She paused to close her eyes for a delighted shiver, and he quit rummaging through the drawer to give her a curious glance. "After what?"

"After we handcuff me and you enjoy that for a little bit, then it's your turn to be handcuffed."

"Not my thing. You sure you don't need help?"

"No, I've got it." She clicked one cuff closed and tugged it so he could see that it was fastened securely to the headboard. If he got hold of the cuffs now, it would be all over for her. But if she could play on his fantasies for just one more minute...

She made a show of opening the other end and placing it on her wrist while she talked. "Oh, I could change your mind about that. You have no idea. My boyfriend taught me this game and Drew was too straitlaced to try it, but Jeff says it gives him the most mind-blowing o.r.g.a.s.ms he's ever had."

She let the cuffs encircle her wrist as if she were trying them on for size, and peeked at him. He'd become still, his cautious gaze on her, not the cuffs. "Creighton's too straitlaced?"

"He's a prude compared to Jeff." Since she was trying to appeal to Pierson's deepest perversions, Drew probably was was too straitlaced for what she was about to suggest. Jeff would faint dead away just listening to it. too straitlaced for what she was about to suggest. Jeff would faint dead away just listening to it.

"He has me cuff him to the bed, and I pretend I'm a s.e.x-starved nymphomaniac who's going to force him to service me again and again." She let the cuff dangle, unfastened, while she talked. It didn't matter, because he wasn't looking at her hand. He was waiting to hear more, and she was making herself dizzy trying to think up an erotic scenario on the spot. "Jeff rattles the cuffs and pretends he wants to get away, just to turn me on. You won't have to do that because I'm already so hot for you." She smiled, trying to ignore the taste of bile. "And then I start doing things doing things to him." to him."

His mouth hung open as he listened. "What things?"

"Oh, I imagine there are a few things in that drawer I could play with." Except Pierson obviously wanted specifics and she wasn't sure what some of that stuff even was. "But he likes it best when I use my mouth."

"Uh-huh." He licked his lips.

"And my tongue." She licked hers, too, while he watched intently. "And of course, my hands. Jeff says he's never been harder in his life, and I go on and on while he moans in ecstasy."

Pierson was fondling himself as he listened, which was probably a good sign, but not something she wanted to see. "Then what?" he croaked.

"Then he starts begging for me to finish it, but I don't, I keep him close to the edge and torture him with pleasure. I lie on top of him and slide my body along his, focusing on certain parts of him, and finally-this is Jeff's favorite part-I use this special technique I learned from a woman I know."

"What kind of technique?" he panted.

"Oh, I can't give it away." She smiled, doing a mental search for something that sounded exotic. "She used to be a geisha in j.a.pan. She gives lessons, and you have to pa.s.s certain proficiency levels before you can learn the best stuff." She winked. "I was an excellent student."

She was so impressed with her own story she nearly forgot to finalize the deal, and from the dazed look in his eyes, it was time. "I'd really love to show you that. I promise it's like nothing you've ever experienced. But we can do my stuff later because I'm sure you can do me twice. We have time, don't we?"

He licked his lips nervously. "Maybe not a lot of time. Let's do your thing first." He climbed onto the bed beside her, and she scooted to the far edge, forcing herself not to bolt. Not yet.

"Are you sure?" Protesting seemed realistic, but tiny ripples of panic were swirling in her stomach, making her queasy. Time to end this. "But if you really want me to do you first..." She lowered her voice and did her best minx impression. "I can give you the best, longest, hardest o.r.g.a.s.m you ever imagined."

"Me first." He yanked the cuff off her wrist and snapped it over his own. Leering, he said, "I'm ready. Show me what you've got, honey."

She exhaled, a drawn-out, shaky breath that released all the fear and tension she'd been holding back. She slipped off the bed, tossing him a regretful look as she backed toward the door. "Sorry, gotta run."

Whirling, she gathered her robe and charged toward the door. Behind her, Pierson yelled, "Hey! You G.o.dd.a.m.n little p.r.i.c.k tease, get back here!" She heard a crash, then a string of swear words as she tore down the stairs, the key pressed tightly inside her fist. The cuffs had looked strong, but for all she knew they were just a toy, made to pop open under enough force. He could be seconds behind her. She didn't look back to find out. Pulling the front door wide, she bolted into the night.

And tripped over the crouched body of a man.

Somersaulting head over heels, she ended up flat on her b.u.t.t on Senator Creighton's front lawn, staring at the man. Staring at his gun.

Dark hair. The blond man's partner?

"Miss Sutherland?"

Breath seeped back into her lungs as she recognized the respectful tones of the Secret Service. "About time," she said, sagging.

She'd been rescued, mere seconds after rescuing herself. Lauren closed her eyes with relief, then tensed as a distant vibration rapidly turned into the roar of a car bearing down on the house.

Rubber screamed against cement, a long, high-pitched noise that raised the hairs on her neck at the same time as it thrilled her heart. The car flung itself into a ninety-degree turn in front of the Creighton house, rocking to rest on the gra.s.s, headlights blinding.

"Lauren!" A yell came from behind the lights.

"Drew?" She stood, squinting, holding her arm up to shield her eyes from the glare. It didn't help. Two circles of white filled her vision, with black to either side. She couldn't find him. Uncertain, she stared into the light, waiting.

Hurtling out of the darkness beside the headlights, Drew scooped her into his arms, crushing her to him.

"Lauren! Thank G.o.d, you're safe!"

Frantic kisses brushed her brow and pressed against the side of her head. Choking on a sob of relief, she tucked her face beside his neck, clinging tightly while aftershocks of fear trembled through her. For a few seconds she simply breathed in the smell of him, thrilled that she could know him by just that one sense, that the feelings he stirred were so familiar and so safe.

Drew's hands touched her face, coaxing her head back so he could look at her. In the bright light, she watched as the last jagged edge of worry disappeared from his eyes.

"Oh, G.o.d, Lauren," he moaned and took her mouth in a fierce kiss. She fell into it, opening to him, soaking in the need that seemed equal to her own. She wrapped her arms around Drew's shoulders, and gave back in pa.s.sion what she didn't dare say in words.

Words like I love you I love you.

"Creighton!"

They parted as Drew looked toward the house. Chapman stood in the doorway, motioning at Drew to come inside.

"Get over here. You gotta see this for yourself, or you'll never believe it."

He gave Lauren a puzzled look. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Well, um, maybe."

Her admission appeared to cause concern. Taking her hand in a firm grip, Drew pulled her along as he followed Chapman inside and up the stairs.

She had to admit to being curious. There had been that crash behind her as she'd fled, and the headboard had looked awfully st.u.r.dy...

She b.u.mped into Drew as he came to an abrupt halt at the entrance to his dad's bedroom, staring. Paul Pierson stood beside the bed, naked body pale except for the livid red of his face, furiously tugging at the cuffs holding him to the headboard. The overturned nightstand had spilled a variety of s.e.x toys across the carpet.

Chapman smirked. "Seems your girlfriend had a little fun at the senator's expense."

Drew turned amazed eyes on Lauren. "You did that?"

Lauren stared, then tried to hide a smile. She wouldn't have called it fun fun, but she couldn't deny responsibility. "I guess I did."

Pierson looked up at their voices, his scowl turning darker as he spotted Lauren. "You! You'll pay for this, you little b.i.t.c.h. Trying to humiliate a United States senator-you won't get away with it."

Drew dropped her hand and stalked toward Pierson. "I beg your pardon, Senator Senator," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "What did you call Miss Sutherland?"

Pierson turned on him, aiming his fury at a new target. "You heard me. And you're both going to hear from my lawyers."

Lauren couldn't resist a glance at the withered remains of his arousal. m.u.f.fling her giggle with a snort, she looked away quickly.

Her amus.e.m.e.nt didn't improve Pierson's temper. Heedless of his nudity and the handcuffs holding one arm back, he faced Drew with defiance. "I see what's happened here. The two of you have apparently conspired to embarra.s.s one of your father's political opponents. If you and your little s.l.u.t girlfriend think you can-"

Pierson broke off with a flinch as Drew stepped into range, drew his fist back and aimed at the senator's jaw.

Chapman caught it before the punch could land. With Drew's arm in a lock, he turned a cool look on Pierson. "You have a point, Senator. This incident is sure to have political repercussions. Perhaps we should take pictures to doc.u.ment it. Your wife could so easily misunderstand the situation, based solely on the facts."

Pierson's face drained of color.

Drew spoke through gritted teeth. "One punch, Chapman. You can say he hit his head on the nightstand."

"Sorry, no." Chapman released Drew's arm. "But I trust you'll understand when I send Miss Sutherland a large bouquet of flowers to thank her for this memorable moment. It more than makes up for your death-defying drive over here."

"Yeah, sorry about that last tree." After a glance at Lauren, Drew asked Chapman, "You mind if I take Lauren to her room so she can get dressed?"

"Go ahead. But don't take long, I have a few questions for her."

"Yeah, so do I."

Lauren had forgotten she was dressed in a robe, with only underwear beneath it. When Drew left she'd been fully clothed. Seeing Senator Pierson's condition, she supposed he did have a few questions.

She explained it to him briefly while she got dressed, then again in more detail for Chapman when they convened in the living room. Drew listened quietly at first. When she mentioned Pierson's hand on her leg he narrowed his eyes, and when she got to the part where he grabbed her arms, Drew jumped up and paced. By the time she finished she was glad Pierson had been taken away, because she didn't think Chapman could have prevented the beating Drew was ready to give.

He was furious with Pierson. She understood, was flattered, even. But the more distance she had from the event, the more excited she felt about her part in it. The proper and perfect Lauren Sutherland who had come to Washington, D.C., would have handled things differently.

Drew was the one who'd seen the potential for change in her; he even encouraged it. It was part of why she loved him. That, and the way he cared about standing up for what was right and correcting what was wrong. And his tight b.u.t.t and amazing shoulders. She might tell him about that part.

But not the rest. She didn't want to be one of those women he hated, the ones who used men for what they could get out of them. Because that sure was how it looked. She broke out of her self-imposed prison and wanted an adventure, and she'd grabbed the first man who offered one. But wanting to keep him hadn't been part of the plan.

"We still don't know where Meg is," she said aloud, not even knowing who to ask about it. The house had been crawling with FBI and Secret Service agents, a few of whom were still there.

Chapman looked up from his notes. "Doesn't matter. As soon as this. .h.i.ts the news tomorrow morning, they'll come in, you can count on it. They'll know it's safe."

The front door opened behind her for what might have been the thousandth time that night, but the voice she heard in the foyer was one she'd been waiting for.

"All you had to do was shoot him." Gerald was lecturing someone in a superior tone. "That shouldn't be difficult to figure out, even for someone on your rung of the evolutionary ladder. Don't you Neanderthal types excel at those basic skills-eat, sleep, and kill things?"

"You're the only one who came close to killing someone," Renke growled. "That shot could have hit your Romanian friend if it had been any higher."

"Not likely, Bozo, since I knew exactly what I was-Lauren!" Spotting her in the living room as she jumped up, he complained, "I've had the most awful night, consorting with emotionally stunted G-men and gun-wielding thugs."

Lauren looked appropriately shocked. "You poor thing, it sounds terrifying."

"You have no idea. You came alarmingly close to losing me."

She led him to the sofa where she sat down next to Drew, patting the cushion beside her. "Where's Mihaly?"

"Gone already. He took off in his car to scout some areas looking for Meg. It's driving him crazy that she's out there, probably scared, and with some other man." He grinned. "Isn't love wonderful?"

Not when it was one-sided. She was sure Meg's feelings for Mihaly went beyond fondness and friendship but was less sure of Drew's feelings for her.

"Hey," Drew greeted Gerald. "Glad to see you're alive. We've been waiting to hear from you."

Chapman laid his notes on a bookshelf and folded his arms. "Yes, tell us about it. I'd be fascinated to know why you ignored my direct orders and risked the lives of two other men."

Gerald leaned close to her, rolling his eyes. "These law enforcement types think no one else can plan an operation or capture a criminal. Like it's rocket science." Peering around her, he said, "Andrew, I hope that a.s.sociating with these men hasn't damaged your good nature and sense of decency."

Drew gave him a wry smile. "I think I'm okay."

"That's a relief." He squeezed Lauren's hand. "Sometimes he may act like one of them, but he's worth hanging on to."

Somehow, she kept smiling. Hanging on to Drew was not a topic she wanted to think about right now. A premature sense of loss pierced her heart at the thought of him leaving. He would go soon enough. She wasn't ready to accept it graciously and didn't know how she ever would be.

"I'd like to hear what happened," Drew told him.

Gerald settled into being the center of attention. "Well. You know we thought we were going to meet Senator Creighton and Meg. And when we drove by the area Senator Pierson had told us about, there was a car on the side of the road with its parking lights on. We thought it was them."

"Not exactly." Renke's voice came from behind her, and Lauren realized he'd followed them into the living room, probably to hear Gerald's version of what happened. Judging from his sour tone, he found it a bit inaccurate. "Not all of us were so trusting and naive."

Gerald clutched his chest in mock alarm. "Forgive me. Agent Renke, with G.o.dlike foresight, sensed a trap and saved the day."

Renke snarled, "I followed procedure and took precautions, which turned out to be a smart move."

"Yes, it worked out well when you surprised the bad guys and wrestled that gun away, saving Mihaly's life. Oh wait, that was me."

"a.s.shole," Renke muttered.

Chapman pinched the bridge of his nose, then waved his hand at Gerald. "Just get on with it. Skip the part we know and get to what happened after you decided to run amok."

"Huh. You'd think they'd be more appreciative," he confided to Lauren.

"I'm sure they will be when they hear they hear what happened," she a.s.sured him.

He patted her cheek like an elderly aunt. "That's so sweet, hon. You have faith in people." He peeked around her to turn his fond smile on Drew. "What'd I tell you? This one's a keeper."

"Gerald..."

Drew's warning snapped him back to storytelling mode. "Right. The guys Agent Chapman has been trying to track down are sitting right in front of us, and what does Mr. Big Government Agent tell me to do?"

He obviously wanted a response, so she shook her head. "I don't know. What?"

"Run away! Can you believe it? Of course you can't. Neither could I. I knew we had to catch these guys or Meg and Senator Creighton would still be in danger, and so would you."

"That's bull. We would have caught them," Renke began, but stopped at another hand gesture and head shake from Chapman. "Forget it," he grumbled. "Tell it in your own special way."

Gerald seemed to take it as a compliment, and continued. "I have to tell you, Agent Chapman was no help. Apparently he gets a little tense in a crisis situation."