Part 12 (1/2)
Lauren sounded genuinely charmed by the fact that the man watched TV. Drew nearly snorted at her lame attempt to flirt but was surprised to see that she was on target. The man beamed like a full moon. ”I must hold such a beautiful woman in my arms, if only for a few short minutes,” he said. ”Immediately.”
”Gag me,” Drew muttered, but Lauren smiled at the dignitary. She tossed back the rest of her champagne and handed the empty gla.s.s to Drew. ”I'll be right back,” she a.s.sured him happily. Drew was left holding two empty gla.s.ses as Lauren glided off in an embrace that held her conspicuous cleavage far too close to the Romanian's chest.
Drew stuffed down hors d'oeuvres and exchanged quick greetings with his father's friends while keeping an anxious eye on the dance floor. Just when he'd had enough of the Romanian's snug hold on Lauren, the dance ended and she was appropriated by a handsome, dark-haired man who held her even closer and executed moves that made Lauren's dress flair and flip alluringly as he spun her across the floor. Drew moved closer. If that was their s.e.xy Romanian, he seemed to have recovered from his concern for Meg. By the time Drew cut in, Lauren's face was flushed with pleasure and her partner's was alive with interest.
”Hi, Mom,” he said, surprising the man into releasing Lauren to Drew's waiting arms. ”Thanks for keeping my stepmother entertained,” he told him. ”I'll take over now.” The man offered Lauren a gracious, if confused, bow as Drew danced her away.
He remembered to hold her at a respectful distance, despite the possessive feelings that made him want to crush her to him. He frowned at the sparkle in her eyes and the exposed swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s that rose and fell with each excited breath. Looking at them, he became a bit excited himself, which only irritated him more.
”Enjoying your new social life?” he asked dryly.
”Very much. Why, aren't I supposed to?”
”You're supposed to be getting information, not whisker burns from tangoing cheek-to-cheek with every Don Juan on Emba.s.sy Row.”
She laughed. ”How can I do that if you keep cutting in? Is my stepson jealous?”
The fact that she'd hit it exactly on the head didn't make him more cheerful. ”Was that him?”
”No, David's an attache with the British Emba.s.sy, and he's not a Don Juan, either. He was very sweet.”
Sweet David made his jaw clench. ”And I suppose the Romanian field marshal was holding you close so he could whisper state secrets in your ear?”
”His medals were cold,” Lauren giggled. ”I thought that long dangling one was going to drop right down my dress.”
”So did I,” Drew grumbled.
”Mrs. Creighton!”
Lauren released him as she turned, and a large, florid man pumped her free hand with both of his own. Draping an arm over Drew's shoulder, he said, ”And you must be Harlan's son. Glad to meet you, boy.”
Drew tried to step away, but the beefy hand was locked onto his shoulder, while whiskey fumes indicated that somewhere there were drinks more bracing than champagne. ”And you are?” Drew prompted.
”Bud Childers. I've known your dad for years. We-hey, smile for the camera!”
Drew turned in time to catch the flash straight on. One of the ubiquitous photographers snapped several shots of the three of them while Bud squeezed the group together and beamed at the camera.
”Always good to be seen with a beautiful lady,” he told Lauren. ”Gotta run. You be sure to tell Harlan I said h.e.l.lo.”
Drew scowled with annoyance and directed Lauren to a more secluded corner near the orchestra. It was also close to the kitchen door, and Lauren released him as a young man pa.s.sed by with a tray of champagne.
”I'm so thirsty! It must be all the dancing.” She selected one, then turned to Drew. ”Want one?”
”No, thanks.” He waved the man off and waited impatiently while Lauren took a long sip. He started to speak, but stopped as he saw her face pale and her eyes widened with alarm.
”h.e.l.lo, Meg,” a cool feminine voice said behind him.
Drew turned and nearly b.u.mped into the protruding a.s.sets of a beautiful, tall blonde woman. Her low-cut gown barely confined her cleavage, giving him a close-up view of her firmly rounded b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
He raised his eyes to meet a frankly curious stare.
”Callista Featherstone?” he guessed.
The woman's perfectly fringed eyes blinked in surprise, and red lips opened with a childish innocence completely out of character with the rest of her body. ”Have we met? Surely I'd remember.”
”No, I haven't had the honor.” And if he played it right, he wouldn't have to. Drew took another deliberate look at her suspiciously large mounds and tried to sound sincere. ”But I had hoped to meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things about you.”
Callista's chest swelled proudly. At least he'd taken her attention off Lauren.
”I'm already intrigued, Mr...?”
”Oh, let's not spoil the mystery so soon,” Drew replied, making sure to let his gaze slip again to the obvious invitation she displayed between them. He smiled. ”There will be that much more for us to discover about each other. Perhaps you could meet me near the bar in ten minutes? I would love to buy you a drink and,” he slid another lingering look over her curves, ”get to know you better.”
Callista's eyelids lowered in sultry satisfaction as she flicked a glance past him to Lauren. From the corner of his eye Drew saw Lauren lift her gla.s.s and take another quick drink, hiding behind the only thing available.
Callista smiled. ”I'll see you there,” she purred. ”Come alone.”
Lauren lowered her drink and watched Callista strut away. ”Wow. You're good with s.l.u.ts. You must get a lot of practice.”
She looked so genuinely impressed he nearly laughed. ”Not that much.”
”How are you with good girls?”
His amus.e.m.e.nt died in a rush of heat, and he took a closer look at her. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or the dancing that had raised the pink glow in her face, but he found himself suddenly imagining what it would be like to press his mouth to her flushed skin and lick the champagne off her wet lips. The flirtatious look she was giving him wasn't making her easier to resist.
”Stop looking at me like that,” he whispered harshly.
”Like what?” The pink tip of her tongue ran over her upper lip and wide eyes blinked innocently at him.
”Like you're not married to my father!”
”I'm not.” The champagne must have dulled her reactions, because it took a moment for her to wonder aloud, ”Exactly how am I doing that?”
d.a.m.ned if he knew. Maybe it was his overheated imagination, reading something into the lively green eyes-they were definitely green now-that wasn't really there. He needed to cool off. Fast.
”Come on.” Taking her free hand, he led her behind the orchestra, where French doors opened onto a sheltered patio. Even though the March night was clear and mild, it was still no more than fifty degrees, and the patio was deserted. Perfect. A good dose of cold air might chill his overactive hormones into submission.
Lauren followed willingly, but as soon as the doors closed behind them, she s.h.i.+vered, hugging herself for warmth.
”What are we doing out here? It's freezing!” She tipped a long gulp of champagne down her throat.
”Alcohol won't help.” He took the gla.s.s from her, setting it on a wide cement ledge. Removing his jacket, he draped it over her bare shoulders and pulled it together in front. s.h.i.+rtsleeves still felt plenty warm after the heat she'd raised in him.
Lauren stuck her arms into the oversized sleeves and clasped the lapels together. ”I don't see why we have to stand out here,” she complained again.
”We need to reevaluate our plan, and I don't want to be overheard.” To a.s.sure that they weren't seen either, he led her around a large marble statue of a naked woman garlanded by marble flowers, holding a bowl of marble fruit.
Lauren raised her eyes as they rounded the statue. ”Look, even she's cold. Her nipples are all puckered and hard.” She snickered at her choice of words. ”I guess all of her is hard, isn't it? But her nipples look like they're frozen stiff.”