Our Little Secret Part 6

"Gerald only works here. He has his own house."

"Don't you?" She didn't mean to sound rude, but he had to be in his midthirties. Drew didn't seem like the type who would still live at home with Dad.

"Yes, in Colorado." He looked her over, head c.o.c.ked, his mouth pulled sideways with wry amus.e.m.e.nt. "Are you afraid to stay here alone with me, Aunt Lauren?"

Not until he'd looked at her like that. Tiny p.r.i.c.kles raced over her shoulders, and her insides squirmed. Mortified, she reminded herself that she had a fiance who fulfilled all her squirming desires quite, um, adequately. Imagining Drew in that role was unacceptable.

"Why would I be afraid of my own nephew?" she asked, glad he'd tacked on that reminder of their family relations.h.i.+p.

He smiled with a lazy confidence she found unsettling. "I didn't mean to suggest you would. I thought you might be afraid of your own-" He paused while he raked her with another gaze. "-impulses."

Heat rose to her face. First Gerald and now Drew. She might as well have "Lauren is hot for Drew" written on a T-s.h.i.+rt. "You'd better hope so, because my impulse is to kick you again."

He smiled. "Feeling threatened, huh?" Before she could come up with a huffy retort, he added, "Come downstairs when you've unpacked. I'll see if I can find us something to eat."

She stood frozen in place until he was gone, desperately fighting the desire to ma.s.sacre another nail. Ah, h.e.l.l with it. She stuck her finger in her mouth and viciously bit at number four. Between her missing sister and her hot nephew, she didn't give the remaining six long odds for survival.

Drew lined up all the condiments he could find on the kitchen island next to the meat and cheese. He was slathering mayo on a slice of rye when Lauren walked in.

From the corner of his eye he could see she'd changed into jeans. He could no longer see those appealing legs, but the jeans hugged her even-more-appealing hips and b.u.t.t. Even though he had no intention of sampling the merchandise, he enjoyed looking.

Drew would never make a serious move on the sister of one of his dad's bimbos. He knew their type well. Typically, the senator's female "friends" were short on morals and long on ambition, neither of which appealed to him. He'd give up women entirely before he'd mess with the s.e.xually aggressive game-playing nymphets he'd met in Was.h.i.+ngton. Even if Meg Sutherland hadn't made off with his mother's jewelry-yet-he was sure she had some nefarious motive for marrying a man thirty-three years her senior. At the least, she was probably obsessed with power and prestige, hoping to move up to an even more politically influential lover. If Lauren was anything like her sister, her unknown fiance had his condolences.

But there was the little matter of the chemistry between them. Drew had enough experience with women to know that physical attraction went beyond the superficial t.i.ts and a.s.s consideration. After the initial "wow, what a babe" reaction, there was something more. An unexplained tingle when they touched, or a pleasant flash of heat in his groin when a particular woman smiled into his eyes. He'd felt it before, but not like this. With Lauren, the tingle had almost been a visible jolt of electricity arcing between them, and the flash was a hot rush of s.e.xual desire that aroused thoughts of crus.h.i.+ng her to his chest and kissing her breathless. He knew she felt it too. She hid it well, but he saw her green eyes widen and her breath catch when he touched her. The s.e.xual tension was intriguing as h.e.l.l. It was too bad he couldn't do anything about it.

The object of his fantasies was standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island, watching his preparations. He took a second look at her. Not green eyes-gray. Strange. He could have sworn they were green.

"Help yourself," he told her, applying mustard to a second slice of bread. "I'm not much of a cook, but I found enough to make sandwiches. I was hoping for something hot, but Gerald is Dad's secretary, not his cook, as he informed me just before he left. So this is it."

"Gerald's gone?"

The timid question made him glance up, and it happened again. As soon as his gaze met those luminous eyes he could feel the electricity spark between them. This time it came with a predatory impulse that told him how simple it would be to turn those little shocks into a bolt of lightning that could set them both on fire. Tempting, but not wise.

He kept his voice nonchalant. "It's late, Lauren. He'll be back in the morning. Have something to eat."

"I'm too worried to eat."

"Suit yourself." He wasn't about to feel guilty for having an appet.i.te.

She frowned as he piled more meat on his sandwich. "Isn't there anything else we can do?"

He flicked a quick glance at her, his mouth twitching with amus.e.m.e.nt at the thought of what else they could do. But she was talking about her sister, so he answered seriously. "You can help me look through my dad's office for some clue to what he's been involved in lately," he told her. "After I eat." I eat."

She pursed her lips but didn't say anything. He waited for another fingernail to get nibbled off, but she began twisting a lock of hair instead. He smiled and took a leisurely bite of his sandwich.

The kitchen phone rang midway through chewing his first bite. After three rings Lauren said, "Aren't you going to get that?"

He shook his head. "I don't live here. It's not for me. Let the machine get it."

She didn't seem happy with his answer. Probably the responsible, compulsive type who felt she had to respond to every request and jump at every summons. She fidgeted while the machine played its recorded message. Drew waited for the caller to hang up or leave some boring "call me when you can" request. What he heard next stopped his mouth in mid-bite.

"Drew? Are you there? Pick up if you are."

Drew lowered his sandwich. His father His father.

A female voice cut in as if someone had grabbed the phone from him, adding, "Lauren, are you there?"

For one frozen second they both stared across the kitchen, then they both scrambled for the receiver. Drew reached it first, but tilted it toward Lauren so she could listen too.

"Dad? What's going on? Where are you?"

Lauren's excited voice cut across his. "Meg! Are you okay?"

"Lauren!" the woman's voice answered joyously, before Senator Creighton chimed in. "I'm fine. We're both fine. Sorry if you were worried."

"Dad, I called the police! No one knew where you'd gone, and Gerald hasn't seen Meg since Tuesday."

Lauren's hand closed over his as she forced the phone closer to her mouth. "Meg, someone thinks I'm you, and they tried to kidnap me! What's going on?"

An odd moment of silence hung in the air, and as Lauren's concerned gaze locked with Drew's, the moment nearly took his breath away.

"I'm sorry, Lauren, really. I didn't think it would get dangerous for you. I just needed to get away from them. When they realize you're not me, they'll leave you alone."

Maybe Lauren had heard numerous apologies for idiotic adventures in the past, because she didn't seem to be moved by Meg's words. "Who are 'they'?" she demanded.

Drew wanted to know the answer to that one, too, but instead his father's voice interrupted. "We can't tell you, but we think we're out of danger for now."

"Danger? What sort of danger?" Lauren's voice was edged with panic.

"Never mind," Senator Creighton answered. "If we tell you, then you'll be in danger, too. Just stay out of it."

"Please, Lauren," Meg implored. "Let us handle it. We know what we're doing."

Lauren didn't seem rea.s.sured. Drew was pretty sure his dad could take care of himself, but he didn't want to see Lauren worry over her sister's safety for however long it took them to "handle" things. Besides, she was running out of fingernails.

He tilted the phone back toward his mouth. "You'll have to do better than that. We don't even know what or who to avoid."

"Everyone," his dad's voice replied firmly. "Just stay where you are, and we'll explain when we get back."

"When will that be?"

It didn't seem like a difficult question, but it received a lot of thought at the other end of the line. Finally, his dad's voice said, "I don't know. It could be a while. Just wait. We'll call again when we can, okay? Take care."

He sounded hurried. "Dad, hold on a second-"

"Sorry, son, gotta run. We're on a tight schedule."

"Watch Capitol Talk Capitol Talk!" Meg added quickly.

A second later the phone clicked off. Drew laid the phone back in the cradle and turned to Lauren.

"What the h.e.l.l was that?" he growled. "We still don't know what's going on."

She shook her head and twisted a lock of hair. "What's Capitol Talk Capitol Talk?"

"It's a local show that's half news, half rumor and gossip." He headed back to the island for his sandwich. He'd think better with food in his stomach.

"When is it on?"

"I don't know. I don't live here, remember? I just visit occasionally."

"Morning, afternoon, or evening, do you know that much?" Her voice was edgy with anxiety.

"Beats me. Check the TV listing."

"I'm not going to waste time tracking it down." She grabbed the phone, marched over to him and slapped it into his hand. "Ask Gerald." When he raised his eyebrows, she told him impatiently, "He seems to know everything else. I'm sure he'll know that." She pointed at the phone. "Hurry up. I don't want to miss whatever the h.e.l.l she's talking about."

He smiled and began pressing numbers. "Results oriented, aren't you? What do you do for a living?"

"Financial management." Her finger tapped rapidly on the countertop while he held the phone to his ear. He laid his free hand on top of her fingers, stilling them.

"Hi, Steven? It's Drew Creighton. Is Gerald there?" Drew said into the phone. He waited about ten seconds, aware the whole time of the way her hand had frozen beneath his. But she didn't pull away. "Gerald? We've heard from Dad and Meg." He cut off the expected barrage of questions with, "I'll tell you about it later. They said we're supposed to watch Capitol Talk Capitol Talk. When is it on?"

He could hear the surprise in Gerald's voice when he answered, "Right now. I'm watching it. Channel six."

"Thanks." Drew hung up the phone. "It's on now now," he told Lauren, finally feeling some of her anxiety. "Come on." Pulling on the hand he'd been holding, he tugged her toward his father's office, the closest room with a TV. Her warm fingers squeezed his as they rushed along, then pulled away when they entered the dark room and he turned on the TV. They stared at the silver blur of a sports car as it slid across wet pavement to the ba.s.s-heavy sound of rock music.

Lauren sighed with frustration at the commercial and stuck a fingernail between her teeth.

"Bad habit. Relax," he told her quietly. He pulled her hand away and held it gently in his. She didn't resist, just bit her lip and stared at the screen. He entwined their fingers, enjoying the softness of her hand while telling himself it was only to keep her from decimating her remaining nails.

After another minute of commercials and two minutes of the first lady speaking at a charity luncheon, Drew stiffened and felt Lauren's fingers tighten around his. Behind the female anchor, an insert photo of Senator Creighton beamed out at them.

"And in our hearts and flowers segment today," the woman said, "Capitol Hill was taken by surprise when Texas Senator and notorious ladies' man Harlan Creighton unexpectedly announced his marriage to his secretary, Megan Sutherland." She emphasized the word "secretary," as if listeners might have missed the significance of Meg's lowly position. "Dana Zamecki caught up with the happy couple at the airport shortly before they boarded a plane for the Virgin Islands." The screen flashed to a reservation desk where Meg clung to Senator Creighton's arm, both smiling self-consciously into the camera as a pretty, blonde reporter stuck a microphone in their faces.

"Senator, you've been difficult to find since the announcement of your marriage," she said.

Drew recognized the practiced chuckle his father was able to emit at will. "Well, that was the plan, Dana. And we almost snuck out of town without getting caught." He tipped his head in amused acknowledgment. "Now, don't you put this on the air until we're outta here," he said, letting a down-home Southern drawl creep into his voice. It always played well in the public opinion polls. "Newlyweds deserve a little privacy on their honeymoon." Drew nearly choked as his father looked fondly at Meg. She gazed adoringly into his eyes before they turned and headed for the VIP security line.

The picture flashed back to the anchorwoman. "We don't know Senator and Mrs. Creighton's final destination, but his office a.s.sures us it will be a short trip, due to the upcoming hearing on the senator's offsh.o.r.e drilling bill."

"Huh," Drew snuffed. "His office. Nice of them to contact us with the news. I wonder when that was?"

The picture changed to the next story, and Drew automatically hit the mute b.u.t.ton. He stared at the silent TV while his mind tried to grasp what he'd seen. Lauren hadn't moved, apparently as stunned as he was.

The ringing desk phone jolted him out of his trance. Reluctantly, he released Lauren's hand and picked it up, knowing who it would be. "We saw it," he said in greeting.

"That was weird!" Gerald p.r.o.nounced.

"In what way?" Drew had his own opinion, but no one had spent more time with Harlan Creighton over the past ten years than his personal secretary.

"They don't act like that. At least, not in front of me. The senator never never gets that goofy expression on his face. And Megan was gets that goofy expression on his face. And Megan was hanging hanging on him, and practically on him, and practically dripping dripping syrup all over him. You don't know her, Andrew, but let me tell you, Megan is syrup all over him. You don't know her, Andrew, but let me tell you, Megan is way way cooler than that. That was Megan being played by Marilyn Monroe. Badly." cooler than that. That was Megan being played by Marilyn Monroe. Badly."

Drew smiled. "Thanks, Gerald." He hung up and looked at Lauren's shocked expression. "Well?"

She shook her head. "What happened to all that stuff about being in danger? And Meg never acted so silly about a man in her life. s.e.xy and confident, but not silly. Something's up." She frowned. "What about your dad?"

"That seems to be the consensus. I thought I'd seen him in every possible mood, but I've never seen that that Harlan Creighton before." Harlan Creighton before."

Lauren twirled a string of hair around her finger, another habit he'd noticed her resort to whenever she thought about her sister. "But how would he act if he fell in love? Maybe he's just head-over-heels in love."

Drew ran a hand through his hair. His parents must have been in love at one time, but not in his memory, and he had no idea how his father would act if he fell in love again. In l.u.s.t, yes. That happened frequently. But in love? "I don't know, maybe that's exactly how they'd act if they fell in love. Maybe they'd be as surprised by it as we are." He found it hard to believe, but he didn't have a better answer at the moment.

Lauren screwed up her face in an effort to imagine that scenario. "Maybe," she said, doubt obvious in her voice. She glanced sideways from under lowered lashes. "Would falling in love make you act silly?"

He smiled. "Bad word choice-men don't act silly silly. Although I couldn't say for sure. I've never loved anyone enough to want to spend the rest of my life with her. It sounds confining." His gaze drifted down to her left hand. How had he held that hand and noticed its warmth and softness, without ever feeling her ring? "But you must have," he said, nodding at her hand. "Fallen in love that much, I mean. You know, with old what's-his-name. How does it make you feel?" He hoped his relaxed stance reflected courteous interest rather than the strange tension that gripped him. Despite knowing how dangerous this line of thinking was, his question had nothing to do with his father and her sister.

"Oh." She held her left hand in her right and looked at the ring, as if she'd forgotten it was there. She caressed it thoughtfully. "I felt happy, I guess. I mean, I feel happy." She corrected her tenses, but must have realized how tentative that sounded. She smiled at him. "Satisfied and happy. Contented," she added more firmly, apparently still searching for the right term. She shrugged helplessly. "Our relations.h.i.+p hit a point where we knew it needed to go somewhere. So we took the next step. It just felt right."

Past tense again, but he didn't point it out. He watched her closely. "That sounds... nice." It sounded like a huge mistake, but he couldn't say that when she looked so vulnerable. He forced a smile in return. "So, no acting silly, eh?"

She straightened. "Well, that's me. Practical through and through. I guess I'm not much of a romantic." She tried to sound light-hearted, but seemed nervous beneath the surface. Her hands went in her pockets, and the ring disappeared from sight.

Now, that was flat-out wrong. She was either covering up her emotions, or she really didn't know she had them. Lauren was getting more intriguing by the minute.

"Speaking of romance and stuff, I really should call Jeff. My fiance," she explained unnecessarily.

"I remember."

"I was supposed to call at eight-fifteen, and it's nearly eight thirty. He'll be wondering what happened to me."

G.o.d, what an uptight p.r.i.c.k. "Sure, go ahead. You can use the phone in here. I'll go finish my sandwich." He clicked the desk lamp on and turned off the soundless flickering of the TV. "Maybe you'll feel more like eating after you've talked to Jeff."

They exchanged overly sincere smiles as he left, closing the wood paneled double doors behind him.

Maybe talking to the anonymous Jeff would calm her nerves. Although he didn't know how that was possible. He thought a relations.h.i.+p that bland and satisfying satisfying would give him a stomach ache. He hoped it gave Jeff one. would give him a stomach ache. He hoped it gave Jeff one.

CHAPTER Four.

"Where have you been? I've been worried sick! You were supposed to call fifteen minutes ago. Were you delayed in traffic coming back from Virginia? I've heard the D.C. traffic can be murder."

Lauren scrunched her eyes shut and put a hand to her forehead. She knew he'd be like this, and she was getting tired of dealing with his picky rules just because she hadn't called at eight fifteen on the dot.