Her head dropped back against the seat as she stared at the upholstered ceiling.
“We are so screwed. He’s going to demand you marry me, I’ll refuse, and he’ll have you demoted to ship’s barnacle remover or something.”
His lips twitched. “I hardly think so. He’s a senator, not an admiral.”
Her head lifted slowly. “You forget, my godfather is an admiral, Kell,” she whispered in horror. “And he’ll be at the town house.”
“Admiral Holloran.” He nodded. “Don’t worry, he likes my brash sense of humor.”
“YOU SHOULD REALLY BE MORE worried about this.”
“I’m not worried, Emily.” Because he had every intention of marrying her, just as soon as she came around to the fact that it was going to happen.
A man didn’t force a woman like Emily, he gently led her. Like the vixen she was, she’d dig her heels in and stubbornly refuse to breathe if someone were to try to make her do it.
There was no doubt that he and the senator, and most likely the admiral, would be having a hell of a conversation later though.
“I’m not marrying you!” she snapped. “I don’t know you. I don’t even know if I like you.”
“But you’ll go to bed with me?” He arched his brow mockingly.
The question had her pausing. “Well, I like you fine when you’re kissing me rather than playing games with me. Don’t think you have me fooled, Kell. Whatever your agenda is, I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
He had no doubt she wouldn’t.
“No agenda, sweet pea.” He smiled back at her, not bothering to hide the fact that he was amused by the predicament she found herself in.
Hell, she should have gotten her father in hand years ago. She had the ability to do it. And if she didn’t learn how now, then Kell was going to have to. Then he would have to soothe her ruffled feelings as well as the senator’s. And it would be a hell of a lot harder for him to soothe a senator’s ruffled feelings than it would be for her.
It was barely eleven in the morning when the limo pulled up in front of the town house. Ian and the driver were out first, flanking the door as Kell opened it and stepped out.
“We have a clear,” Ian murmured, touching the earwig communicator he wore.
Kell nodded then gripped Emily’s arm and helped her from the limo before moving behind her and following her up the steps to the senator’s brownstone town house.
The door opened immediately and Rogers’s tall, imposing form slid into view. He shielded Emily’s side as she whisked into the house, entering the large foyer and staring around with a sense of regret.
She had left here five years ago and moved to Atlanta to get away from the stifling atmosphere of her father’s over-protectiveness. Now, she was returning, and the smothering feeling that had driven her out was coming back with a vengeance.
“Emily.” Her father stepped from the study at the far end of the foyer, a smile creasing his face as he moved toward her. Behind him, Commodore Samuel Tiberian Holloran stepped into view, bringing a smile to Emily’s face.
Uncle Sam. He wasn’t really her uncle, but he was her godfather, her father’s best friend, and once an ally she could depend upon.
Behind her, Kell and Ian came to attention, only relaxing marginally when her father and the admiral returned their salutes.
“Hello, Daddy. I thought you weren’t staying here?” She stared around the foyer.
When her father wasn’t in semipermanent residence, then Fay didn’t come in from the little house they lived in behind the town house. But there she was, her white apron brilliant against the dark blue slacks and matching blouse she wore.
“I’m not, Emily,” he assured her. “But I thought you might need Fay’s assistance while you’re here.”
He gripped her shoulders firmly, planted a kiss on her brow then drew back with a frown, his gaze going to her neck before looking behind her.
“Say a word and I’ll walk out,” she informed him quietly, barely keeping her voice from shaking. “You start a fight in front of Uncle Sam and I’ll never forgive you.”
He gazed back down at her, his eyes narrowing as his lips tightened in anger.
She could feel the mark burning on her neck. It was a declaration. Even as she had checked it in the limo she had known what Kell intended it to be. A declaration of ownership. A male brand of possession.