Part 18 (1/2)

”Hard to tell with you two,” Chapman grumbled. ”Yeah, we have a name, a financial advisor at the senator's bank. We're looking for him. The guy seems to have disappeared.”

”I would, too,” Drew said.

”We'll find him. In the meantime, we'll expect you to confine yourselves to this house until we find Senator and Mrs. Creighton, and resolve this mess.”

”Gladly.” She looked at Drew. ”Right?”

He s.h.i.+fted his eyes toward her. ”Right,” he replied in a flat voice.

She smiled pleasantly at the agent. Chapman frowned at each of them, then stood and slapped a business card on the table. ”Call me if there's a problem.”

”We will,” she a.s.sured him.

”I'll see you out,” Drew said, rising.

He stood close enough to Chapman that she couldn't help noticing the difference between the two. Both were tall, probably six-two or -three, with a solid, athletic build. But Chapman's moves were abrupt and jerky, the motions of someone who spent too much time in a business suit, riding in cars, and sitting behind a desk. Drew's movements had the fluid grace that implied a well-conditioned body, used to physical exertion and tests of strength. Besides the fact that looking at him heated her from the inside out like a blowtorch, she wouldn't bet a dime on Chapman in any physical confrontation against Drew. Which looked to be about one sentence away from happening if the agent didn't leave now.

”Don't bother,” she said, stepping between them and taking Agent Chapman by the arm. ”You sit and eat, Drew. I'll see him out.” She placed a hand on Drew's chest and shoved, which had no effect but to make him to look at her. She narrowed her eyes in a threatening glare, then tugged Chapman toward the foyer. Before she could get him out the door, Drew called out from behind them.

”Hey, Chapman.”

The agent turned with a suspicious look. ”Yeah?”

”We're going to make a trip to the grocery store to stock up before we lock ourselves away here. Just wanted to give you notice in case you don't trust us, and want to follow.”

Chapman returned his steady look. ”I'll do that.”

”Whole Foods, in thirty minutes.”

”See you there,” Chapman sneered, and left.

As soon as the door closed, Drew's expression turned innocent. ”What?”

”Only a man could make grocery shopping sound like a showdown at the O.K. Corral.”

He smiled. ”Do you have a coat with big pockets?”

It was probably easier to play along, rather than ask him to explain. ”Yes, my raincoat. But it's sunny today.”

”That's okay. Put a few changes of underwear in those pockets and any other necessities you'll need for the next few days. Maybe a T-s.h.i.+rt if there's room.”

”The next few days? That's an ambitious shopping trip you're planning.”

He took her hand and led her back to the kitchen. It was a simple thing, having his hand around hers, but it felt good. Natural. She closed her fingers around his.

”How much confidence do you have in our young Agent Chapman?” Drew asked.

She made a face. ”Not much. He lost track of probably the most recognizable man in the country after the president and vice president.”

”Right, and you can take the vice president off that list; he hasn't been around Was.h.i.+ngton as long as my dad. So do you want to sit around here and wait while those two goons chase their tails, or do you want to get in on the action?”

It seemed he already knew her well enough that he didn't have to wait for her answer. Picking up the phone, he punched in a series of numbers and waited.

”Gerald! What are you up to?”

While he listened, Drew smiled at Lauren and ran a finger along her cheek, seemingly more intent on her face than on whatever Gerald was saying. She s.h.i.+vered with pleasure.

”Why don't you wash that paint off? I want to ask you for a favor. By the way, did you know the Secret Service has our phone tapped?”

This time his finger went around her ear, then slid through a lock of hair. More s.h.i.+vers.

”Neither did I. Anyway, they want us to lie low here for a few days. So I was thinking I might be able to borrow that hot Swede of yours.”

Hot Swede? Was he asking to borrow p.o.r.nography? She'd known he'd be more s.e.xually adventurous than Jeff, but it had seemed like she was all the stimulation he'd need.

While Gerald answered, or thought about his answer, Drew held the phone away and leaned close to her ear. ”That's what he calls his Volvo,” he whispered, then licked her earlobe while he was there. Her head tilted involuntarily with pleasure, rubbing against his.

”We're going to make a quick trip to Whole Foods to stock up. You could meet us there.” His finger traced the line of her jaw, then traveled down her neck, hooking into her crew neck collar and pulling slightly. She wanted to rip it off.

Drew chuckled into the phone. ”Yeah, I can pay in euros, you elitist sn.o.b. I'll see you there in half an hour. Thanks, buddy.”

He hung up. ”He won't trade for the Taurus. Paying in euros means we have to give him my dad's Mercedes,” he told her absently. His wandering finger came back up to tilt her chin toward his face as he captured her gaze and sent her pulse racing. She held her breath in antic.i.p.ation.

Drew's voice lowered pa.s.sionately. He murmured, ”If you stuff any sort of nightgown into those pockets I'm going to be very disappointed.”

She s.h.i.+vered deliciously. A nightgown? Perish the thought.

CHAPTER Nine.

They found Gerald lurking among the melons, driving cap pulled low over his eyes, appearing to be in deep deliberation over which fruit to buy. When he saw them he lifted a melon in front of his face and whispered furtively around it.

”Are you being followed?”

Drew took the melon from him and placed it in their empty shopping cart. ”No, they waited in the parking lot. They're parked next to the Mercedes.”

Gerald looked disappointed. ”Who are they?”

”It's Hawknose and Trenchcoat,” Lauren told him, nodding sagely to emphasize the significance of her information.

His mouth dropped open. ”Those two incompetent idiots are Secret Service?”

”Yes, and they're expecting us to buy a cart full of groceries,” Drew told him, ”so give us a good twenty minutes or so before you go out to the car.”

Gerald snorted. ”You can add another ten onto that while I berate that big clod for ripping my topcoat. The federal government owes me a refund, and by G.o.d, that clumsy oaf is going to get the bill.”

”Just don't forget to buy some groceries first,” Drew said.