Hidden Agendas (11 page)

"I can't pay for all this," she finally muttered as he threw a handful of chocolate bars into the cart. "I'm a schoolteacher. We don't make big bucks here."

He frowned down at her. 'The groceries go on my card and are turned in to the expense account. It'll be handled by your father at the end of the month."

"Boy, are you in for a surprise then." She sighed. "Just give me the bill after you pay for it. I'll get some money out of the ATM. I know I don't have enough cash and I didn't bring the credit card."

She was chewing at her lower lip as she stared at the food. "You eat a lot."

He pushed the cart into the check-out bay and moved ahead as the cashier dropped the back bar and began pulling items toward her across the scanner.

Surely she hadn't been paying for her bodyguards' food?

"Hi, Miss Stanton." The cashier flashed Emily a smile that gleamed with braces. "Are you having a good summer?" She slid a sidelong look at Kell.

"It's quiet, Kimmy," Emily answered. "How's your brother enjoying his vacation?"

"He's doing great. Mom told me to tell you thanks for the tutoring you did after school let out. Mark's doing a lot better in reading now. He should be good to go to the first grade."

Emily nodded with a small smile. "He's a smart kid. He just needed some extra help."

"Well, he's taking to reading, I know that." The girl laughed as she scanned the items quickly while talking. "I took him to the library the other day and loaded him up. Is this your new bodyguard?" She nodded to Kell.

Emily's shoulders slumped with resignation. "No, Kimmy, this is my, umm, friend." She cleared her throat as Kimmy paused with the scanning.

She blinked at Emily, then turned and stared at Kell in amazement. She flushed when he winked slowly and grinned back at her.

"Wow," she breathed out in obvious admiration. "Miss Stanton, that is so righteous. And he's drop dead, ya know? Does he have any brothers?"

"Let's hope not," she muttered, barely loud enough for Kell to hear before forcing a smile and answering the girl with a quick "no."

"Too bad." Kimmy sneaked another look in his direction. "Really and truly drop dead, Miss Stanton."

"Thanks, Kimmy," she said as the final sale rang up.

Kell felt an edge of anger as her face paled just slightly at the cost. Pulling out his billfold, he handed the girl his credit card, but he wanted to hit something instead. It was more than obvious she had been paying for the food her house-guests consumed. And men, being men, especially the men Kell knew Stanton had hired, ate a lot.

"This one pays too." Kimmy looked back at him with new respect. "I'd keep him for a while if I were you, Miss Stanton."

Emily said nothing but as Kimmy handed the receipt toward him she reached for it. Kell beat her, smiling in triumph as he dangled the receipt out of her reach.

"There you go, show her how a real man takes care of her." Kimmy at least seemed to be enjoying it.

"I'm trying, Kimmy." He winked again. "She's stubborn though."

"Yeah, she's pretty tough." Kimmy nodded. "But she's killer cool, man. Don't forget that."

"Kell. Kell Kreiger." He reached his hand out to her, watched her blush prettily and accept the handshake.

"Kimberly Aikens," she squeaked. "And you are so drop dead." She sighed with teenage hormones and obvious pleasure.

"So are you," he said, chuckling as the bag boy sliced him a glare and Emily frowned back at him with disapproval. "Goodbye, Kimmy."

"Goodbye," she breathed out wistfully. "And please be sure to come back soon."

He lifted his hand in farewell as Emily shot him another disgruntled glance.

"Stop flirting with the check-out girls," she hissed. "It's disgraceful."

"You won't flirt with me." He grinned. "It's an ego boost."

"You are so wrong," she snapped out. "And I want that receipt."

"Forget it."

"Now."

He paused by the Trailblazer. "It will cost you," he murmured as he pulled her keys from his jeans pocket and smiled down at her in satisfaction. "Are you sure you want to pay?"

"You're fired!" she snapped.

Kell pushed the unlatch button and glanced at the bag boy as he began loading the back. He leaned down, watching her eyes as he let his lips touch her ear.

"Coward," he breathed softly against her ear.

Emily jerked back, staring at him as her teeth ground together in obvious annoyance. She was working her way toward a full-fledged temper tantrum that would beat the hell out of the helplessness he saw in her earlier. She was like a caged bird. The bars were made of love, guilt, and responsibility. She felt responsible for her mother leaving, for her death, and for her father's worry.

There was a woman inside her, filled with strength and life, clawing her way toward freedom with no idea which direction to take.

"I'm not a coward," she choked out.

"Prove it, Emily," he dared her as his head lifted and he moved her back from the Trailblazer enough to allow her to lift herself to the seat. "Prove it to both of us."

He closed the door before she could argue and moved to where the carry-out boy had finished loading the groceries. He was a kid in a man's body, all arms and legs and unfamiliar muscles growing in his lanky body. Hazel eyes glared at Kell in dislike as a surprisingly firm mouth flattened in anger.

"Pouting won't get you what you want," he told the boy, aching at the realization that when he had been this kid's age he had already lost a wife and child. He had already known the horror of being disowned, only to face his parents' offer to reinstate him in the family now that the trash he had married had been taken care of.

"What do you mean?" the youth snapped.

Kell stared down at him, silently showing his strength in the look in his eyes, on his face. The boy's gaze jumped to the side.

"Be a man, son," he growled. "If you don't know how, then learn how. And don't blame your girlfriend for being impressed. I'm a man, not a kid."

The boy glared back, but Kell could see the kid's mind turning, and sometimes that was all it took.

"That's your tip for the day," he informed him. "Because you beat the cart over every speed bump on the way over here. Think about it. Better yet, practice it."

He moved around the Trailblazer then, opened the driver's door, and stepped into the vehicle.

"You didn't check for a bomb," were the first words out of her mouth. "If I'm in danger, then how do you know Fuentes didn't rig the Trailblazer and it's going to blow up the minute you start the engine?"

He laid his arms over the steering wheel and stared back at her in disbelief.

"You watch too much television or read too many books. I haven't decided which yet."

She sniffed disdainfully. "My father was a Navy SEAL. Or did you forget?"

"It would be damned hard to forget that one," he assured her, smiling as he turned the key and the only thing that ignited was the motor.

She stared back at him balefully before turning her head and looking around the parking lot.

"Where's your backup?"

A grin tilted his lips. She was quick as hell, and he liked that about her.

"We have two Secret Service agents following us." He didn't mention Ian. The Secret Service was good, but Kell didn't trust anyone outside his group worth squat.

"Dad always said you should check things for yourself," she stated.

"I didn't see you lying on the ground and checking the undercarriage."

Her shoulders lifted dismissively. "I've had a bit of trouble figuring out exactly how to recognize a problem. But I'm working on it."

His eyes narrowed as he glanced over at her. "You're trying to figure out how to tell if a vehicle has been wired?"

"Seemed like a good hobby." She crossed her arms over her breasts. "I'm all about learning things.

Research, you know."

Lust slammed into his gut. Research. He would never hear that word again without remembering her sinuous little body straddling his lap and the sight of her panties dampening in need.

"Yeah, research." He could feel the sweat popping out on his brow now. "We need to do something about that hobby of yours, Emily."

She breathed out deeply. "So I keep hearing, Kell. So I keep hearing."

The groceries were put away, and there wasn't a spare inch of space left in her refrigerator or her cabinets by time they finished.

So much for her diet. The extra pounds she had been fighting with since she was a teenager were just doomed to stay in place.

They had stopped for lunch, a nice little Italian place with loads of calories, sinfully rich desserts, and a wine so smooth and delicious she had to force herself not to buy a bottle.

She was going to have a hard enough time paying for the groceries.

Maybe she should let go of her pride in this instance and tell her father to reimburse her for the eating machine she now had living in her house. The good senator owed her that much at least. The problem was, she hated asking him for money. Hated it.

For a while, he had deposited money in her account to take care of the eating needs of his goons, but the last argument they'd had over the amount he was depositing had resulted in him depositing nothing at all.

And she had been too stubborn to do anything about it.

Now, she was stuck with the object of every sexual fantasy she had ever known, and she would be damned if she knew what to do with him. She knew what she wanted to do, she wanted to lick every inch of his body. She wanted to drape herself over him and become a part of his damned skin.

And that was just so wrong. Because no man should be that damned sexy, so rough and ready that she was creaming her panties just looking at him.

After the last of the groceries were in place Emily moved around the house, staring at the closed curtains, the locked windows, and tried to fight the arousal building inside her.

Hell, she had already come in his face. It wasn't like pretending he was a favorite treat that needed to be licked was going to hurt her good "virgin" standing.

"I can take care of cooking if you don't like to cook."

She turned around quickly, staring across the room at him as he moved from the pantry and the small chest freezer stored back there.

His jeans rode low on his hips, a wide leather belt cinching it. Long muscular legs encased in denim drew her eyes, and the bulge between them made her mouth water before she jerked her gaze up to his amused green eyes.

"'I don't mind cooking." She pushed her hands into the pockets of her capris as she watched him move through the kitchen.

Muscles rippled in his arms and chest, emphasized by the snug fit of the T-shirt and the jeans that had seen one washing too many. They cupped his butt and his crotch like loving hands. The way she wanted to cup them.

She whirled away and stalked toward the patio doors only to turn back when she realized they were locked. She was in danger. She couldn't just stalk outside because she was in a snit.

She closed her eyes as something whispered through her mind. A shadow of a memory, perhaps? A voice she knew she should remember from that time Fuentes had held her in captivity.

"Do you think you can catch him?" she asked. "Fuentes, that is?"

"We'll catch him." Supreme confidence filled his expression and glittered in his cat's eyes as he watched her. "Him and his spy."

"Dad didn't tell me much about the spy."

"Fuentes has a spy, very high up in the government, that's supplying him with information. If we catch the spy, Fuentes will tip his hat in a game well played and leave you and your father alone."

"He will?" she asked suspiciously. "Now, why do I have trouble believing that? That was what he was supposed to have done when you and your team rescued us after the kid-napping."

Of the three of them, Emily had fared the best. One of the girls, the youngest, was still in a near-catatonic state from the drugs she had been given. The other, Senator Bridgeport's daughter, had died within days.

"Extenuating circumstances. Our information suggests that Fuentes's spy demanded this hit." Kell opened the freezer and pulled free the beer he had slid in there earlier. "All we have to do is keep you and your father safe until the rest of the team tracks down the spy, then you'll be okay."

"I don't remember you being there." She rubbed at her forehead, frowning as she tried to delve into the dark space in her mind where those memories lay. "I should have remembered you being there."

He twisted the cap off the beer and tossed it to the trash with a tight flip of his fingers as his lips flattened angrily.

"You were drugged, Emily. Whore's Dust affects the memory. It was designed to do that."

"It makes the victim beg for sex." She tightened her fists in her pockets as she faced him. "Did I beg you for sex. Kell?"

He stared back at her with level, calm eyes.

"Did anyone else see me?" she whispered worriedly. "Did I embarrass you?" Or herself.

His head shook once as a wry smile tugged at his lips. "You didn't embarrass me, Em. And you didn't beg me for sex. Didn't your dad tell you what I had in my report?"

He hadn't.

"He just said that I was brave." She shrugged helplessly. "I've wondered what he meant by that."

"Exactly what he said," Kell told her softly, his gaze softening with approval. "You were very brave. You gathered the other girls together where I told you to, and you trusted me to get you out of there. You let me do my job."

A swell of pride infused her. He wasn't lying to her. She could see it in his eyes. For the first time in two years something inside her loosened, relaxed.

"Thank you." She cleared her throat uneasily then, suddenly uncertain amid the tension thickening in the room. "I couldn't ask Dad—"

He nodded quickly before lifting the beer and taking a slow drink, as though he needed something to distract himself with.

"Richard should have given you my report," he said as he lowered the beer.

She crossed her arms over her breasts, hugging herself against the chill that seemed to invade her at the realization that her father held back much more from her than she had realized.