Free Sealed with a promise by Mary Margret Daughtridge Page A

subtle aroma of wealth filled the air. Emmie might be an inhabitant of this world, but she looked beneath the surface. She understood its rules but didn’t accept them at face value. And she was proactive. In addition to sexual attraction, the more he knew her, the better he liked her. Really, he couldn’t have chosen better.
      No one was around. Discreet signs directed visitors to card rooms, lounges, and dining rooms. This time of day it was apparent that all activity was in the opposite wing. A poufy white bow decorated a pedestal sign: Sessoms-Graham Reception-Crepe Myrtle Room.
      The door to the Crepe Myrtle room was locked. He took a thin piece of plastic from his wallet and sprung it.
      “All right,” Do-Lord said as soon as he returned to the truck. “Let’s get this show on the road-no, don’t move.” He forestalled her reach for the door handle. “I’ll come around and lift you down.”
      “I don’t like this.” Emmie, her chin at a stubborn angle, glared at him, when he’d opened the door on her side. “I don’t like feeling helpless.”
      Do- Lord resisted the urge to laugh. She looked so cute, with those wide uptilted eyes like blue lasers aimed at him by a ferocious kitten. If he laughed though, she’d probably spit and claw. He tilted his head to one side and accentuated his drawl. “If you’re shoeless, you don’t have shoes. If you’re heartless, you’re without a heart. I’ve never understood how receiving help makes people feel help less. ”
      “Then I don’t suppose you’ve ever felt helpless.” “You’re wrong. I’ve felt it.” The ice-cold burn of it lingered even now. “I needed help and didn’t have it. I was truly helpless.” He clamped down on the memory. He had almost revealed too much. He smoothly shifted the focus back to her, choosing his most understanding smile. “You, on the other hand, are feeling vulnerable. There’s a difference. Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of the Precious Cargo.” “Precious Cargo?”
      “What SEALs call the people they’re tasked to rescue.” She blinked in surprise. “I guess you are rescuing me.” She didn’t look happy about it.
      “Yes, ma’am, I am. And the more you just let me do it, the easier it will be. Put your arm around my neck.” He slid one arm under her back, one under her knees. “Is your shoulder okay with my hand here?” He wiggled the fingers of the hand on her rib cage to show her which hand he meant. His thumb brushed the soft underside of her full breast. His lower body tightened. It just kept getting better and better. With her chest covered by the sling and further concealed by the boxy suit jacket, he hadn’t guessed, but Miss Emelina Caddington was stacked. Much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bring his hand up to cup the generous weight he sensed. Not now.
      Emmie cursed the fact that she hadn’t put on a bra no matter how much it would have hurt to hook the clasp. She’d worn a bust “minimizer” since she was fourteen, ever since she realized boys, who didn’t want to be seen talking to her because she wasn’t cool or popular or pretty, snickered about her behind her back.
      As soon as he set her down Emmie sidestepped to put space between them. Between the time he’d agreed to help her and now, something had changed. The distance he’d held her at literally and figuratively had disappeared. She had a hard time believing he was trying to seduce her, even if that’s what his not-so-innocent touches and warm looks pointed to. She must be reading too much into it. In the past she’d made the mistake of believing a man was more interested in her than, in fact, he was.
      She’d known Blount, a colleague at the university, for months before they began getting together regularly, months longer before they’d had sex, and still she had read his intentions all wrong. And she’d certainly had reason to believe Blount, with whom she shared