Naughty By Nature

And then he raised a thick eyebrow as if to say, You did bite last night—which, of course, Vanessa had. Drawing a calming breath and hoping he wouldn’t guess at her mortification, she tried to ignore the stubbled jaw she’d nibbled and the slightly curved lips she’d caught between her teeth. The next thing she knew, she was recalling other, more private places she’d found tasty.

She couldn’t believe it. She’d never even had oral sex with Hans Breakman—and she’d almost married him. Another voice followed in the wake of that thought. Morgan thought I was Lucy! What am I going to do now?

You’ll think of something. She was Senator’s Verne’s daughter, after all. Sure, she’d been a party animal, at least according to the tabloids. And sure, she’d been booted from three colleges without graduating, but she’d learned social skills along the way. Still…what were you supposed to do when you’d slept with somebody who’d only slept with you because he thought you were somebody else?

At a loss, Vanessa wrapped a steadying hand around Lucy’s unengaged arm, the one Morgan wasn’t gripping. Vaguely, she realized her heart was beating dangerously fast and that she and Morgan were each holding Lucy’s dangling limbs as if intending to tear her into two even pieces.

Lucy read her mind. “Am I being drawn and quartered?”

“No,” Vanessa said, surprised at how absurdly stern her usually well-modulated voice sounded. “But Morgan’s right, Lucy. You’re not going anywhere. Not until we, uh, figure this out.”

Lucy looked uncertain. “What’s to figure out?”

Lucy had a point. Vanessa and Morgan had enjoyed amazing sex, but the whole time, Morgan thought Vanessa was Lucy. “Right.” Vanessa could barely find her voice. “This is a pretty clear-cut case.”

“Case?” murmured Morgan. “Of what?”

Mistaken sex, Vanessa thought, but didn’t say it.

Very slowly, Lucy was tearing her eyes from Morgan’s bare, hairy chest and staring where Vanessa’s fingers were digging into her upper arm. “What?” she said indignantly. “Are you pulling rank on me, Vanessa? Because if you are—”

“Oh, please,” Vanessa interjected, tamping down her temper and piercing Lucy with a long, level stare. “Give me some credit.” This was no time to argue with her best friend. Couldn’t Lucy see they were in a jam? One for which they were equally responsible? Trying to disguise her pleading tone, she added, “I just think it’s best if you wait while Morgan gets dressed.”

“Best for whom?” challenged Lucy, speaking as if Morgan wasn’t even there. “I don’t want to…watch.”

“Fine by me,” agreed Morgan, shaking his head as if to say he couldn’t believe their situation. “Why don’t you both keep your eyes shut?” Abruptly releasing Lucy, he strode around the room. Under the circumstances, Vanessa didn’t blame him for being upset, but she still thought he looked magnificent as he retrieved his clothes.

“I have to go downstairs,” Lucy argued in a faint whisper, keeping her eyes trained on a far wall. Vanessa didn’t bother with modesty, but remained studiously absorbed with Morgan as he searched for his briefs in the remaining bedcovers. Chippendale men had nothing on Morgan Fine.

“Your dad’s in the kitchen,” Lucy continued urgently. “Apparently Mrs. Bell called in sick, so the senator’s down there, making Pop ’n’ Serve biscuits—”

Vanessa’s knees were nearly buckling from the exemplary view of Morgan’s honed male physique. Still using her grip on Lucy to support her body weight, she managed to speak in a breathless-sounding voice. “I know. Daddy called up here last night, to say Mrs. Bell wouldn’t be coming to work.”

“If we don’t get your father out of the kitchen,” Lucy insisted, “you two are trapped up here. He’s going to see Morgan leave or realize you slept here. Have you gone crazy, Ness? You know how your father feels about—”

“Premarital sex?” Vanessa asked.

“He doesn’t even approve of postmarital sex.” Lucy huffed.

So true. This was hardly the first time the women, both staunch Democrats, had wished the retired senator was something other than a family-values Republican. Ellery Verne had gone to great lengths to separate Lucy from her boyfriend, Bjorn, and Vanessa from any living, breathing male. “He can’t find out about this,” Vanessa acknowledged slowly, still unable to tear her gaze from Morgan or release her hold on her friend. “But it’ll be okay,” she added. “Right? I mean, this isn’t the first time we’ve been in a jam.”

“I never would have guessed.” Morgan tossed the words dryly over his shoulder, his voice calm and too controlled.

“Not this kind of a jam,” Vanessa assured him, feeling a need to defend herself at his tone. “It’s not as if I sleep with every cute Secret Service agent who works here.”

The man didn’t even pick up on the hint, grin and say, “Do you really think I’m cute?” Instead, in a disbelieving voice, he said, “Really?” He’d stepped over the trail of condom packages and into his briefs, and she watched as he upended the overturned wastebasket, scrounged inside it and lifted out a cell phone and rumpled shirt.

“Lucy’s mother worked here since before I was born.” Vanessa found herself explaining as she watched him shrug into the shirt. “She was a single mother, so my father was naturally protective of her and Lucy, who’s three months older than me. Anyway, Mrs. Giangarfalo recently moved to Arizona, where she’s pursuing a career in real estate, but Lucy and I have always been best friends. We don’t get into trouble, not really, but we did grow up together, in the same house, and so naturally—”

Suddenly aware she was rambling like an idiot, she lost her voice. Morgan’s fingers had stilled on a buttonhole, forcing her to remember how she’d lustily grasped the shirttails and tugged, ripping off his shirt. Had she really done that? Yes, she realized. The evidence, a trail of small white buttons, gleamed in the red carpet. As she stared at them, tactile memories of smooth pectorals and the tangled hair between them made her palms tingle.

“And…well, I suppose we pulled our share of silly pranks.” Lucy plunged on with a helpful, nervous chuckle, her eyes following Vanessa’s as they trailed, one by one, over the buttons. Lucy edged backward, but Vanessa held tight.

“Innocent pranks,” Vanessa added, watching Morgan pull on gray suit slacks that were wrinkled beyond repair. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure which was the worse of two evils this morning—Morgan or her father. “Just stay another minute,” she whispered to Lucy, tightening her grip and trying not to notice how desperate she sounded. “Please, Luce.”

Lucy looked torn. Vanessa only used the nickname when things were serious. “This is how you repay me?” Vanessa asked, uncharacteristically stooping to guilt tactics. “I slept here so you could go out to the garage and see Bjorn.”

“This is not my fault,” replied Lucy.

Morgan had stopped zipping his pants. “Bjorn?”

He wasn’t supposed to overhear, but at least the conversation was taking a rational turn. “Bjorn and Lucy are engaged,” Vanessa explained.

At the news, the sexiest mouth she’d ever kissed compressed into a grim line. “She’s engaged?” Morgan’s zipper continued its upward trek. “To Bjorn? Your father’s chauffeur?”

Vanessa was wishing Morgan didn’t look quite so shocked about Lucy’s engagement and wondering what he’d think if he knew Lucy was also pregnant when Lucy started in with her own apology. “I’m sorry, Morgan,” she began. “I know I’ve been flirting with you. Pretty shamelessly, I admit it. But ever since we got engaged, Bjorn’s become distant, and he never gave me a ring, just a promise, so I’m worried. You see, something’s happened that will change my relationship with him forever, and so I need to feel closer to him before I tell him—”

“You were flirting with Morgan?” interjected Vanessa.

“Yes,” admitted Lucy. “But it didn’t mean anything, Ness.”

Because Vanessa wanted to preserve any remaining dignity, she didn’t glare at her friend. She did, however, use her eyes to ask, How could you? As soon as Morgan arrived, Vanessa had shared her intentions about getting to know him. “Some friend,” she whispered.

“I wasn’t going to do anything,” Lucy said.

“Let me get this straight.” Morgan was glaring at Lucy, and Vanessa felt a rush of pleasure she wasn’t proud of, since it was probably what Lucy deserved for her disloyalty. “You were using me to make your boyfriend jealous?”

“Fiancé,” Lucy corrected him as if it should change matters. “And not jealous,” she clarified judiciously. “Just more attentive. He loves me, and I know it, but as I said, I don’t have a ring. I’m afraid he’s getting cold feet. He hasn’t been…”

The flash of Morgan’s eyes stopped her. Seeing how it made him look as swarthy as a pirate, Vanessa suddenly felt bad for Lucy, and even though she was angry at the betrayal, she softened and decided she’d better smooth things over. After all, Lucy was right. Lately, Bjorn hadn’t been paying enough attention to Lucy, and after much discussion, she and Lucy agreed things needed to be on track before he was told about the baby. “Lucy and Bjorn have been together for some time,” Vanessa said, “and because my father suspects they’re sleeping together—”

“They are sleeping together,” Morgan interjected, sounding uncompromising, just as a government agent should, something that sent a thrill through Vanessa.

“The senator calls my room late at night.” Lucy picked up the thread. “Just to make sure I’m really in bed, because he’s afraid I’m sneaking to Bjorn’s apartment—”

“Which you are,” clarified Morgan.

“See?” Vanessa managed to muster a bright smile. “It’s all so simple. I sleep here sometimes and answer the phone, pretending to be Lucy. That’s how you and I wound up, uh, uh—” Her words stuttered to a halt, and she settled her gaze on the bed, which, she decided, said it all.

Morgan held up a staying hand. “I get the picture.” As graceful as a panther, he dropped to his flat belly and swept a long arm under the bed, looking for his shoes.

All conversation ground to a halt.

“Anyway,” Vanessa continued lamely, watching wistfully as he rose, sliding huge bare feet into polished black oxfords. Vaguely, she wondered what had happened to his socks. “I…” Staring at him, she forgot what she’d been about to say, mostly because she was vowing never to think again of the criminal lengths to which she’d gone to get him into her bed. Lucy’s bed, she corrected.

A rumbling bass, her father’s voice, suddenly cut through the silence. “Lucy? Are you up there?”

“Two words,” muttered Morgan, looking none too happy.