Our Little Secret Part 1

OUR Little SECRET.

by STARR AMBROSE.

Acknowledgments.

Special thanks to Kevan Lyon, who saw the rough version of this story and knew what it could become.

Thanks to Abby Zidle and Danielle Poiesz at Pocket Books for their brilliant editorial insights.

For expert advice, thanks to Lori Toth and Julie Vokwinkle. Any mistakes are my own.

Thanks always to Jim, Stevie, and Ariana for too many reasons to name, and to Key, who insisted I could type while holding a cat.

CHAPTER One.

Lauren Sutherland stood on the slush-covered Georgetown sidewalk and reminded herself that wrecking her sister's marriage was the responsible thing to do.

Sisters looked out for each other-especially when one sister insisted on being an irresponsible idiot. Meg would thank her for it later.

Probably.

Lauren cast a speculatve glance at the house. The red brick edifice to old money was exactly the home she would expect for the third most influential man in Washington, D.C. Meg always had been attracted to power, so that was no surprise. That was why she'd taken a job with Senator Harlan Creighton III in the first place. The lecherous creep. But marrying the elusive and infamous-not to mention much older-bachelor was a surprise even to Lauren's jaded expectations. She already chewed through three fingernails on the plane ride.

Lauren clenched her hand into a fist, hiding the evidence of her nervous habit. Being a good example took its toll.

A gust of wind snuck under her coat and up her skirt, reminding Lauren that she didn't need to stand outside in the chill March air. Might as well go inside where she could warm up, get into some comfortable clothes, and confront Meg. Her sister would put up a fight, but Lauren knew the best solution was a quick annulment. Meg would see that-eventually.

Briefcase in one hand and suitcase in the other, Lauren dragged herself up the walk to the front door, weaving a path around spots of melted snow that were trying to refreeze. She would have worn hiking boots and jeans instead of her prim black business suit, but Jeff objected. Her fiance said she had to make a good impression on the senator, and besides, the suit went with the expensive-looking red wool coat Meg had sent her. Lauren didn't know why she should care what the senator thought when he wasn't going to be a family member for longer than it took to get Meg to an attorney. And the expensive coat was obviously some sort of bribe to buy Lauren's approval. Well, Meg wasn't going to get it. What she was was going to get was a lecture on inappropriate behavior and old men who use power and money to buy everything they want, including women. going to get was a lecture on inappropriate behavior and old men who use power and money to buy everything they want, including women.

With her indignation nicely pumped up, Lauren set down both pieces of luggage and rang the doorbell, prepared to burst her sister's bubble.

She didn't hear footsteps behind the heavy door, but seconds later a deadbolt clicked and the door opened. Prepared for Meg's ecstatic grin, Lauren blinked in confusion. She stood face-to-face with a frowning dark-haired man in worn jeans and a crewneck sweater.

He couldn't be the hired help, not in those clothes. And he was far too young to be the senator, though his demeanor said he belonged here. Lauren's first thought was that she had the wrong house. But she couldn't; the limo driver dropped her here, and he certainly knew where Senator Creighton lived.

Which led to her second thought: Holy cow, why hadn't Meg mentioned this guy? He wasn't the type who escaped notice, especially by someone as fond of good-looking men as her sister. Lauren was certainly noticing. She noticed the flashing blue eyes full of sharp intelligence, the strong jaw implying decisive action, and the athletic build... well, a woman could spend a long time appreciating a man with a body like that. Even an engaged woman.

As she stared, the man's expression changed, his attractive mouth curving into an ironic smile.

"Well, well, well," he drawled in a voice as richly masculine as the rest of him. "Look who's back."

Before she could respond, his hand darted out, grabbed her sleeve, and he yanked her inside.

"Hey!" Startled, Lauren swatted at the hand that had already released her, and backed away until she felt the wall. She'd been right about the decisive action. He had a commanding presence, too. But she hadn't expected a physical a.s.sault, and she eyed the man warily.

Steely blue eyes a.s.sessed her in return. He crossed his arms and planted his feet firmly in front of the door.

"What did you forget?" he asked. "The number for the offsh.o.r.e account?"

Lauren tried to find an appropriate response, but between his confrontational att.i.tude and his distracting, um, distraction, all that came out was, "Huh?"

His appraisal was more frank than hers had been, and downright disconcerting as his gaze traveled her body from head to toe. She squirmed and tried to ignore the little shiver that crept across her shoulders.

"I see why he fell for you," he finally said. It might have been flattering if he hadn't sounded so disgusted.

"You do?" Her brain was regaining traction.

"Don't get your hopes up. I'm not here to congratulate you on your marriage."

"My marriage?" She suddenly understood the problem. "You think I'm Meg!" She didn't question why this drop-dead gorgeous hunk would be angry with Meg. Her sister went through men like candy, and he wouldn't be the first guy she'd dropped like a day-old sucker.

One dark eyebrow lifted, a good look for him. "Is this part of the game? Who do you expect me to think you are?"

"I'm Meg's sister, Lauren."

He smiled, appearing genuinely amused-an even better look. "The mistaken ident.i.ty routine-I thought you'd be smarter than that. Sorry, it won't work. Gerald described you. Red coat, Pendleton scarf, medium-length dirty blonde hair." He looked her up and down pointedly, causing a curious flutter in her stomach. "That's you. I'll admit the diamond ring's a bit small, but that's your problem."

The last comment jolted her out of her fantasies. His description of her might be right, but his att.i.tude was all wrong. It had always been irritating to be mistaken for her sister, even though they were identical twins. But insulting the sensibly priced ring Jeff had picked out was crossing the line.

"Look, I don't know who you are, but I told you, I'm not Meg. I'm Lauren. And whoever Gerald is, he's wrong."

The man actually laughed, and Lauren noted with irritation that he looked good doing it. "Gerald's never wrong."

If he hadn't sounded so arrogant about it, she'd have been more sympathetic. Maybe he thought she was easily intimidated. She stepped toward him, right up to the creamy-beige sweater, stuck her face close to his and said in slow, distinct words, "I'm not Meg. Gerald's wrong."

She was close enough to smell him, a clean, open-air smell, like pine trees and sunshine. She could even feel the heat from his body. Or maybe it was hers. Someone was overheating.

He held her gaze for several seconds, then yelled, "Gerald!" loud enough to make her flinch.

Footsteps pounded down a staircase and vibrated through the gleaming floorboards until a young man appeared at the other end of the s.p.a.cious foyer. He pushed wire-rimmed gla.s.ses back up his nose and put a hand over his tailored vest as he fought to catch his breath. "What?"

The man lifted a hand as if he were presenting Lauren for an introduction. "Well? Is this her?"

"Megan!" the young man cried happily.

Lauren felt her frown deepen and she spoke to Gerald in carefully enunciated words. "I am not Meg."

"Give it up, lady," her accuser began, but Gerald interrupted.

"Wait, wait, Andrew," he said, staring at Lauren intently while flapping a hand at his handsome but pushy friend. Stepping closer, Gerald peered at her face, then made a slow circle around her. Lauren stood still, shifting her eyes cautiously to follow him. He was small, but he had an air of authority and she knew his judgment was going to carry weight.

He finally spoke, using one arm to support his elbow as he tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. "She does look like Megan, but the hair is too long."

"Too long?" Lauren blurted in disbelief. "If anything, mine is shorter. Do you even know Meg? Her hair is halfway down her back!"

"She cut it two days ago," Gerald informed her with a superior air, as if she should have known.

Lauren hesitated. She hadn't actually seen her sister in several months. "She did?"

He nodded, an arrogant sort of affirmation that said he knew many things about Meg that she obviously didn't. "Megan now has a very stylish feathered cut that just brushes the top of the collar, with a few wispy bangs." His fingers sketched invisible locks on his own forehead in demonstration. "Plain, but striking, if you have the right sort of face. Which, of course, our Meg does. She-"

The man he'd called Andrew wasn't listening to the rest of the fashion commentary. "It could be a wig," he suggested. Before Lauren could duck, he reached out and tugged a lock of her hair.

"Hey, back off!" She instinctively kicked him in the shin.

"Ow!" Bending his knee, he grabbed his throbbing leg. "Jesus, lady, I wasn't attacking you."

"You grabbed me," she said, then tacked on, "twice," in case he thought she had overlooked the way he'd pulled her in the door. In fact, the way he'd reached out and pulled her toward him had been quite memorable.

While they glared suspiciously at each other, Gerald mused, "No, that's definitely not Megan. She had her hair layered for fullness. She would never let anyone style it that way, all straight and flat and..." He stopped as Lauren shot an annoyed glance his way. "So you must be Meg's sister, Lauren," he concluded.

"Ha! Finally!" Lauren flung her hand toward Gerald in an exasperated gesture as she turned to the man who, gorgeous or not, had the audacity to imply that she was a liar. "See?"

"Okay, okay." He tested the ability of his right leg to hold his weight. It looked st.u.r.dy enough to Lauren, so he'd better not be expecting an apology. "You're not Meg. I was wrong. Not that it wasn't a logical mistake," he added in an undertone.

She crossed her arms and sniffed her dissatisfaction.

"Probably cracked my shin bone," he muttered, taking a few limping steps to enhance his performance.

She watched, unmoved. His leg looked perfectly fine to her. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Drew Creighton," he said absently, concentrating on his wounded leg. The big baby. With a slight sneer, he added, "Nice to meet you, Aunt Lauren."

Time shuddered to a halt. Lauren felt her mouth open stupidly. "What?"

She had his attention again, and his slow grin was wicked with satisfaction. "I'm Senator Creighton's son. Which makes me your sister's new stepson. And, it seems, your nephew. Aren't blended families fun?"

What had Meg done to her? Engaged women might be allowed to have semi-s.e.xual feelings about other men, but aunts definitely weren't supposed to have those feelings about their nephews. Lauren was in big trouble here. Besides, Drew was too old to be her nephew. He had to be about thirty-five or -six, which would make him no more than five years older than she was. Her sister hadn't mentioned any grown children from the senator's first marriage. She cleared her throat and asked hesitantly, "Do you have any sisters or brothers?"

He seemed to enjoy that one even more. "Yes, your newly acquired niece, Miranda, is forty years old. Congratulations."

He probably thought Miranda's age was the reason for her stunned expression. In actuality, she was still grappling with the idea that the man who had stirred her l.u.s.t at first sight was her nephew, albeit her not-so-nice nephew.

A related thought occurred to her. Her sister had always preferred the studly types. If Drew's father still looked this virile in person, she might be forced to rethink Meg's impulsive marriage: The attraction could be based on more than money.

While Lauren recovered, Gerald retrieved her luggage from the porch and coaxed her out of her coat. She looked at him over her shoulder as he hung it in the front closet, cautiously a.s.sessing the smaller man. He didn't look anything like Drew, but you never knew. "Are we related, too?"

Drew snorted back laughter, but Gerald answered her seriously. "Not at all. I'm the senator's personal secretary. A man of Senator Creighton's means has many business interests outside the Senate. Meg is his a.s.sistant for all that political stuff." He dismissed the United States Senate with a wave of his hand. "Come in and sit down, Miss Sutherland. Perhaps you can help us determine the whereabouts of your sister."

Lauren fought against a familiar, sinking feeling. Her irresponsible sister had stood her up-why should she be surprised? This was exactly what she hated about Meg, and exactly why she was with a dependable, sensible man like Jeff. Meg could stand to adopt a few of his values.

"Call me Lauren," she murmured, trailing Gerald into the living room. She could feel Drew's presence behind her. All the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as if carrying a magnetic charge pulling them in Drew's direction. She tried to ignore him as she addressed Gerald. "What did you mean about determining her whereabouts? Where is Meg?"

"Pay no attention to Gerald, he worries too much," Drew said as he settled onto a yellow sofa. The silk brocade upholstery was patterned with pale green flowers, and the contrast with his plain sweater and jeans only made him look more masculine. Lauren didn't realize she was staring until she caught his lazy smile. She quickly looked away.

Gerald clasped his hands, apparently too nervous to sit. "Meg stopped by the house two days ago on her way to the bank. No one's heard from her since." Concern was evident in his voice. Gerald obviously considered Meg a friend, and he was worried about her. Lauren wondered if she should be worried, too.

Drew gave a soft snort. "They haven't heard from her with good reason. Either my father is keeping his new bride occupied, which I'll admit is possible, or she's already ditched him in favor of his a.s.sets, and she's long gone." When Lauren frowned at him he pointed toward the matching sofa across from his. "Have a seat. I can't wait to hear what excuses you come up with for Meg's behavior."

She eased onto the edge of the sofa, knees together, purse tucked under her arm, the ant.i.thesis of Drew's relaxed sprawl. Angling her body away from him and toward Gerald, she tried to allay his fears. "I don't know why you haven't heard from Meg. I have. She called around noon the day before yesterday to say she'd reserved a plane ticket for me, and begged me to come. She knew I had to use my vacation time for the trip, so I'm sure she wouldn't just"-she waved a hand and quoted him-"disappear. She knows I can't stay here long. You'll see, she'll be back soon. She must be with Senator Creighton." She slid a dark look at Drew as she quoted him again. "Who is keeping her occupied."

"Maybe," Gerald mused. Lauren didn't like how grudgingly he said it. "We called his Senate office, but he wasn't available. Committee meetings or something. We're waiting for him to call back."

"Stingy with vacation time, are you? Even to celebrate your sister's marriage."

She glared at Drew, annoyed that he'd sorted out the one fact that made her sound prissy and rigid. "Not that it's any of your business, but my fiance and I have resort reservations that I made months in advance."

G.o.d, she did did sound rigid. sound rigid. And And prissy. prissy.

"Oh, I know what her reason was."

"You do?" She and Gerald said it together.

"It's obvious." He scanned Lauren from her turtleneck sweater to her sensible low-heeled shoes. "Do you and your sister always dress alike, some cute little twin thing?"

"We're not six years old," Lauren snapped.

"So why did you dress exactly like her today?"

Had she? Lauren recalled his description of Meg's coat and scarf, the reason for the mistaken ident.i.ty at the front door. She hesitated, then admitted, "I didn't know Meg owned the same coat and scarf. She Fed-Exed these to me. They were a gift, and she said if she knew exactly what I was wearing it would be easier to spot me at the airport." It did sound weird, now that she said it out loud. They just didn't know that weird behavior was the norm for her sister. As far as weird went, sending Lauren a new coat and scarf for her trip to Washington didn't stand out.

"But she didn't pick you up at the airport," Drew objected.

"She sent a limo instead because she'd been delayed."

"Uh-huh. And why didn't she just ask you what you'd be wearing? Wouldn't that be easier than playing identical dress-up games?"

d.a.m.n, his logic was even better than Jeff's, who had impeccable reasoning skills. It didn't seem to be puzzling Drew, though. "If you're so smart, you tell me why she did it."

Drew made himself comfortable first, arms crossed and long legs stretched beneath the coffee table. It was the sort of careless confidence she might have found s.e.xy in someone less obnoxious. "I don't think Meg sent you an identical coat and scarf. I think she sent you her own."

Lauren recognized the truth as soon as he said it. She recalled noticing the faint scent of Meg's perfume on both items. But she wasn't about to admit anything to this stranger. "So what?"

"So, she set you up. You were a decoy."

"What? That's ridiculous." Even as she denied it, Lauren was aware that was exactly how it sounded.