Our Little Secret Part 8

She squinted at him, probably trying to decide if telling him was worth the effort. "I do cost a.n.a.lysis for an engineering firm," she said.

"Uh-huh," he said agreeably. "Interesting."

"It is," she told him, instantly defensive. He didn't give a d.a.m.n what she said about cost a.n.a.lysis. He watched her eyes, trying to decide between gray or green. "I look at the projected cost of a job and determine how much the company can afford to bid. It's a very responsible position, and I'm very good at it."

Drew smiled and took the folder from her hands. "I believe you."

Her look said he probably couldn't tell a profit-loss column from a grocery list. "What do you do?"

"I ski." He flipped through the folder he held, then set it aside, letting her grapple with the concept of skiing as a career before he elaborated. "I run a small ski resort in Colorado, which is an excuse for doing what I like best-climbing and skiing." He left it at that, knowing she'd a.s.sume the worst.

"You're a ski b.u.m?" Her disbelief was mixed with an equal amount of disdain.

"I prefer to think of myself as a small business owner who skis."

"And climbs."

"Yup. Whenever I can."

Her brow furrowed and he could tell she was trying to decide whether a recreational activity qualified as a job. Her eyes were downcast, but her surrept.i.tious gaze swept his body, lingering on his chest and the thigh that nearly touched her own. If she was trying to think of all the ways a winter of skiing followed by a summer of climbing was a bad idea, she wouldn't find it there. But he didn't mind her looking.

Drew watched her lift another folder from the stack; he stared at what lay beneath it. "d.a.m.n," he said softly.

He noticed Lauren's gaze shift to her lap, and she sucked in her breath as he lifted the light blue envelope. It was identical to the one they had found at the bank, the one that contained compromising, embarra.s.sing photos of Meg and the blond Viking look-alike.

He met her wide-eyed gaze, his raised brows questioning whether she wanted him to open the clasp. Lauren nodded, then rested a pink polished fingertip between her teeth. When she caught him looking at it, she dropped her hand to the stack of papers in her lap. Both hands gripped the edges of the pile tightly, braced for a shock. "You open it."

Drew worked the clasp and tipped the envelope, catching the single paper that slipped out. Lauren flinched as he turned it over, probably expecting another X-rated photo.

He sighed with relief and held it out for her to see. "It's my parents' marriage certificate."

Lauren relaxed and leaned closer. She read aloud, "Kathryn Amelia Shay. Pretty name."

She was too polite to ask, but he could see the question in her eyes. "They were divorced," he told her.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No need to be. I was in high school and Miranda was in college, so it's not like it traumatized us. Things were better after they split up, and they were pretty good friends by the time my mom died a few years ago. I think she always loved him, she just couldn't put up with his constant affairs."

"I imagine you were surprised when he married Meg, then."

Drew snorted. "Surprised is putting it mildly. I was flabbergasted. He said he'd never marry again, and in my opinion he never should have been married in the first place." He gave her a rueful smile. "You were dead on when you called him a tomcat, you know. Fidelity is not in Harlan Creighton's nature."

"Hmm." She motioned toward the envelope. "Let's see Meg's marriage license. Is it in there?"

He glanced in the envelope and shrugged. "Nope."

Lauren looked surprised. "Why not? Isn't this where he keeps all his important papers? Where else would it be?"

"I have no idea." He had even less interest, but it was obvious that she did. "What's the big deal? You don't think your sister and my dad lied to us about being married, do you?"

"Well, no..." It didn't sound convincing.

"Dad's office even announced it to the press," he said, citing what for him was proof. Seeing her doubtful look, he tried for a lighter touch. "What's the matter, don't you want to be related to me?"

She seemed oddly unsettled by that comment, and he made a mental note to come back to it later.

"It just seems like it would be here, with the other one. If Meg changed her name, would she need to have it for ID purposes?"

"Only if they left the country. But we don't know if she changed her name. Let's keep looking."

They examined every folder and doc.u.ment in the safe before finally admitting it wasn't there. He couldn't have cared less, but Lauren had begun nibbling on a new fingernail. He already recognized it as the first sign that she was anxious. Reaching for her hand, he pulled it away from her mouth and examined the fingertips. All five were short, with chipped, ragged ends. She looked guilty and tried to pull her hand away, but he held on.

"Nervous habit?"

"I know it looks awful. I'm trying to stop, but I've had a relapse ever since all this with Meg."

He ran a finger over the short pink nails. He could have sworn a small quiver trembled through her hand just before she jerked it away and shoved both hands behind her back. "D-don't do that," she stammered. "I'm self-conscious about how they look."

"Then stop biting them."

Her smile lacked sincerity. "Why didn't I think of that?"

She seemed a little more unnerved than what simple embarra.s.sment called for, which he found fascinating. He wanted to take her hand again, maybe ma.s.sage his thumb along her wrist, just to see how she reacted.

"Where else can we look for their marriage certificate?" she asked, apparently intent on following up this new concern.

"I don't know." He stood and ran a hand through his hair as he turned in a slow circle, scanning his father's den. Lauren stood, too, rocking on her toes impatiently while he thought. "I've checked everything here," he mused. "Maybe his bedroom."

She perked up. "Good idea. Meg might have left her briefcase there."

Unless she had a file of threatening notes from her would-be abductors, Drew wasn't sure what helpful information might be in Meg's briefcase. Or, for that matter, in her underwear drawer. He wasn't sure what he was looking for at all, since the police were already following up with his dad's appointment logs and address books. But he couldn't just sit and wait.

He led the way upstairs, aware that Lauren walked a few feet behind him, hands tucked firmly in her pockets. Self-conscious about her nails, or simply avoiding his touch? Not that he had any reason to reach for her, but she'd turned skittish again since he'd held her hand. He wished he didn't find that attractive, but skittish looked irresistible on her.

He stopped at the bedroom door, forcing her to stand beside him to look into the room. He didn't move, enjoying her nearness and refusing to examine his feelings further.

The bedroom was still very much his father's, masculine in furnishings and decoration. He supposed that would change, now that his father shared his s.p.a.ce with a woman. Those fancy perfume bottles would appear on the dresser, along with family pictures in pretty frames, or flowery pillows and curtains. All things that weren't evident yet.

"That's odd. It doesn't even look like Meg's been here," Lauren said, obviously thinking along the same lines.

"Maybe she hasn't. They just got married a few days ago, right?"

She rolled her eyes at him in an expression of disbelief that he might be naive enough to think Meg and his dad hadn't shared a bed until then. He smiled and shrugged. He had no doubts about his father's over-active libido; he just didn't know if Lauren had been deceiving herself about Meg's s.e.x life. Apparently not.

"Meg made it sound like they'd just been married," Lauren told him. "And Gerald said she left here Tuesday morning, so she must have spent at least one night here recently." She crossed the room as she talked, heading for the closet. "Maybe Harlan is a good influence on her. Meg usually has clothes and shoes lying around, and half the time her bed isn't made..." Her voice trailed off as she entered the walk-in closet. He heard clothes rustle, then hangers being forcefully shoved aside. After several seconds of furious activity, she appeared, frowning. "Something's wrong here."

"What?" He joined her as Lauren marched back inside and grabbed a random handful of shirt sleeves, shaking it at him. "This. Nothing in here belongs to my sister. No business suits, no blouses, no shoes, not even a bathrobe. This doesn't make sense. Check the drawers."

They opened every drawer, including the nightstand beside the bed that held tissues, a box of condoms, and a bottle of v.i.a.g.r.a. Lauren lifted the tissue box, revealing a pile of s.e.x toys. Drew slammed the drawer shut before he could think about it. "Nothing. You're right."

"No briefcase, either," she said, obviously disappointed. "I think we should check Meg's apartment first thing in the morning."

"I agree."

He saw her hand go to her mouth and start on another nail, then with a quick glance his way, she transferred her hand to her hair and began twirling a strand around her finger.

"You're nervous again."

"I'm confused." More twirling. "Okay, I'm worried, too. And I'm starting to wonder if we can't find that marriage certificate because it simply doesn't exist."

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider whether she could be right. "You mean I might not be your nephew? And I was so hoping for a nice Christmas gift from my Aunt Lauren."

She almost smiled, but the worry won out. "Don't joke. Your dad and Meg are conveniently gone, and someone tried to abduct me thinking I was my sister. This sudden marriage has something to do with it, but I have no idea what." She bit her lip, then admitted: "It's scary."

Her concern sobered him quickly. "Hey. I'm sure they're all right, Lauren. They're not even in Washington any more." Without thinking about how she'd react, he walked to her and put an arm around her shoulders. And for a moment, she seemed to forget to be nervous about her sister-and about him. She leaned against him, closing her eyes with momentary relief at the sympathy. The next second they snapped open and she stiffened, taking a step away from him. d.a.m.n, just when he'd begun to be aware of what a good idea that instinct to comfort her had been.

She watched him warily. "What makes you so sure they're all right? That tape we saw was recorded earlier. Maybe they were abducted, then forced to call us so we'd quit looking for them."

She had quite an imagination. "Because Meg sounds as smart and resourceful as my dad," he said, not sure if it was true, but hoping it would make her feel better. "And think about it. If someone tried to abduct you this evening, it's because they don't don't have Meg. If they did, they'd know you couldn't be her." have Meg. If they did, they'd know you couldn't be her."

A look of hope gradually replaced the fear in her eyes. "You could be right."

He smiled. "Don't look so surprised. I sometimes am."

Her mouth softened into the beginning of a smile, the shapely upper lip parting slightly from the full lower one. His focus narrowed on those soft lips, and he was struck by the sudden, crazy urge to pull her toward him and see what it would feel like to put his mouth against hers. The compulsion was so unexpected and strong he started to reach out to her, but her wide-eyed stare made him hesitate long enough to come to his senses.

With a rea.s.suring smile, his hand detoured cautiously toward her hair, mindful of the punishment his shin had suffered the last time he'd touched it. Gently capturing the wavy strand she'd been twisting, he smoothed its length and tucked it behind her ear, turning his frighteningly intimate impulse to kiss her into what he hoped was a harmless gesture.

And a strange thing happened.

Huge greenish-gray eyes blinked several times and she caught the rosy swell of her lip between her teeth. It eased out as her s.e.xy lips parted again in an expression of amazement. For several seconds she simply stared at him.

"Uh," she began, stepping backward. "Um," she tried again, taking another step, obviously searching for words and having a difficult time finding them. Lauren motioned toward the door. "I think I'll just"-she stepped backward again, b.u.mping into the dresser-"turn in early. We'll want to check Meg's apartment in the morning."

"You're turning in?" he repeated, half amused, half disappointed.

She nodded, hands feeling for the dresser behind her. "Early."

"It's only nine o'clock."

She took a couple steps sideways. "I brought some work with me. In my briefcase," she added.

"Okay." He knew what the problem was, but he also knew she had to figure out the answer for herself.

"I really should fax it in by tomorrow, so I'll get started on it. I mean, I'll finish it." Words were coming faster now, and she seemed to realize how fl.u.s.tered she sounded. "Good night," she said quickly, and fled.

Drew listened as her footsteps hurried down the hall, encouraged by what had just happened. The first time he'd touched her hair, she'd kicked him soundly. The second time, she'd turned into a stumbling, babbling simpleton. He'd felt enough energy arcing between them to know exactly what her panic meant. Lauren was seriously conflicted.

He hoped she figured it out soon because next time he wasn't going to let her run away.

CHAPTER Five.

Lauren slammed the bedroom door behind her and leaned against it, breathing hard. d.a.m.n, she'd handled that one like a silly freshman schoolgirl with a crush on a senior.

If she was lucky he'd think she was incredibly immature. But Drew wasn't naive and he probably knew the truth, that proximity to him made her heart race and that his touch sent tiny shocks through her body. Every last one of them shot toward her lower abdomen where they sizzled and popped and sent off so much heat she thought she must be glowing. What the h.e.l.l was wrong with her?

Men didn't affect Lauren this way. G.o.d knew, Jeff certainly didn't. When Drew had run his hand across her fingers she'd felt so feverish she'd actually thought she was coming down with something. Then he'd pulled her against that broad chest, so close to his amazingly expressive mouth that she felt his breath on her hair, and she'd nearly groaned with desire and molded herself against him.

Lauren slid down the door and sank to the floor, holding her head in her hands. What was wrong with her? She was acting like an idiot. A silly, emotional-she nearly gasped at the sudden realization-she was acting like Meg!

Well, d.a.m.n it, she had a good excuse. Her nerves were frazzled. She had repressed her worry about her sister's marriage, then stepped into the chaos of Meg's life, complete with compromising photos and a near-abduction. And a s.e.xy as h.e.l.l nephew.

She took a deep, fortifying breath. She needed to regain her emotional stability. A warm bath and a good night's sleep would put things in perspective. By morning Drew Creighton would probably look as ordinary as any man, and be as easy to resist.

Her theory was smashed to pieces as soon as she entered the kitchen the following morning. Gerald sat at the table eating cereal, but her smile skidded right past him and stopped dead.

Shirtless and barefoot, Drew lounged in a kitchen chair as he sorted through a pile of mail, one jean-clad leg propped on the chair beside him. A mesh of dark hair sprinkled his upper chest, but did nothing to hide the well-defined muscles. Even his sleep-tousled hair reminded her that he'd just stepped out of bed and into those snug jeans, probably because they were handy and he'd been sleeping in nothing at all.

Now, there was a thought to make her pause.

Her gaze traveled back over his chest. Skiing and mountain climbing, huh? If this got out, it could put the health clubs out of business.

Lauren caught Gerald's curious look and did her best to channel her sudden hunger into a desire for food. "Hi!" She tried to sound perky and oblivious to finding a half-naked hunk in the kitchen. "What's for breakfast?"

Gerald used his spoon to point at the kitchen counter. "Cereal, m.u.f.fins, bagels, and fresh fruit. Coffee and tea next to the fridge."

"Sounds good. No wonder you eat here."

"I'm usually here before six and stay until nine at night. You bet I eat here." He flashed a smile.

She prepared a bowl of cereal topped with strawberries and blueberries, conscious of Drew's gaze on her the whole time. Daring a glance from under her lashes, she saw that the mail had been set aside and she had his full attention, he watched every move she made, his elbows propped on chair arms and hands entwined lightly over his bare abdomen.

Lauren's stomach fluttered, which only made her annoyed-with herself and with him. The longer he watched, the more irritated she became.

He waited to speak until she was at the table. "I've been thinking," he announced.

She raised her eyes to his, making sure to skim right past his impressive chest. "Was it difficult?"

Genuine amus.e.m.e.nt flashed in his eyes. d.a.m.n, he wasn't the least bit offended. How was she going to keep this man at a safe distance?

"I am am out of practice," Drew agreed. "A life spent chasing after snow bunnies doesn't lend itself to deep thinking." out of practice," Drew agreed. "A life spent chasing after snow bunnies doesn't lend itself to deep thinking."