"Hard to tell with you two," Chapman grumbled. "Yeah, we have a name, a financial advisor at the senator's bank. We're looking for him. The guy seems to have disappeared."

"I would, too," Drew said.

"We'll find him. In the meantime, we'll expect you to confine yourselves to this house until we find Senator and Mrs. Creighton, and resolve this mess."

"Gladly." She looked at Drew. "Right?"

He shifted his eyes toward her. "Right," he replied in a flat voice.

She smiled pleasantly at the agent. Chapman frowned at each of them, then stood and slapped a business card on the table. "Call me if there's a problem."

"We will," she a.s.sured him.

"I'll see you out," Drew said, rising.

He stood close enough to Chapman that she couldn't help noticing the difference between the two. Both were tall, probably six-two or -three, with a solid, athletic build. But Chapman's moves were abrupt and jerky, the motions of someone who spent too much time in a business suit, riding in cars, and sitting behind a desk. Drew's movements had the fluid grace that implied a well-conditioned body, used to physical exertion and tests of strength. Besides the fact that looking at him heated her from the inside out like a blowtorch, she wouldn't bet a dime on Chapman in any physical confrontation against Drew. Which looked to be about one sentence away from happening if the agent didn't leave now.

"Don't bother," she said, stepping between them and taking Agent Chapman by the arm. "You sit and eat, Drew. I'll see him out." She placed a hand on Drew's chest and shoved, which had no effect but to make him to look at her. She narrowed her eyes in a threatening glare, then tugged Chapman toward the foyer. Before she could get him out the door, Drew called out from behind them.

"Hey, Chapman."

The agent turned with a suspicious look. "Yeah?"

"We're going to make a trip to the grocery store to stock up before we lock ourselves away here. Just wanted to give you notice in case you don't trust us, and want to follow."

Chapman returned his steady look. "I'll do that."

"Whole Foods, in thirty minutes."

"See you there," Chapman sneered, and left.

As soon as the door closed, Drew's expression turned innocent. "What?"

"Only a man could make grocery shopping sound like a showdown at the O.K. Corral."

He smiled. "Do you have a coat with big pockets?"

It was probably easier to play along, rather than ask him to explain. "Yes, my raincoat. But it's sunny today."

"That's okay. Put a few changes of underwear in those pockets and any other necessities you'll need for the next few days. Maybe a T-shirt if there's room."

"The next few days? That's an ambitious shopping trip you're planning."

He took her hand and led her back to the kitchen. It was a simple thing, having his hand around hers, but it felt good. Natural. She closed her fingers around his.

"How much confidence do you have in our young Agent Chapman?" Drew asked.

She made a face. "Not much. He lost track of probably the most recognizable man in the country after the president and vice president."

"Right, and you can take the vice president off that list; he hasn't been around Washington as long as my dad. So do you want to sit around here and wait while those two goons chase their tails, or do you want to get in on the action?"

It seemed he already knew her well enough that he didn't have to wait for her answer. Picking up the phone, he punched in a series of numbers and waited.

"Gerald! What are you up to?"

While he listened, Drew smiled at Lauren and ran a finger along her cheek, seemingly more intent on her face than on whatever Gerald was saying. She shivered with pleasure.

"Why don't you wash that paint off? I want to ask you for a favor. By the way, did you know the Secret Service has our phone tapped?"

This time his finger went around her ear, then slid through a lock of hair. More shivers.

"Neither did I. Anyway, they want us to lie low here for a few days. So I was thinking I might be able to borrow that hot Swede of yours."

Hot Swede? Was he asking to borrow p.o.r.nography? She'd known he'd be more s.e.xually adventurous than Jeff, but it had seemed like she was all the stimulation he'd need.

While Gerald answered, or thought about his answer, Drew held the phone away and leaned close to her ear. "That's what he calls his Volvo," he whispered, then licked her earlobe while he was there. Her head tilted involuntarily with pleasure, rubbing against his.

"We're going to make a quick trip to Whole Foods to stock up. You could meet us there." His finger traced the line of her jaw, then traveled down her neck, hooking into her crew neck collar and pulling slightly. She wanted to rip it off.

Drew chuckled into the phone. "Yeah, I can pay in euros, you elitist sn.o.b. I'll see you there in half an hour. Thanks, buddy."

He hung up. "He won't trade for the Taurus. Paying in euros means we have to give him my dad's Mercedes," he told her absently. His wandering finger came back up to tilt her chin toward his face as he captured her gaze and sent her pulse racing. She held her breath in antic.i.p.ation.

Drew's voice lowered pa.s.sionately. He murmured, "If you stuff any sort of nightgown into those pockets I'm going to be very disappointed."

She shivered deliciously. A nightgown? Perish the thought.

CHAPTER Nine.

They found Gerald lurking among the melons, driving cap pulled low over his eyes, appearing to be in deep deliberation over which fruit to buy. When he saw them he lifted a melon in front of his face and whispered furtively around it.

"Are you being followed?"

Drew took the melon from him and placed it in their empty shopping cart. "No, they waited in the parking lot. They're parked next to the Mercedes."

Gerald looked disappointed. "Who are they?"

"It's Hawknose and Trenchcoat," Lauren told him, nodding sagely to emphasize the significance of her information.

His mouth dropped open. "Those two incompetent idiots are Secret Service?"

"Yes, and they're expecting us to buy a cart full of groceries," Drew told him, "so give us a good twenty minutes or so before you go out to the car."

Gerald snorted. "You can add another ten onto that while I berate that big clod for ripping my topcoat. The federal government owes me a refund, and by G.o.d, that clumsy oaf is going to get the bill."

"Just don't forget to buy some groceries first," Drew said.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry."

Drew dangled the keys to his dad's Mercedes in front of Gerald's face.

"Oh." Gerald pulled a set of keys from his pocket and made the switch. "I parked by the loading dock in back. And if that ape in the produce truck got so much as a speck of dirt on my car, call the cops. I already have his license plate number."

The side of Drew's mouth quirked upward. "Will do."

They started to leave when Gerald called out, "Hey, where are you going? How can I find you if something comes up?"

"I'm not sure where we'll be, but we'll check in with you."

Gerald leveled a finger at Drew. "You be careful with Lauren."

Drew's arm went around Lauren's shoulder and pulled her close. "Don't worry."

She broke away to go back and kiss Gerald's cheek. "You're sweet," she said.

He smiled. "It's one of my best qualities. Hey, what's with the pockets?"

She followed his gaze to the bulging pouches on each side of her jacket. "Clean underwear."

Gerald's eyes darted to Drew, then back to her. He leaned close and said in a confidential whisper, "The skimpy, s.e.xy kind, I hope."

She shoved a hand into his shoulder. "I take it back. You men are all alike."

A wicked grin crossed his face. "When opportunity knocks, be prepared. And girlfriend, you've got a huge hunk of opportunity standing over there."

She bit her lip. "'Bye, Gerald. Don't be too hard on the feds."

"Sorry, a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. You take care, now."

He set off purposefully toward the dairy section as Lauren rejoined Drew. Exiting through an "employees only" door, they found the rear loading dock. Lauren followed Drew's direction down a short flight of cement steps to the oil-stained pavement behind the store, and stared at the sleek silver sports car gleaming in the spring sun.

"That's a Volvo?" a Volvo?"

"Volvo C-Seventy. Nice, huh? Gerald's a car sn.o.b."

She gave it a long, appreciate look. "Bet it goes fast."

"Bet we aren't going to find out." They took a side driveway, then slipped into midday Washington traffic.

Lauren hadn't questioned Drew's escape plan, probably because her mind became muddled every time he touched her, and he'd made his plans while stroking her and her brain cells into rapturous confusion. With both of his hands on the steering wheel, she had a better chance at holding an intelligent conversation.

"Now tell me why we're playing hide and seek with the Secret Service," she said, tossing her raincoat into the back seat. "We're not the ones Chapman and his partner were supposed to protect. Do you really think they'll waste their time looking for us?"

"I'm more concerned with avoiding whoever followed us to the emba.s.sy and tried to turn us into road kill. And as for the Secret Service, they did follow us to Whole Foods. Maybe they think the best way to find Dad and Meg is to stick close to us, in case they try to contact us again."

She liked the idea of eluding whoever was trying to kill them, but Lauren had been hoping Meg would call again. "If they do try, we won't be at the house. What if we miss a call from them?"

His mouth set in a grim line. "I don't think we will. Something spooked them, Lauren, and they ran from the people who were there to protect them. They took a chance and called once just so we would think they were safely out of the country. I don't think they'll risk it again."

She nodded, thinking. Who was her sister so afraid of? "I wasn't enchanted with Agent Chapman, but when he thought I was Meg he seemed honestly frustrated that I wouldn't let him take me into protective custody. I don't think he was lying, Drew. He doesn't know why they ran from him."

"I know, I don't get it, either. But if we want to find them, I think our chances are better if we stay away from the Secret Service. And since the Secret Service might think their chances are better by staying with us," he patted the dashboard fondly, "we use Gerald's hot Swede to sneak away."

"Makes sense," she said, settling back in her seat. And by the way, we could get there a lot faster if you'd give this baby some gas."

He shot her a puzzled smile. "Is this a glimpse of your wild side?"

She didn't know what it was. She felt suddenly free, like she'd just been sprung from a cage and was eager to see how far and how fast she could go. "I like fast cars," she said, even though she was pretty sure her feeling had nothing to do with cars.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but we don't want to attract attention."

Too bad. But she could indulge that impulse another time, since she had no intention of going back in that cage. "So where are we going?"

"Take your pick. We could check the last place we know they were-the airport. If they never left for the Virgin Islands, we can a.s.sume the Secret Service made sure they didn't get on a different flight, either. And if they didn't fly out of there, they must have driven. We could try the rental car companies and taxis, which would take days. I'm guessing the Secret Service is already on that, and doing a better job than we could. They could also have called a friend for a ride. We could contact the most likely suspects and see if they know anything."

She nodded. "Time consuming, but it might work. What else?"

"Dana Zamecki, the TV reporter. How did she happen to be there with a camera crew exactly when Dad and Meg were trying to run from the Secret Service?"

She thought for a few seconds. "You think someone tipped her off. Who? Meg and your dad?"

"I think either Dad and Meg set it up to make the Secret Service and everyone else think they were leaving the country, or the bad guys tipped Dana off, just to cover that avenue. If Meg and Dad tried to fly out of town, it would be news, and they'd hear about it."

"Agent Chapman said another senator was being blackmailed first. If we could figure out who it was, maybe he'd have some idea who might be doing it, or where your dad and Meg are hiding."

He smiled and reached over to gently squeeze her thigh. "Good thinking. Now where would you like to start?"

Right there's good, she thought as her brain cells scrambled again. Or a little higher. Or a little higher. The warmth of his hand spread up her leg to settle between her thighs. The warmth of his hand spread up her leg to settle between her thighs.

Closing her eyes, she willed his hand to move upward.

"Lauren? Are you thinking?"

"Yes." She peeked at him.

Comprehension sparked the moment their eyes met. For one second Drew appeared startled, then his gaze shot into her like a laser, clean and purposeful. "Jesus," he muttered, jerking his hand back as if he'd been burned. "Tell me where we're going right now, before I pull into the nearest Marriott."

She nearly asked how close the Marriott was, but an irritating thread of common sense held her back.

"Let's start at the beginning, with your dad's friend, the other senator who was being blackmailed."

Drew released a sharp breath. "Okay. That means we go see Paul Pierson, the octopus you danced with at the emba.s.sy. He and Dad aren't in the same political party, but they've both been in Washington a long time and no one knows my dad better." He took a sharp right turn and began working his way back toward the Capitol area.