Our Little Secret Part 11

Lauren wasn't sure she liked the way their case had been pa.s.sed around. "The Secret Service hasn't even talked to us about what happened."

Drew frowned. "Rasmussen said they have his report, and they'll contact us when they know something."

She glanced at Gerald, who seemed more concerned with supervising Steven's every snip than he was about the Secret Service. Fine. If he wasn't concerned, she wasn't either. Worrying about Callista Featherstone was enough to keep her stomach in knots.

Drew's thoughts might still be on the investigation, but she doubted it. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, watching with interest as her new hair style evolved.

Lauren s.h.i.+fted uneasily under his unwavering gaze. She adjusted her robe, uncrossed her legs, re-crossed them.

"Hold still," Steven ordered.

She tried, but ended up swinging her foot to a nervous beat. With three men hovering around, she felt like the main exhibit at a museum. Gerald had to be there to advise Steven, but Drew didn't.

"Don't you have something to do?" she asked him.

"Me? No."

She caught Gerald's eye with a pleading look. He glanced at Drew and said, "Ladies only, get lost."

Behind her, Steven muttered something and snipped perilously close to her neck.

Drew raised an eyebrow, but Gerald had already turned his back. Lauren smiled sweetly and said, "'Bye."

"Just be ready by seven," Drew told her, and left.

She threw a grateful smile at Gerald. "Thanks."

"The big guy makes you nervous, huh?"

"Shut up, Gerald," Steven said mildly as he created wispy bangs with his razor. "And if you stereotype me one more time you're sleeping in the garage."

Gerald grinned and winked at Lauren. "Isn't he adorable?"

She wasn't sure if he meant Steven or Drew.

Steven's skills were magical, and Lauren loved the way her new hairstyle feathered down to swing just below the line of her chin.

The dress was more than magic. Her mind skidded away from the word s.e.xy, but she was quite sure she'd never looked this good in her life. The fake red fingernails she'd applied were the finis.h.i.+ng touch. If Meg felt this way about herself all the time, Lauren might have to consider investing in a few new dresses.

Lingerie, too. There was no getting around the effect the skimpy panties and lacy elastic garter straps had on her att.i.tude, even concealed beneath the long dress. Posing in front of the mirror so she could admire the way the tight bodice persuaded her average-sized b.r.e.a.s.t.s to scrunch into rounded mounds with honest-to-G.o.d cleavage, Lauren felt a surge of confidence.

It dissipated into quivering shyness as soon as she saw Drew.

He was as stunning as she'd expected in his tuxedo. He greeted her at the foot of the stairs with a warm gaze that lingered in all the right places, and a low, sensual, "Very nice."

He reached for her hand as she descended the final tread, drawing her as close as he would for a dance. Too close for comfort. Even in heels she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes, and as soon as she did, his gaze slid down to her mouth, then lower to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her pounding heart was probably adding significant tremors to her cleavage.

His sparkling blue gaze returned to hers. One side of his mouth curved into a mischievous smile. "I think our bodies will fit together quite well." She nearly melted under a hot, liquid rush of emotion before he added, "When we dance, that is."

"Oh," she said, stupidly letting him know that she'd a.s.sumed he was referring to another way they might fit together. She winced.

When she dared to look at him again, he drew his free hand from behind his back and brought it into the small s.p.a.ce between them. She looked down at a single, long-stemmed red rose.

"I couldn't resist." He grinned, a devilishly charming little boy's smile that nudged her heartbeats into a gallop. d.a.m.n, that mouth was s.e.xy. "You don't have to hold it in your teeth. I'll find a bud vase so you can leave it here."

She nodded, wondering what it was about Drew that kept knocking her senseless. It wasn't like she'd never been given a rose before. In fact, she'd received hundreds. Jeff sent them in all colors, by the dozen, on a regular basis. Of course, they were delivered, not handed to her personally. And he'd never looked at her quite like that.

She had taken the rose from Drew and now she didn't know what to do with it. Simply holding it was dizzying, like being sucked into an emotional whirlpool with Drew at the center. Her panicked mind sought a way out.

Thrusting the rose back, she blurted, "I forgot, I have to call Jeff before we go."

"Great," he muttered. "Sounds like a real buzzkill to me."

That was the point. As quickly as she could manage in three-inch heels and a floor-length dress, she fled the room.

Jeff was safe. He was stable and dependable, and he never made her feel quivery inside. At least he never had before that misguided phone s.e.x incident, which was never never going to happen again. He was also suspicious. going to happen again. He was also suspicious.

"What do you mean, you were searching Meg's apartment? What for?"

"That's what I've been trying to explain, we don't know. Anything that might relate to the photographs, or to why someone might try to kidnap her. But we didn't find anything." Lauren decided not to mention the short brown hair in the comb; Jeff was already disapproving enough of Meg's "misguided morals."

"Lauren, I told you to leave that stuff to the police."

"Yes, I remember. Jeff? I..." She hadn't planned to bring it up, but suddenly his answer seemed important.

He waited through her hesitation, then said with exaggerated patience, "You what, Lauren?" He sounded impatient today, maybe a reaction to how vulnerable he'd sounded during the phone s.e.x incident. If he was still embarra.s.sed about it, she was sure the blame was going to s.h.i.+ft back to her.

Lauren had to remove an immaculately manicured fake fingernail from her mouth to speak. "Would you be willing to come to Was.h.i.+ngton and help me?"

"Help? I don't think interfering with a police investigation would be helpful, Lauren. I'm sure the police would rather have you stay out of it, and I'm certain they don't need my help."

"The Secret Service," she mumbled.

He couldn't have heard her, because he spoke over her. "Besides, I have that Board of Directors meeting for the Downtown Development Project, and you know how important it is that the mayor have a good impression of Duchaine Properties."

"Yes, I suppose your family's business is more important than my sister."

"Of course it is," he a.s.sured her, then seemed to realize the trap he'd fallen into. "Not that Meg isn't important to you, honey, but she has a husband to take care of her now. I have to think about us. The success of Duchaine Properties will ensure our financial future. It's my job to look out for our welfare."

"Uh-huh." Lauren knew he expected her to be pleased with his response, but only felt numb. Money was important to him; Meg wasn't.

Jeff's voice became hearty and encouraging, probably in response to her lack of enthusiasm. He hated it when she was worried or tense. "So what did you do with the rest of your day? Did you get a chance to visit Aunt Betty and Uncle John?"

d.a.m.n, she'd forgotten all about them. "No, I got my hair cut. I think you'll like it." she'd forgotten all about them. "No, I got my hair cut. I think you'll like it."

She heard several seconds of silence before Jeff's voice came back, sounding cautious. "I suppose a few hours at the beauty salon might make you feel better."

"I didn't go to a salon, one of Gerald's friends did it here. His partner, actually."

"Gerald? What do you mean, his partner? Are they police officers? For G.o.d's sake, why would a policeman be cutting your hair?"

She'd thought talking to Jeff would make her feel safe and secure. Instead, she was feeling more reckless every minute, like she'd been confined and needed to break free. Since she'd already admitted to half of today's irresponsible behavior, she ignored his questions and blundered on with the rest of it. "It wasn't to make me feel better, it was so I could look exactly like Meg when we go to the party at the Romanian emba.s.sy tonight." Confession was supposed to be good for the soul.

"The Romanian... ? We? Lauren, what are you talking about?"

Nothing he would approve of, she was certain. Why make him worry? "Gosh, Jeff, I just realized how late it is. Drew's waiting. I'll talk to you tomorrow, honey, okay?"

"Lauren, wait-"

"'Bye." She clicked off, then slowly raised one of her remaining endangered nails to her mouth before remembering it was protected by an acrylic one. Her nail got a reprieve as she considered the brush-off she'd just accomplished. She wasn't used to hiding things from Jeff, but sometimes men just didn't understand the bond between women, especially between sisters.

Except Drew. He understood.

But Drew didn't have an important job to worry about back home. He had skiing dates with snow bunnies. That was one big difference between him and Jeff. If she wanted to bother comparing them, that is. And she didn't.

In fact, she'd like to forget about Drew altogether. That would be difficult, however, if he intended to spend the next few hours on a dance floor, fitting their bodies together.

She stubbornly blocked Drew from her mind and concentrated on the socializing she would have to do. Callista Featherstone hovered ominously in every imagined situation.

Lauren's gaze strayed to the sherry on the bar built into Senator Creighton's bookshelves. Perhaps a little liquid courage would help.

CHAPTER Six.

Drew tucked Lauren's arm through his as they entered the emba.s.sy ballroom. He would have loved to touch more than her arm; he had wanted to ever since she'd appeared in that dress, but for tonight she was his new stepmother, not the tempting, headstrong bundle of nervous energy who both liked and despised him.

He dipped his head so Lauren could hear him over the buzz of the ballroom. "If we get separated, don't leave this room with anyone, anyone, even if he turns out to be your mysterious Romanian." even if he turns out to be your mysterious Romanian."

She looked panicked. "You said you'd stay with me."

"I won't let you get far, and I won't take my eyes off you. But he might not approach you if I'm right beside you." He scanned the crowd for familiar faces. "Do you think you can remember all those people Gerald drilled you on?"

She shook her head firmly. "I don't think so. Sometimes people don't look like their photographs-"

"Meg, you s.e.xy devil! I haven't seen you in ages." Lauren was whirled from Drew's arm and into the embrace of a tall, sandy-haired man. "I told you to marry me, but did you listen? No, you married that old coot, instead. He might have more money, sweetheart, but I have more stamina."

Drew crossed his arms and regarded the man tolerantly. "h.e.l.lo, Senator Pierson."

"Drew Creighton! Nice to see you! Where's that old man of yours? I must challenge him to a duel for the hand of this fair maiden."

Drew worried for a moment, but Lauren freed herself from Senator Pierson's embrace and picked up on his hint without hesitation.

"Paul, who are you kidding?" Lauren said, kissing the man's cheek. "You don't give a d.a.m.n about fair maidens. And if you thought I qualified you wouldn't have your lecherous paws all over me."

Very good. She'd done better than he hoped.

"Ha! You're right about that. I like my women bold and experienced. So where is that sly old man of yours? I can't believe I had to hear about your wedding on the news."

"He was called away on business," Drew said.

Pierson's eyes never left Lauren. "Is that so? Well, it'll serve that irresponsible son of a b.i.t.c.h right if I steal his woman. Come on, Meg. Let's do a round on the dance floor before I get too loaded to see straight."

Lauren allowed herself to be swept off without as much as a backward glance. Drew frowned, grabbed a drink from a pa.s.sing waiter, and found a spot where he could watch from the sidelines.

She was easy to keep track of on the dance floor. His eyes were drawn to her smooth, flowing movements no matter how many couples came between them. He wasn't the only one watching, either. Word of Senator Creighton's new wife pa.s.sed quickly through the room, and Drew noticed several heads turn her way. Or maybe they were as mesmerized by the attractive, laughing young woman as he was.

She looked more relaxed every second. What had happened to no-nonsense, sensible Lauren? He took a long drink of champagne and clenched his jaw, noting which people seemed most interested in Lauren.

After watching several minutes of close dancing and Senator Pierson's hand sliding down Lauren's back to rest irritatingly close to her swaying bottom, Drew left his gla.s.s on a table and crossed the dance floor.

"Excuse me, Senator. I'm afraid I promised to stick close to Meg tonight." He forced his way between Lauren and Pierson, pulling her close and continuing the dance. Senator Pierson acquiesced, but leaned close to Lauren and said, "If you ever get tired of the old man, Meg, you know where to find me. Just be sure to ditch your babysitter here first." He clicked his tongue twice while winking at Lauren, punched Drew on the arm, and left.

Lauren watched him go with a bemused look. "Are you sure he's a good friend of your dad's? He sure put the moves on me."

"Did he?" Drew aimed a hard stare at Pierson's back. The man was probably no more than fifty, young and handsome enough to be a serious threat. "He's probably all talk, but only because he values my dad's friends.h.i.+p. Otherwise you'd be fair game."

"But I'm married! That is, Meg's married-"

"Meg Sutherland!" a woman interrupted. "But I hear it's Meg Creighton now. How very romantic, the secretary marrying her boss." Drew turned in time to see the woman give him a head-to-toe glance that could have chilled a blowtorch before addressing Lauren again. "I suppose your husband isn't able to fulfill his obligations tonight," she said, leaving no doubt that she was referring to more than accompanying his wife on the dance floor.

Anger gathered inside Drew, but before he could let fly with a nasty retort, Lauren moved closer to Drew and said, "Isn't it wonderful that my stepson is so willing to help out? He's such a good-" She hesitated as she fixed Drew with a coy look. "-dancer."

Just when he thought she was going to be able to pull this off. Drew whirled her away before she could say more.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing? That woman is the president's chief advisor on domestic affairs," he said through clenched teeth.

"Really? Good for her. She seems to hate my sister." Lauren darted evil looks over his shoulder in the woman's direction. "Why is that?"

"I don't know. She's too old to have been one of my dad's former lovers. Maybe she just hates beautiful, young women like Meg who take a shortcut up the power ladder. Especially if they belong to the other party." He took a close look at Lauren's gray-green eyes, still flas.h.i.+ng with aggression. "And where the h.e.l.l did this other side of you come from?"

"I don't know." She gave him a bemused smile that made his heart skip a beat. "I was nervous, but then I just started being Meg. My sister has an outgoing personality. Effervescent."

"I'm sure Paul Pierson found you effervescent. Doris Atherton probably thinks you're a b.i.t.c.h."

Lauren shrugged. "She already did. Besides, I kind of like speaking my mind. Where can I get another drink?"

Drew wasn't sure she needed to loosen her tongue, but he couldn't complain. For the most part, Lauren was following the script, being conspicuously social and provocative. He just hadn't expected her to be so good at it. It should have confirmed his suspicion that she was just as phony as all the others, but Lauren's phoniness had nothing to do with flirting. He was beginning to think the phony part of Lauren was the controlled, practical woman who met all her parents' expectations. The woman who was engaged to the ever-so-sensible Jeff.

Drew steered them to the side and snagged two champagne flutes. He took a hearty gulp, but Lauren only had time for one genteel sip before a medallion-covered Romanian dignitary demanded an introduction. He appeared to be at least a couple decades older than the man they were looking for, the one Lauren described with an irritating smile as sounding "cultured and s.e.xy."

"Ahh, Mrs. Creighton," the man said. "I thought this was you. I saw you and your new husband on the news."

"Did you?"