Page 40 of My Tiny Giant
“Let’s both stay out of trouble.” I attempted a smile.
He put his hand on the thumb of my hand that was holding the purse. “Once this is over, I may take you up on your offer to make me some pants,” he said suddenly, a smile slowly spreading on his handsome face.
His changing the topic had calmed my nerves somewhat, and I felt grateful to him for that.
“How about the measuring process? The touching and the prodding?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
His smile grew wider. “I don’t think I’d mind the touching if it comes from you. I’m pretty sure I’d even enjoy it.” He winked.
“Be careful what you wish for.” I laughed out loud. “I don’t have what they call ‘the light touch.’”
The professor’s home rose in front of us as a cluster of illuminated glass domes. The entire structure looked like giant soap bubbles foaming atop of a skyscraper. The dome over the parking platform slid open, allowing our aircraft to land inside it.
I drew in a long breath.
“Good luck to us, Agan.”
* * *
A GAN
Lying in Emma’s purse felt very much like being inside of a Voranian coffin. Ravils buried their dead wrapped in a burial blanket. Voranians used long cardboard capsules for that purpose. Padded and lined with satin, they must feel exactly like the quilted interior of the purse he was lying in as Emma carried him into the professor’s mansion.
She had a microphone hidden inside the luscious cluster of flowers on her bodice, so he could hear what was happening outside through the speaker mounted inside the purse.
He caught pieces of conversations as she moved through the party, but he had no way to communicate with her himself. All available wearable communication devices had proven too large for him. It had also been decided that Emma shouldn’t be wearing one, for the risk of it being spotted in her ear. All he had on him was a recording device—a long, gray metal rectangle strapped to his thigh. He’d use it if he heard anything of value to record.
“Madam Representative,” a delighted male voice sounded through the speaker in the soundproof purse. “You look gorgeous! Absolutely beautiful!”
She truly did. Agan had been stunned, seeing her this evening. Draped in tulle and pale-blue satin, her medium-length blonde hair painted with iridescent streaks and decorated with flowers, she appeared like a morning dew spirit from Ravils’ ancient legends—breathtakingly beautiful and almost surreal.
“Oh, thank you, um...” Emma replied to the obnoxious male who had showered her with compliments.
She came here under the guise of a human representative of the Liaison Committee. The rare appearance of a human female at the Voranian event surely attracted attention.
“I’m Senator Caivuk,” the male rushed to introduce himself. “It’s an honor to meet you.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you too, Senator. Would you happen to know where our gracious host, Professor Voltuds, is?”
“He was just here a minute ago.” The male sounded like he turned around, looking for the professor. “He must have been called away. So, have you considered joining the Liaison Committee’s Marriage Program?” he inquired with undisguised interest.
“I would love to, but I’m already engaged to be married to someone back on Earth,” Emma dismissed quickly. “I’m on Neron strictly for work. Now, if you excuse me, I’ll need to visit a ladies’ room.”
“A ladies’ room?” the senator muttered, confused. “I don’t think there is a room just for ladies here.”
“A bathroom,” she explained, flatly. “Would you happen to know where it is?”
“Oh, the house AI is right there, I’m sure it’ll direct you.”
“Thank you.”
Agan released a breath in relief, sensing Emma move away from the senator. The eager interest in that male’s voice didn’t sit well with him.
Had she just said she was engaged to be married? Had she done it just to get rid of the clingy senator? Or was it true?
He growled through his teeth. The notion of Emma belonging to someone else had been tormenting him ever since they’d parted on Tragul.
Of course, the simplest way to find out for sure would be to ask her directly.