Hidden Agendas (23 page)

Thankfully, the skirt and taffeta underskirt flipped back over her legs quickly, shimmering and pooling at her feet with a whisper of sound.

"What do you think?" Her look was derisive.

Kell pursed his lips and breathed out roughly. "Damned good thing. One stroke tonight is enough."

He could feel the sweat popping out on his forehead, the eager, greedy throb of his dick, and wondered how the hell he was going to make it through that party without finding a dark corner to fuck her in.

That was the best protection, he thought savagely. Cover her body with his own and keep her penetrated. She kept him so damned tense and hard that bullets would bounce off his body like fucking Superman.

By time they reached the Dunmore mansion, he was in control again. Not that Emily helped much. She watched him intently during the drive, her gaze shadowed by her lashes, her expression thoughtful.

They would have to talk soon, he knew, and he would have to explain Tansy to her. It wasn't that he didn't want to explain his past, so much as the fact that his own actions still shamed him.

He hadn't protected his wife and child. Why would Emily believe he could protect her?

As the limo pulled up to the curving cement steps of the mansion and stopped, Kell pushed back lust, pain, and the growing possessiveness he felt toward Emily. He stepped from the limo, looking around carefully before handing her out.

The driveway was still clear, the party, scheduled for several hours later, hadn't yet begun.

* * *

“Emily.” Wilma Dunmore moved gracefully from the open double doors, her lined face creasing into a smile of affection as he escorted Emily up to her. "And who are your young men this time?" Her brown eyes twinkled with interest as she stared at Kell and Ian then glanced back to Emily.

"Wilma, may I present my escort for the evening, Lieutenant Kell Kreiger. And behind him, my bodyguard for the evening, Lieutenant Ian Richards."

Wilma grimaced at the word "bodyguard."

"Is your father still foisting those bodyguards on you?" She rolled her eyes at the thought. "He isn't getting any better with age, is he?"

"No, Wilma, he is not." Her smile was tight. "But we endure what we must."

Wilma laughed at that. At sixty-eight, she had learned long before that men will do whatever it took to have their way, Emily thought. Her own husband was a dominating force within the international banking business, and paranoid enough that Wilma had bodyguards more often than not.

"Come in. Come in. I'll get you some refreshments and we can go over the plans for the evening. I've kept everything simple, as you asked. I can't tell you how pleased I was that you asked for my help on this, my dear. I do so love throwing these parties."

And that was why Emily had turned to her for help. Wilma loved the whole process, whereas Emily had learned to tolerate it.

She glanced at Kell as they followed the spritely older lady through the house. He wasn't acting like a bodyguard. Ian was taking care of that for him. He was acting interested, just bored enough to prove he was a man, but infinitely polite as Wilma drew them into the ballroom where the guests would be escorted.

The Dunmore ballroom was huge. Chandeliers dripping with crystal hung from the high ceiling. It was large enough to hold hundreds of guests, and even more with the doors to the gardens thrown open as they were now.

The band was positioned just outside the open glass doors at one end of the ballroom. The cool evening air wafted through the cavernous room as it seemed to echo with the anticipation that put a bounce in Wilma's step.

The older woman had already dressed in her party finery. The lace and silk swished as she walked, her still slender figure exuding grace and pride.

Wilma familiarized Emily with the setup with precise details. As they were going over the last of the plans, guests began to arrive and the band started setting up.

Kell's expression hadn't changed, but Emily felt the watchful tension grow in him as the ballroom began to fill up, the caterers and waiters began moving into place. By eight o'clock the party was in full swing.

Silk suits, officer's uniforms, and a variety of ball gowns milled about the room. Champagne was flowing freely and the large marble patio was beginning to fill up with couples moving in time to the music.

Her father still hadn't arrived, and Emily was beginning to feel the effects of smiling at people she either didn't know, or knew too well to like.

That was one of the reasons she hated these events. She knew the backstabbers and the hangers-on and they drove her insane.

As her gaze swept over the crowd from one of the small gatherings she stood at, Emily felt a real smile begin to shape her lips as she watched a familiar form enter the ballroom.

"What is she doing here?" Kell leaned forward to ask curiously.

"Her uncle is Jason Maclane, the head of a multinational legal firm. She attends some of the parties at his request, gathers gossip, and relays it back. In exchange, he keeps her in the style she likes to be accustomed to," Emily answered. "Kira is nothing if not practical when it comes to acquiring her bling."

"Emily. Baby. This party is bursting at its seams." Kira smiled as she kissed her cheek gracefully then drew back. "And that bruiser behind you looks as good as ever."

The bruiser in question was watching Kira thoughtfully, his deep green eyes intent and considering.

Dressed in a figure-hugging black sheath that fell to the floor and displayed a provocative amount of breast, Kira looked fantastic. Her black hair flowed down her back in rich curls and gleamed with a raven's-wing sheen Emily had always envied, and her gray eyes sparkled with laughter.

"The bruiser thanks you," Kell commented wryly as his hand cupped Emily's hip and drew her back against him.

He had been doing that all evening. Little touches. Soft looks. Heated looks. And more than once, purely hot, sexy looks. But he always remained circumspect in how he touched her or held her against him.

"I see our brooding neighbor Ian Richards is here as well." Kira scanned the ballroom, her gaze moving quickly to where Ian stood against the far wall. "That man was not meant to be a wallflower, Emily. In no way, shape, or form."

Emily winced. She knew that tone. Kira was interested.

"He just has the darkest, brooding sensuality." Kira sighed, turning back to Emily with a secretive little smile. "Don't you think so?"

He looked damned dangerous. Like a man she wouldn't have approached for a million bucks.

"She thinks he's ugly as a mud stick," Kell drawled in amusement. "She doesn't see any man other than me."

His tone was teasing but Emily felt a small start of surprise. He sounded like a "real" lover. Like a man who intended to stick around for a while. A man who was invested in a relationship. Like a man whose heart belonged to her rather than a woman and a child he had lost years before.

"You're cute, but not that cute," Kira informed him with a flirtatious wrinkle of her nose. "Now, if you two will excuse me, I'm going to grab a glass of champagne and see if I can convince that tough hard, body to join me on the dance floor."

"Better find the whiskey if you're going to tempt him into anything." Kell chuckled. "Ian doesn't do champagne very often."

Kira waggled her brows, then with a little wave of her fingers she headed across the ballroom.

'Tell me, does she have a chance?" Emily asked thoughtfully as she glanced at Ian. He was watching Kira, his brows lowered, his expression forbidding.

"At what? Sex or love?" Kell asked thoughtfully. "Sex, yes. Love, I sincerely doubt it."

"I doubt she's looking for love." Emily sighed as she turned back to him. "What are you looking for, Kell?"

She wished she could take back her words. Wished she could erase the need to know.

His lips tilted in a lazy grin as his eyes gleamed with a hidden knowledge, an unvoiced emotion. "What I have in my arms, Em. What else?"

What else indeed.

She opened her lips to speak, knowing that the words would betray her own hurt, her own longing.

"Emily. Sweetheart?"

The male voice had her turning in Kell's arms, her gaze widening at the sight of the man standing before her.

He was taller than she remembered. Definitely better built and more mature.

"Charlie." She laughed in delight, feeling his arms wrap around her in a quick brief hug before she pulled back and felt Kell's hand tightening warningly at her hip.

"Charlie, this is Kell Kreiger, a friend of mine. Kell, this is Charlie Benson."

Kell didn't look pleased.

Tall, with closely cropped brown hair and laughing brown eyes, Charlie had definitely matured. The silk evening suit he wore stretched across his lean, wiry shoulders, and though he hadn't exactly filled out, he had definitely hardened.

"It's good to see you, Emily," Charlie said softly, his lips still holding his smile despite the glower Kell directed at him. "I was hoping you would be here."

"Your name wasn't on the guest list." She shook her head in surprise. "How did you get in?"

"Dad pulled a few strings at the last minute so I could surprise you." He pushed his hands into his slacks and stared back at her in approval. "You're looking good. Damned good."

Emily could feel Kell tensing behind her.

"Kell, Charlie and his father work in data processing and intelligence at the Pentagon."

"It's good to meet you, Benson," Kell answered, extending his palm toward Charlie.

Charlie took it warily, wincing only slightly before Kell released him. His look when he glanced back at Emily was wry. "Navy SEAL, huh? Did your dad finally talk you into one of his candidates?"

"Not hardly, Charlie." She kept her smile light, but she could feel Kell growing tenser by the second.

"Dad just wishes I would become so cooperative. Kell was my choice."

"She's a gift, Kreiger, I hope you realize that," Charlie said then, his tone warning. "If you don't, there are those of us waiting to snag her on the rebound."

Emily could feel the blush covering her face then.

"She has to rebound first," Kell growled. "If you'll excuse us now, she's promised me this dance."

Emily hid her smile as Kell led her away, though she did look back long enough to wave back at Charlie.

His expression was faintly regretful, with a gleam of longing in his eyes that pricked at her conscience.

She had kept up with him over the years, but this was the first time she had run into him at a party.

"Your taste in men is lousy," Kell remarked as he pulled her into his arms once they reached the patio.

Emily restrained another smile. "I picked you."

"Only under duress," he grunted. "I thought Wilma Dunmore stated earlier that there were no surprise guests?"

"There are always surprise guests." Emily moved against him, her head resting on his chest as he led her around the dance floor.

His arms were warm and strong around her, creating an impression of security, of peace. She hadn't had that before, had never known how calming it could be.

"We need to leave soon," he whispered against her ear then. "I don't want to stay too long and give anyone a chance to catch either of us off guard."

She felt his erection against her hip, the heat of his body swaying with hers, and let her fingers caress his chest where her hand lay over his heart.

"We can't leave yet. I have to stay at least another hour or so."

She was aware of him watching the room as they danced, she could feel it in the tension in his body, in the way his head moved against hers.

"Something doesn't feel right," he warned her. "Dunmore's wife seemed damned sincere about the fact that there were no surprise guests."

"And I told you, there are always surprise guests. Someone can't make it, they give their invitation to a friend. Someone crashes, slips in, and drinks the free alcohol and eats the snacks from the buffet while pretending to be part of the crowd. It's normal."

But it didn't feel normal. Kell could feel the fine hairs at his nape lifting in response to the closely developed instincts that had saved his ass until now. If Charlie Benson had managed to slip in, who else had?

His gaze roved over the dance floor as he maneuvered Emily until he could see into the ballroom once again. Benson was standing at the double French doors watching with a hint of longing. He lifted his champagne glass to Kell with an air of resignation then turned to the blonde standing several feet away from him.

Ian and Kira were standing just outside the patio doors, watching as he and Emily moved along the dance area. In Kira's gaze he saw something harder, something more calculating, than he believed she wanted him to see. There was more to her, he could sense it.

“I love dancing with you, but until your mind is actually on the fact that you're dancing with me, I'd prefer to find someplace to sit down for a few moments."

He drew back and stared into her soft blue eyes. God, he wished they were anywhere but here.

Anywhere but under the eyes of so many strangers and in possible danger. Someplace where he could hold her, touch her, still the unrest he could see moving through her expression.

She had questions and she wouldn't wait much longer to ask them. He'd prefer to wait a hell of a lot longer before he had to answer them.

He escorted her to the buffet bar. There, they filled two delicate china plates, accepted a glass of wine each, and returned to the patio and the small wrought-iron tables and chairs that surrounded the dance area.

He wasn't hungry. And he didn't need the wine. What he needed was an explanation for the vague sense of warning that kept prodding him.

His gaze swept over the area again, coming back time and again to Emily, as guests stopped to speak, laugh, and draw her into the gossip that seemed to be the spice of political life. There were enough people surrounding her now that he didn't have to worry about an assassin's bullet.

As his gaze moved back to the couples dancing on the patio, he froze.