Part 6 (1/2)
”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.”