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.