Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Chapter 5—IAB Charm School

Emmie Stockburne folded her arms and drew a deep breath, exhaling just before peering cautiously into the open door of the IAB office. Hopefully he wasn't there, she thought, and she'd be off the hook.

"I'm right here, Emmie. Come on in" he heard him call proudly.

I can do this. One hour of torture and humiliation and it will be all over for today.

Rick Stetler leaned on the edge of the desk, arms folded, watching and waiting. He tipped his head up and smiled.

"Well, I guess we better get started on this thing." Without expression she scanned Rick's office. "I guess this will do as much as anywhere."

He stood up and stood close enough to make her uncomfortable. "Okay. So what's first?"

Stepping back from him, she opened up her brown folder and handed him some stapled papers. "I copied my old Navy protocol manual. It has a list of titles, ranks, how you address them and in what order. Not too different from law enforcement once you get used to it. Just study that, and if you have any questions, just ask me."

Rick glanced at the paper and then at his charge. "That it?"

She shrugged. "Not really sure what else I could tell you. You know it's black tie formal, right?"

"My tux will be ready. Tell me what you'll be wearing."

Emmie turned up her nose at the way he'd asked that question. "My red ball gown. The one in the picture you keep staring at when you come in the lab."

"You heard the commissioner. One hour each week. Looks like we're stuck here with each other for—" He glanced at his watch. "Another fifty-five minutes. Maybe you better make sure I know my job as your escort. It's up to us to make the department look good, right?"

She looked at him dryly. Rick had her and knew it. "Fine. I guess we'll start with making the entrance. When we walk in, you'll stand to my left as we go through the receiving line."

He walked over and stood directly next to her. "Show me" he insisted.

Emmie now turned and looked at him. "You never had any kind of training like this?"

"Charm school's not part of police trainig. Now why don't you take my arm and show me?" He thrust his right elbow out to her. She stood back and hooked her left arm under his. "Fine. First thing will be the receiving line. As I said, dignitaries will be lined up to greet us as we enter the ballroom, highest through lowest rank. As we meet each one, you will first introduce yourself as Sergeant Rick Stetler of the Miami-Dade Police Department, escorting Emmalyn Stockburne. You'll shake hands with every one of them, and then I will." She let go of his elbow. "There's really no reason for me to take your arm right now."

Rick now turned and faced her. "Will they have dancing?" he wanted to know.

"Most likely."

Rick grinned as he held out his hands in her direction. "Come on, Emmie. Practice? I'm not that good."

Emmie looked at his outstretched hands as she backed up and leaned against his desk. "Sir, I get the feeling you aren't taking this very seriously."

Rick was obviously miffed by her challenge. He pulled back his arms. "I'm asking you questions! You're the one who wants to just hand me notes and leave!"

"Well I was hoping you'd look them over! You have to know this stuff backwards and forwards. Just like your police academy training!"

"Fine. But like I said, we need to make a good impression, and it won't happen if I keep stepping on your feet now, will it?"

She sighed. He was going to milk this for all it was worth. Nonetheless, she would put off having to touch him for as long as possible. "Okay, fine. First, tell me your responsibility as my official escort to this thing."

"Take you there, introduce you, politick, protect you, and get you home safely."

"Close, Sir. It's like the Commissioner said. You're my guide, my companion, and, to a degree, my bodyguard. Are you up to that responsibility?"

He glared at her. "You're not going into combat, Emmie. It's a gala. And I'm trying very hard to be your companion, if you'll let me. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe."

"You know about the Schwender case, right? Logan's on the loose, and nobody's really safe."

Rick dipped his head at her and raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point. "Since I'm making all the phone calls to Washington? Yeah, I think I know what's going on. Like it or not, Emmie, you're stuck here with me, so you might as well make sure I can do my part to make you look good, too." He smiled as he held his hands out to her again. "Now come on. We still have over half an hour."

Emmie closed her eyes and bit her lip to hold back the profanities. He wasn't going to leave this alone. "Okay, Sir. I guess I can show you a basic ballroom step." She approached him and reached out to position his arms. In a split second she found herself smashed up against him, her eyes in his neck.

"Now what?" she barely heard him say.

As soon as she caught her breath, she calmly reached behind her and pried herself loose from his waist. "I'm not your wife! Here. Just follow me, okay? I'm trained in this. You just stand where you are, and I'll position you. Okay?"

Taking a deep breath, she carefully and delicately positioned his right hand on the small of her back and took the other in her right while putting her left hand on his shoulder. "These are just the basics. My whole right side will be touching your whole right side, and you step opposite of me." Carefully she positioned herself so their bodies touched. She looked up at him dryly. "And don't get your hopes up. These are the only places you will ever touch me! Remember, I'll guide you. Eventually you'll have to lead me." She turned slightly, gently pulling on his hand. "Sir, just go with it. I'll turn you by pulling or pushing on your left hand, and you follow."

There were no other sounds except their shoes patting on the carpet as Emmie guided Rick carefully through a basic four-step. Much to her surprise, she felt him start to loosen up and follow her. "Sir, you're actually picking this up pretty well. Now follow me through a turn." She pulled gently on his hand. "Not bad. Go with the flow." She tried to ignore him while she remembered her debutante training.

"Am I doing this right, Emmie?" Rick seemed to whisper at her.

"Now that you're not stepping on me, Sir" was all she could say. She felt him firm up his grip on her back and her hand. "Keep your grip loose. I don't need you sweating on me." She was going to keep the IAB agent at as safe a distance as possible. Out of the corner of her eye He seemed to smile, making her skin crawl. Emmie would have enjoyed this if it had been someone else, she thought. Anyone else.

Emmie turned her left wrist on Rick's shoulder and glanced at her watch. "Sorry, but the hour's up, and I have a heavy caseload." With that she immediately reached down and wrenched herself loose from him.

"Practice again next week?"

"Only if you can tell me those ranks and how to address them. Gotta run. See you later."

The computer tech held herself and shuddered while staring at her console. Rick Stetler probably got his cheap thrills for the day, she thought as she squeezed some hand sanitizer into her palm and rubbed it into her hands. "I feel dirty" she muttered to herself.

Ryan Wolfe stepped into the computer lab. "Hey Emmie. Got the Stevenson file?"

Emmie looked up and smiled at him. "Oh, hi Ryan. Yeah. Just finished it up this morning. Hang on." She spun around and pulled the brown folder out of the stack behind her. "Please ignore the mess. Haven't had much of a chance to clean up in here, and with the Schwender case on top of everything else going on, I also get to play liaison with the Navy JAG Corps. They're friends of mine, so it could be worse."

Ryan quietly grabbed Tyler's chair and sat down facing her. "I heard they paired you with Stetler for the gala. That true?" he nearly whispered.

"Unfortunately. In fact I just came from our first 'grooming' session. The department put it on me to make sure he knows what he's supposed to do."

"Seems like Stetler just won't leave you alone."

She smacked her hands on the desk. "God, Ryan! I don't believe for a minute that they went through any screening process! If they did, it was a gesture!"

Ryan glanced around again before leaning toward her. "Can I tell you something?" he said quietly.

"Sure."

"I applied to be your escort."

Emmie smiled to him shyly. "I would have loved that. I know you would've been great."

"Guess I'm just not political enough."

"Maybe not, but I'd feel safe around you."

Ryan grabbed the brown folder and stood up. "Well, better get back to Trace. We're all working late."

"Yeah, so are we. Scares me to think I spent four years in Quantico for this. Hey, talk to you later, Ryan."

"See you later, Emmie."