After finishing his meeting with the company's senior executives, James changed out of his suit jacket in the car. He wore only a white shirt, with the top two buttons casually undone.
He had just hung up after a greeting call from the American Secretary of Commerce when Barney, the driver up front, glanced to the left and said softly, "Sir, this is the home of that Miss Emma."
The row houses in Queens weren't particularly luxurious by New York standards. In this sprawling metropolis, where wealthy magnates were a dime a dozen, they belonged to the relatively ordinary upper-middle class.
The driver slowed down a little. James glanced out the window, and as luck would have it, Miss Emma Frost was pushing her way out the door with some force. She took the steps outside the house two at a time, her long legs carrying her down almost in a leap.
Emma hurried to the roadside, but gradually slowed, hesitating. She no longer looked as eager to leave as she had at first.
She lightly held the copper-wrapped railing with her right hand and leaned against it. She wore a red-and-white plaid skirt in the style of a Meister school uniform, with only a shirt on top. Her waist looked especially slender, but she seemed a little cold in the weather.
Emma rubbed her arms lightly and glanced up at the windows. Her pert nose flared as she took a deep breath, only to feel even colder. Her skin prickled, but then she suddenly felt warm as a very large suit jacket settled over her shoulders.
"You don't happen to have any abilities that make you physically stronger, do you?"
James stood beside Emma, draping the jacket he had just changed out of over her shoulders. With his hands