Hot Secrets
Page 18
“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.
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.
