Hot Secrets Page 6

  “Screwed,” Luke offered helpfully.

  Royce exhaled and nodded, then explaining the phone call situation to Luke before adding, “That about sums it up. I’m screwed. I don’t see how I can tell her anything until I find out what’s behind the letters and the phone calls. And at this point, I’ve already written my death wish with Lauren. I don’t plan to let someone else write hers. She’s spooked and she’s not telling me why. When I know she’s safe, I’ll step onto the plank, tell the truth, and wait for her to push me over the edge.”

  Luke studied him a long moment. “Well hell. I guess I’m going out on the plank with you. Give me a quick rundown of the facts and tell me what you want me to do.”

  “We have the blackmail possibility,” he said.

  “Which is a logical consideration.”

  “But Lauren’s not only in a role to make enemies, she’s working a death penalty case right now that’s getting a lot of attention.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Luke said. “I’ve read about it in the paper.”

  “Then you know how much attention the case is getting.”

  “If this was about her case, why send the letters to the senator?”

  “Scare the father into protecting the daughter,” he said. “Get her off the case.”

  “And the calls?”

  “Scare her into listening to him.”

  “I like the blackmail angle better,” Luke said. “I assume you’ve sent the letters to your buddy at the FBI lab?”

  “Yesterday,” he said, pushing to his feet. “And I’m hoping he can give me something to make this fast and easy to put to rest. But I don’t want to count on that and have it not happen.”

  “Understood,” Luke said, standing with him. “I’ll get out my magnifying glass and start looking, with a little extra attention on the senator’s personal activities. And I’ll get surveillance on her office, home, and likewise for the senator, while I’m at it.”

  Royce gave him a sharp, approving nod, before he headed back to his apartment and inched his way closer to the end of that plank.

  Chapter Six

  Royce found Lauren sitting on his living room floor with photo albums spread around her. She turned to face him, smiling. “Oh my God, for a guy, you have so many pictures.”

  Royce wasn’t sure how to take that. “For a guy?” He moved toward her, sitting down after shuffling a couple albums to the side.

  Her smile widened. “Maybe you’re not the ‘bad boy’ your reputation says you are.” And then before he could ask about that comment, she pointed to a picture of him hugging his dog when he was a kid. “And you love animals.”

  He squatted down beside her and looked at the picture, grinning at the sight of his Golden Retriever wearing a pointed hat. “That was Scooter’s second birthday.”

  Lauren giggled, pointing at the picture. “You mean you made the cake for the dog?”

  “My mom did, but I asked her to. Scooter was my best friend.” He frowned. “He got really sick after eating that cake. My mom later informed me the bone was for him and the cake was for us.”

  Lauren almost choked, laughter bubbling from her throat. “How much did he eat?”

  His frown deepened at the memory. “The whole thing.”

  Lauren tumbled over to her side in a laughing fit. Royce watched her, and any other time, he would have laughed right along with her. But every second he was with Lauren, he wanted another, and another.

  He liked her, and damn it, he was taking advantage of her, hiding things from her for her father’s benefit. She thought he was a nice guy when he was nothing but a lying bastard. And God, what a bastard he was. She was making him crazy. She was adorable right now, and adorable had never been so sexy. He was hard as a rock, ready to rip her clothes off and make love to her. That he knew she’d blow off her lunch and let him, only made the temptation all the greater.

  He moved toward her, where she lay on her back, and lowered his body over hers, resting his arms on either side of her head. Lauren stopped laughing, suddenly serious. She stared up at him, her eyes simmering with expectancy. And trust. She kept giving him her trust and it tore at him. It tore at him because he wanted to deserve it, and right now, he didn’t.

  “Don’t kid yourself, Lauren. I’m no good guy.”

  Confusion flashed in her eyes, but only for a moment. “I’ll decide that on my own, but thank you anyway.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Innocent until proven guilty.”

  And he would be. He’d be guilty in the end of deceiving her. There was no way around it. The words were like ice water, dousing him with hard reality, and he pulled her to her feet. “I better get you to that lunch before you find the picture of my bulldog ‘Rocky’ dressed as a clown.”

  She laughed. “You’re not serious.”

  He sighed. “There’s a reason I wasn’t allowed into the canine unit.”

  And when she smiled at him, he knew he’d do just about anything to keep those smiles coming his way. He just wasn’t sure ‘anything’ would be enough.

  ***

  Lauren stepped into her father’s house feeling more than a little out of sorts. This thing, whatever it was, between her and Royce, was confusing. Of course visiting her father’s place always made her uneasy.

  Voices led her to the dining room where she found not only her father and stepmother, but to her surprise and discomfort, her stepbrother, Brad Foster. She wouldn’t have come had she known he’d be here. Everything about Brad sat wrong with her from his personality to his mousy brown hair, black rimmed glasses, and standard uniform of a pressed button-down shirt and a blazer. Brad looked up and smiled at her. It took tremendous energy for her to smile back. “I thought you were out of town, Brad.” Lauren entered the room as she spoke, a slight edge to her voice she couldn’t seem to contain.

  “I flew in late last night,” he said, his eyes following her movements.

  She hated the way Brad watched her all the time. “It was too bad you couldn’t make it to the party.”

  “Morning, Lauren,” her father said, settling his napkin in his lap and reaching for a crystal glass filled with iced tea.

  “Morning, Daddy,” she said, and then forced her attention to her stepmother, “Hello, Sharon.”

  Lauren sat down at her place setting, directly across from Brad, flipping her napkin open. The table was filled with an array of brunch items. Lean cuts of roast beef, croissants, fresh fruit, and potato salad. “I’m starving. The food looks good.” Despite the rather nauseating company, her stomach was feeling better, as was her head.

  With a wink, her father smiled. “Well then, by all means, let’s eat.”

  “Brad was just telling us about his most recent case,” Sharon commented, clearly aiming to take some sort of jab at Lauren. She always had an agenda.

  Brad leaned back in his chair, arrogance etched in his chiseled features. Lauren couldn’t help making a hasty comparison between Brad and Royce. Although Royce was arrogant, he wasn’t a snob. Royce was confident. Brad oozed an “I'm better than you” cockiness that drove her bonkers. “Just a little corporate trademark case,” Brad gloated with fake humbleness. “A few million in jeopardy. Nothing as exciting as the murder and mayhem Lauren favors.”

  Lauren was reaching for her glass when Brad’s words hit her. Her hand froze around the chilled drink. Slowly, she withdrew her hand, fixing Brad with a frosty stare.

  A slow, poisonous smile turned up the corners of her mouth. “I protect the public. Do you have a problem with putting criminals behind bars?”

  “I don’t think it’s appropriate for a senator’s daughter,” he commented dryly.

  Her mouth dropped open for a moment, then, through clenched teeth, she demanded, “And how exactly does your trademark war you’re litigating better serve the public than putting a murderer behind bars?”

  “I guess I don’t consider putting a battered woman in the electric chair justice for the public or anyone
else.”

  “You don’t know anything about this case,” she said, barely containing the urge to reach for her drink again and throw it in his face.

  “Brad, I think that’s enough,” the senator chided.

  “Yes, enough Brad,” Sharon added, but there was a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

  Lauren almost snorted. Of course it was enough. Her father had spoken. No way would Sharon have said a word until he did.

  “What is it with your dislike for law enforcement, Brad?” And she couldn’t help taking a jab. “You have some skeleton in your closet you don’t want discovered?”

  Brad flung his napkin on the table. “Now just one damn minute”

  “Enough,” Sharon said more firmly this time.

  Lauren and Brad stared at each other, and she made sure he saw the contempt she felt in her eyes. After several seconds, she pushed to her feet, “I’m not so hungry after all.” Lauren headed to the kitchen, filled a cup with coffee and headed to the den, her favorite room in the house, where she fully intended to try and calm down while waiting for the cab she was about to call.

  She entered the room of warm browns and heavy oak, lined with law books she’d spent hours of her life studying. It was an escape for her, a place of peace after her mother’s death.

  Setting her coffee down on the nearby desk, she turned to the books, eager to make a selection relevant to her upcoming trial, and temporarily forgetting her cab. She stood there, lost in the text, as she had so many times before. That was, until a faint thickness in the air made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She turned, finding Brad far too close for comfort, a mere foot away, at most. It was unnerving. She hadn’t heard him approach. She stiffened, knowing how aggressive he could get. He took a step closer, and she had nowhere to go but into the bookshelf.

  His eyes traveled a slow path up and down her body, and then settled on her face. “You know, I’ve always thought you were quite beautiful when you’re angry. Sometimes I get you fired up just to watch the way your eyes sparkle when your temper flares.” He stepped closer and reached to touch her cheek.

  Lauren turned her head to avoid his touch. “Don’t,” she bit out.

  He pulled his hand away, but his eyes felt like a melting ember on her skin. “We’d be good together, you and I.”

  “Brad, stop,” Lauren said, looking at him, wanting him to see the distaste in her eyes.

  “You’re afraid of how it would look,” he said, his hand going to the bookcase beside her, trapping her in a corner. “But you shouldn’t be. We aren’t blood relatives. You lost your mother. You found me. The press will eat it up. We’ll be everyone’s love story.”

  She shut the book. “You’re talking craziness, Brad.”

  His hand slid to her cheek and she slapped it away. Panic rushed over her. He never touched her and that he did now set off warning bells. She tried to step around him. He moved with her, blocking her.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she demanded, hands pressed hard against his chest.

  A wicked grin filled his face as his head dipped toward her. “You have, and I’d like to get into you.”

  She’d always thought he was a little off somehow, always thought him a little too like some of the unsavory types she put behind bars, but he’d taken it to a whole new level today. She inhaled slowly, more than a little experienced with dealing with people like Brad. “I’m going to give you three seconds to move out of my way before I bring my knee to your crotch and make sure you know it’s there. One. Two. Three.” He moved, laughing evilly.

  She yanked her phone from her purse, even as she walked towards the dining room to tell her father she was feeling sick. Of course, Sharon made a snide remark about ‘too much champagne will do that to you’ but Lauren let it ride. She just wanted out of the house, out of this house. And sadly, she wasn’t sure that wasn’t exactly what Brad, and Sharon, wanted. Lauren was the intruder, the outsider. She couldn’t complain and have it do any good. Her father wanted Sharon and he wouldn’t risk losing her; she’d learned that the hard way too many times to count. But ironically, neither could Sharon and Brad quite get rid of Lauren. And for the first time ever, Lauren felt done with this battle, done fighting for her home, for a family that wasn’t a family at all. In fact, she was so done with this, that she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t just let Brad and Sharon get what they really want. Maybe Lauren should just go away and stay away.

  Chapter Seven

  It was seven-thirty on the dot and Lauren sat at her kitchen table, her laptop open. A thunderous knock sounded on her front door, and a smile tugged at Lauren’s lips despite her nervousness over seeing Royce again. There was simply no doubt that he was her visitor, as there seemed to be nothing that man did in a small way.

  With a combination of trepidation and eager anticipation, Lauren stood up and ran her hands over her light blue, long-sleeved dress, where it tapered at her waist. Her gaze dropped to ensure her skirt rested properly just above her knees, then to inspect her strappy black sandals, somehow comforted to see everything was where it should be.

  She inhaled a deep, calming breath and then walked to the door and, without giving herself time to think, opened it. “Hi,” she said, her throat going dry even before she took in the sight he made standing there, somehow closer than she’d expected, while appearing bigger than she remembered. His hair was loose around his shoulders, black slacks molding a powerful lower body, his black button-down sculpting a stellar chest and arms.

  “Hi,” he said, gifting her with a sexy grin that all but had her melting into her tiled floor. “You look amazing, Lauren.” His voice was velvety soft and full of welcome male appreciation.

  “Thank you,” she said, her own voice a bit hoarser than it should have been, but then, it wasn’t often a girl had a man like this at her door, ready to take her to dinner while looking like he wanted to eat her for dinner. She stepped back into the hallway. “Come in.”

  A moment later the door was closed, and they stood toe-to-toe, the scent of him, spicy and male, wrapping around her, teasing her senses. Delicately, she cleared her throat. “I should get my purse.”

  “It can wait,” he said, his hands settling around her, pulling her close. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you all afternoon.” He nuzzled her neck. “So, can I?” His lips brushed her ear. “Can I kiss you, Lauren?”

  Her hands settled on his shoulders and she laughed softly, surprised yet again by this man. She didn’t remember Roger, or any of the other men she’d dated for that matter, ever making her smile this much. They darn sure didn’t make her warm all over like Royce did. “You’re asking? After last night?”

  With an easy step, he managed to back her against the wall, spreading his legs and pinning her with his body. “Last night was driven by champagne and emotion. Tonight is just about you and me.” His eyes were hot, his voice warm, gentle. He leaned toward her, intending to kiss her, and she couldn’t wait. She lifted up on her tiptoes to meet him halfway, but he didn’t let her have his mouth. He pulled back just enough to tease her with what might have been, what she hoped would be, and asked, “Is that a yes?”

  Lauren responded by reaching for his mouth with hers again. This time he didn’t stop her. At first he didn’t move, and for the briefest of moments, she felt nervous about her actions. But she’d come this far last night, tonight. No way was she backing down now. Instead, she pressed into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and ran her tongue across his bottom lip in a sensual move that, to her delight, made him moan.

  Suddenly, he was devouring her mouth, kissing her as if he were trying to possess her. And God, she wanted to be possessed. Her hands went to his waist, and she tried to pull him closer, but he wouldn’t move. He nipped her bottom lip and pressed his cheek to hers. “Dinner first,” he said and this time, he sounded hoarse, his voice raspy with desire. “Then… we’ll talk.”

  She jerked back and he laughed. “You have a real thing about
talking, don’t you?”

  He kissed her. “Get your purse and let’s go eat. Wait. I mean please go get your purse so we can eat.” He grinned. “I did say I’d work on the bossy thing.”

  She laughed. “Yes. You did. And good thing you added that ‘please’.” She turned on her heels, and headed to the bedroom, thinking that she might let Royce give her an order or two under the right circumstances, under the most pleasurable of circumstances. She smiled and snatched her purse, heading back to where Royce waited, looking forward to both dinner and what came after dinner in a way she hadn’t looked forward to anything in a very long time.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, with her arm linked with Royce’s, Lauren walked into the door of "Eden" and stopped at the hostess booth. Her gaze traveled the dimly lit restaurant, decorated in rich green colors with plants running around high ledges that lent to the tropical-island ambiance, that Royce said he couldn’t wait for her to try.

  “It’s such a cool place,” she murmured after he put their name on a list.

  “I thought you’d like it,” he said, but before he could continue they were greeted robustly by a friendly thirty-something couple, with a baby on the way, who not only obviously knew all three of the Walker brothers well, they owned the restaurant. With energetic, friendly conversation surrounding her, and Royce frequently touching her, Lauren felt a new kind of warmth fill her. She was realizing the significance of his actions. He’d brought her to a place that was so clearly a part of his life, after he’d taken her to his apartment and invited her to be nosy.

  “Let me get you two a table,” Shannon, the wife, a pretty, petite brunette, every bit of eight months pregnant, said before she grabbed two menus and motioned for them to follow her.

  “Don’t let Royce get out of line, Lauren,” John, Shannon’s husband a tall blond who looked more lethal weapon than the lethal chef she’d been assured he was, warned. “Bust his chops freely. You have my permission.”

  Lauren laughed and exchanged a look with Royce who quickly explained, “I call him ‘Shannon whooped.’ He doesn’t like it.”