. “She must have had a good reason,” Lauren insisted finally.

At least, she’d
better
have.

“Of course she did,” Drew told her. She was
beginning to hate his certainty about the whole confusing situation. “She wanted whoever was watching to think she hadn’t left town. Anyone who saw you would think you were Meg.”

It made sense, and she nearly put a knot in her tortured strand of hair at the implication. “Who would be watching Meg?”

“The press. My father’s marriage would be big news.”

She’d forgotten about that. It would explain Meg’s ruse. If the press got wind of the biggest playboy in politics getting married, to his much-younger secretary at that, it would be all over the news.

But it wasn’t. She tipped her head toward the front window and the empty lawn outside. “If the reporters were supposed to be watching for Meg—for me—why aren’t they here?”

He shrugged. “Maybe you were Meg’s ace in the hole and she didn’t need you. She got away without the press getting a whiff of it. But if she hadn’t, you would have been here to divert their attention.” Drew suddenly dropped his placid pose and leaned forward, his gaze intense. “Your sister used you, Lauren. Convinced you to take off work and messed up your perfectly organized vacation schedule, just so she could avoid the press for a few days. How do you feel about that?”

Pissed as hell, but not about to let him know it. Her infuriating nephew had already identified her weak spot, her obsessively regulated life, and it irritated her more than she wanted to admit. “Why do you hate Meg? You don’t even know her.”

Drew’s expression hardened. “I don’t have to know
her; I’ve met her type before. This town is full of them.”

“Really? What type is that? Bright, efficient, and hard working? Yes, those are pretty suspicious qualities.”

His lip quirked into a cynical smile that she tried not to think of as sensuous. “Oh, I don’t doubt she’s bright—they usually are. She’s also young, pretty, and ambitious enough to land a top job in a Senate office. Then a few short months later she marries her boss, a wealthy senator thirty-three years her senior.” Drew affected an innocent look. “Gosh, you don’t think that looks suspicious, do you?”