Our Little Secret Read online

  “Okay,” Gerald agreed reluctantly. “But it needs something to make it look special. This is an embassy party.”

  “I didn’t bring any accessories, Gerald.” Steven stepped out from behind the kitchen chair so Lauren could see him without twisting around on her stool. In blue jeans and flannel shirt, Steven couldn’t look more different from Gerald, who wore his standard vest and tie even though it was Saturday. “Did you bring anything with you that we could use?” he asked her. “Ribbons, silver combs, jeweled barrettes, anything?”

  Lauren mentally reviewed her meager grooming supplies. “I have a velvet band I use to tie my hair back,” she said doubtfully.

  Steven rubbed his neatly trimmed beard as he studied the top of her head. “I could work with that. What color?”

  “Red.”

  Gerald smiled. “Perfect. She has a black dress, Steven. It’ll be great. Very sexy.”

  The world was conspiring to make her sexy. Lauren warmed to the idea and flicked her gaze toward Drew. He looked entirely too detached and carefree, and she felt too exposed in her bathrobe, even though it covered her from head to toe. “Why aren’t you getting ready?” she asked him. “What are you going to wear?”

  “I have a tux upstairs. Dad usually ropes me into attending these things when I’m in town. He keeps hoping political aspirations will rub off on me.” His cynical tone said it was a vain hope.

  Like a typical man, he’d probably devote all of ten minutes to getting dressed, and look perfect. But letting him watch while Steven transformed her into something sexy made her squirm. She’d already caught his gaze on her a bit too often this afternoon.

  “Shouldn’t you check with the police? I thought they were going to keep us updated on their search.”

  It was the right diversion.

  “Yeah, you’re right.” Drew’s chair dropped. “I’ll give that cop a call.”

  “Detective Rasmussen,” Gerald supplied, keeping a critical eye on Lauren’s hair as Steven began snipping.

  “That’s the guy. I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” she muttered to his back.

  Lauren closed her eyes, prepared to sink into the luxury of being pampered, when Gerald crossed his arms and planted himself in front of her. “Okay, time to review your homework.”

  She stiffened. This was the scary part. “There’s no way I can learn all those names and faces in the next few hours. Can’t I just smile politely at everyone and avoid using names?”

  Gerald scowled. “No, you cannot. You could end up being too remote to one of Senator Creighton’s best friends, or worse yet, flashing a smile at Callista Featherstone and giving the whole thing away.” He narrowed a sharp stare at her while wagging a finger. “I can not emphasize this enough. Callista is a petty, jealous witch-with-a-B and hates Meg with a passion. Once you open your mouth, it will take her all of ten seconds to realize that you are not your sister. Ten seconds after that, the whole room will know.”

  Lauren swallowed but couldn’t get rid of the lump that had suddenly developed in her throat. “How am I supposed to recognize her? Can’t you come with us?”

  Her desperation softened Gerald’s glare. “No, I can’t. Just stay away from any tall blondes with a crash-test front end.”

  “A what?”

  “Air bags, sweetie,” he said, holding his hand up to support giant, invisible breasts. “Fully inflated. Avoid any women matching that description, especially if they have a nasty little predatory glint in their eyes.” He shrugged. “That should eliminate most of the strumpets. You can be polite to the rest.”

  Lauren’s shoulders sagged with defeat, causing Steven to poke her back to an upright posture. She moaned, “I’ll never remember all those people.”

  “Andrew can help. He knows some of the men.” A wicked grin swept across his face. “And probably most of the women.”

  Somehow that was more irritating than reassuring, which was probably the reaction Gerald intended. While she concentrated on looking disinterested, Drew walked into the kitchen.

  “The police are off the case,” Drew said, not looking very happy about it. “Orders of the Secret Service. I couldn’t get hold of whoever’s in charge of it now.”

  “Is that normal?” Lauren asked.

  “Probably,” Gerald told her. “The Secret Service provides protection for senators and representatives if it’s needed. They have a full investigative staff.” He squinted critically at the side of her head. “More layering,” he directed Steven. “It has to swing when she moves her head back and forth.” He demonstrated, swishing imaginary layers of hair across his collar.

  Lauren wasn’t sure she liked the way their case had been passed 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 shifted 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 sexy, but she was quite sure she’d never looked this good in her life. The fake red fingernails she’d applied were the finishing 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 attitude, 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 breasts to scrunch into rounded mounds with honest-to-God 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 breasts. 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 assumed 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 space 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. Damn, that mouth was sexy. “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 sex incident, which was never 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 sex incident. If he was still embarrassed about it, she was sure the blame was going to shift back to her.

  Lauren had to remove an immaculately manicured fake fingernail from her mouth to speak. “Would you be willing to come to Washington 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 assured 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?”

  Damn, 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 God’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 embassy 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 embassy 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, 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 sexy 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. “Hello, 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, ki
ssing the man’s cheek. “You don’t give a damn 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 bitch 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.”