Kell kept his gaze moving on the area outside, aware that Ian was doing the same until they had Emily safely ensconced in the limo. Ian closed the door behind Kell then moved to the front seat of the limo with the Secret Service agent assigned as chauffeur.
Kell hit the button that slid the back window closed as he stared across the seat at Emily. Once they were enfolded in the intimate confines of the darkened area, he pulled his pack forward.
“I have a weapon I want you to wear.” He pulled the Velcroed holster and leg strap from inside the pack as Emily began to lift the skirt of her dress.
Silk and taffeta whispered over her legs as his gaze was drawn to them. Black stockings encased her legs, each delectable inch revealed until the skirt edged over a slender leather strap that held a Beretta Bobcat snugly against her inner thigh.
His cock jerked and became so engorged he had to grit his teeth to hold back the growl that wanted to rumble in his chest. Like an animal. Wild with the need to mate.
The sight of that gun, its walnut grip gleaming in the light of the interior, held so intimately against her flesh, was like a punch to his gut. It should have flashed a warning to his overexcited brain; instead, all he could see were black silk stockings, pale silky flesh, and a woman’s confidence in herself.
“Do you like it?” She ran her fingers over the weapon caressingly, the pale peach nailtips scraping lightly over the thin leather holster.
“Too much.” He had to clear his throat to speak.
“Then you should really like this.” The skirt dipped over the gun, rose above her other thigh, and he had to clench his fists to keep from touching her. Strapped to the opposite thigh, just a shade higher than the gun, was a small knife, carefully sheathed but definitely there, the hilt rounded and pointing to territory Kell hadn’t explored nearly enough the night before.
He hadn’t even known she was wearing the weapons. The location of the strapped holsters allowed her to move freely while not giving any of the telltale signs that she was loaded and damned dangerous.
“Does your father know about those?” He had to force himself to breathe against through the lust whipping through his veins.
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 Krieger. 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. H