Listed: Volume IV (6 page)

When
she woke up, she felt comfortable and drowsy. She glanced over at the clock and
saw it was already four-thirty in the afternoon. They would have to get moving
soon if they were going to get to the campsite and set everything up before
dinner.

Reluctantly,
she rolled out of bed, glancing idly in the mirror and disturbed by the sight
of her tangled hair and sleep-flushed face. It was much cooler here than it had
been in Philadelphia, so she’d put on an oversized sweatshirt after she’d
gotten out of the shower, and it didn’t do anything to flatter her figure.

She
tried to smooth her hair down, and then she wondered what Paul was doing. Maybe
he was finally out of his bad mood.

With
this hope, she got up and padded across the room wearing socks but no shoes.
She opened the bedroom door and looked out into the main living area of the
suite.

Paul
was there, standing with his back toward her, looking out the window at the
view of the coastline. He was holding his phone to his ear with one hand and combing
his fingers through his hair in evident frustration with the other.

“No,”
he gritted out to whomever he was speaking to. “That’s not good enough. I’ve
told you for weeks now we’re on a very limited timeline, and I’m expecting real
results.”

He
sounded urgent, almost angry. Much more tense than with anyone else he’d talked
to all day.

After
the other person replied, Paul continued, “I don’t want to hear excuses. You
told me the resources you would need to make this happen, and I’ve provided
everything you requested. This is the most important thing on my radar. Do you
understand? The
most
important thing. You can’t possibly think I’ll
accept ‘we’re trying our best’ as an acceptable report.”

Emily
had stepped out into the living area, but now she froze. She had no idea what
Paul was talking about. She’d had no idea he was working on a project that was
evidently so important to him.

She
had no idea what it might be.

It
bothered her that he had something going on in his life—something so important
to him—that she was absolutely ignorant about.

After
a long pause, Paul made a rough sound of frustration. “That’s not good enough.
It is not beyond your control when I’m willing to provide you with whatever you
need to control it. Listen to me. You will
make this happen
.”

Emily’s
heart pounded frantically, and she wasn’t even sure why. This project—whatever
it was—was ripping Paul apart. She could hear it in his voice, see it in the
tense line of his neck and back.

“Fine,”
he said, after the other person evidently told him something more acceptable. 
“A week from today I’ll be expecting to see some legitimate progress.”

He
disconnected the call and kept staring out at the scenic view of the coastline
and the blue-gray waves of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. She saw him take a long,
shuddering breath, as if he were trying desperately to rein something in.

Her
heart went out to him, no matter how grumpy and unreasonable he’d been today.

“What’s
wrong?” she asked, moving over to him with an instinctive need to comfort.

Paul
jerked visibly and whirled around to give her a cold glare. “Damn it, Emily. Tell
me you’re there next time.”

She
ignored the complaint and reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. “Paul,
please tell me what’s wrong.”

He
gave a tight shake of his head and looked away from her, back out to the view
from the window.

She
slid her hand up to his face and made him look back down at her. “Paul,
please
.”

Something
softened in his eyes. She saw it, but he was still holding his body far too
tensely. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“But
I
do
worry about it,” she insisted. “If it’s bothering you this much,
then I do worry about it. Why can’t you tell me what it is?”

Paul
took another slow, ragged breath. His eyes devoured her urgently, but his
features were painfully impassive and his voice was strained as he spoke. “It’s
just a project I’m working on. A project that I’m…I’m very invested in. I was
really hoping there would be progress by now, but there’s…there’s just not.”

“I’m
sorry. What’s the project?” she asked, gratified that he’d told her at least
that much but really wanting to know more. Anything so important to Paul was
necessarily important to her too.

He
opened his mouth, as if he would tell her. Then he closed it again. He cut his
eyes away from her face. “It’s complicated. And I can’t really go into it.”

“Okay.”
She swallowed over her disappointment because he was obviously still so upset.
“Can I help at all?”

He
shook his head, and his features relaxed into a bittersweet smile. “No. Thank
you, baby.”

She
released a sigh and pulled him into a soft hug, overwhelmed by the compulsion
of her tender emotions and something almost like fear. She tried to process the
reality of how deep and complex and conflicted and haunted a man Paul really
was.

Comforting
him, taking care of him, being married to a man like him would never be easy or
simple. Not if she tried to do it for real. It would be hard, littered with
hidden landmines she would have to learn to avoid, full of long-standing walls
she would somehow need to get past.

In
some ways, Paul was almost simpler when she was sick. Then he showed her nothing
but care, protection, and tenderness. It was exactly what she needed from him,
and it was a real part of who he was at the core.

But
it wasn’t the only part. He was so much more than just that. He had so many
more frightening depths and mystifying complexities.

If
she’d been planning to be alive for more than a matter of weeks, if she’d been
expecting to spend months, years, decades as wife to Paul Marino, she might
actually be a little panicked by the prospect.

But
she could do it. She was sure she could be a good wife to him—a
real
wife. With a little more time and experience.

Not
that it really mattered. Three months wasn’t long enough to work through all
the barriers Paul had erected around his so sensitive soul. She would do
whatever she could to make him feel better at any given moment. She could give
him what he needed for
today
. And that was all she would ever be allowed
to do.

It
took Paul a minute, but he eventually returned her hug. When did, his arms
tightened around her with a surprising intensity. She hugged him more tightly
too, responding to the need she felt in his body.

When
he pulled away, Emily was somehow sure he’d forced himself to do so, like he
wasn’t allowing himself to take what he needed.

Her
heart was still pounding, and her hands shook a little as she watched him go
over to sit behind the desk with a mumbled thanks.

He
was going back to work. Or pretending to work. Or whatever he was doing.

But
he was hurting just as much as he’d been the minute before. She was getting
better at reading him, but it was still sometimes so hard to do what her intuition
prompted her to do.

This
time, however, the compulsion was just too strong.

So,
ignoring the sharp pangs of insecurity and nervousness that needled at her, she
walked over resolutely to the desk and plopped herself down on Paul's lap.

He
huffed in surprise. “Emily,” he began.

She
didn’t want to hear him object to her position. She was afraid it would make
her feel rejected. So she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him like
she’d been doing earlier. “Surely you don’t need to work anymore today. You
were supposed to be taking the weekend off.”

Paul’s
body was incredibly tense, stiff, almost awkward, but his voice was dry as he
murmured, “I don’t have regular vacation time. I’m still on probation, you know.”

“You
deserve a vacation anyway. You won’t be able to work when we’re camping, so you
might as well stop now.”

He
evidently ignored her dubious logic and relented to her attempt to comfort him
because he started to adjust her on his lap, until they both were more
comfortable. Then his arms went around her again, just as tightly as before.

They
just held each other for a few minutes. Emily felt the heat of his body, felt
the hard lines of his chest against hers, felt the tension in his muscles
gradually start to relax as his uneven, ragged breathing slowed down.

Her
body responded strangely as his body softened against hers. An ache of desire
clenched between her legs, growing even deeper as his body relaxed even more.
It was an inexplicable reaction, since there was nothing sexual or even
romantic about their embrace.

But
she was definitely becoming aroused from the intimacy, the closeness, the
entitlement with which Paul was holding her, and she shifted restlessly in his
lap in response to the throbbing at her center.

Paul’s
body felt softer now, except for the tightness of his arms around her. But, as
she shifted, she felt another part of his body that was no longer soft.

She
moaned throatily at the way the bulge in his trousers felt against her thigh.
She rubbed herself against it instinctively.

“Baby,
don’t,” Paul said thickly, after his breath had hitched.

“But
I want to.” She moved both hands up to tangle her fingers through his thick
hair. “Paul, I want to.” They’d only had sex the one time because she’d gotten
sick the following day. Since he’d claimed to enjoy it, though, she assumed it
wasn’t supposed to be a one-time event.

“I
know.” He eased backward in his chair, trying to withdraw from her. “But we
can’t.”

She
stiffened with a sharp stab of hurt and disappointment. “You really don’t want
to have sex with me ag—”

“I
do,” he interrupted, his body almost painfully tense again. “I promise I do.
But I can’t right now. I…I just can’t.”

Since
he sounded serious—and rather upset—she dropped her hands to his shoulders. She
also stopped trying to rub against his erection. “Why not?”

When
he glanced away without responding, her fingers tightened on his shoulders
reflexively. “Paul, you have to tell me.”

“You
know the mood I’ve been in today,” he explained hoarsely, his face twisting
slightly as if the words resisted being spoken. “I’m still in that same mood. I
can’t take you to bed when I’m like this. I couldn’t restrain myself. I might…I
might hurt you.”

Emily
gasped, astonished, overwhelmed, and—ludicrously—just a little bit thrilled.
She took a deep breath to process what he’d said, what he’d meant. Then she
said, “I don’t think you’d hurt me. I can…I can take what you give me.”

Paul
closed his eyes and looked away sharply, as if he were trying to hold back some
sort of ferocity, but his expression was sober when he met her eyes again. “I
won’t do it. Not when I’m like this. It’s just your second time.”

She
didn’t like the idea that she wasn’t up to any challenge, and she definitely
didn’t like the idea that she wasn’t able to offer Paul what he needed. But
part of her could realize the reasonableness of his concern. He had been
incredibly gentle and patient last time, and it had still been really
uncomfortable—she’d still been really sore afterwards. While she hoped it would
be better the next time, her body just wasn’t accustomed to sex yet.

She
drew her brows together. “You really think you’d hurt me?”

“I
might,” he admitted. “In this mood, I would want to be…rough.”

She
felt that hot, little thrill again at the idea of rough sex with Paul, but she
smothered it because this was real life with real stakes and not some naughty
fantasy. “I trust you, Paul,” she told him, with absolute honesty. “I just
don’t think you’d hurt me.”

He
made sound in his throat she didn’t quite understand and looked away from her
again. “Thank you. But I don’t trust myself enough to risk it.”

She
could tell he meant it, and it wouldn’t be fair for her to argue about it
anymore or make him feel guilty. So she was disappointed but strangely touched
as she climbed off his lap. “Okay. It’s really okay.”

“I’m
sorry.”

“Don’t
be,” she said with a genuine smile. She tried for a teasing tone to break the
thick tension. “You’re going camping with me, aren’t you? I know what a
sacrifice that is for you. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

*
* *

It poured down rain
that night.

The
clouds had rolled in as the day progressed, but it wasn’t raining when they got
to the campsite. And it wasn't raining when they set up their tent in a
beautiful private spot surrounded by trees and only a short walk from the
beach.  And it was overcast but still not raining when they grilled marinated
chicken breasts, corn on the cob, and peaches for dinner and watched the sun
set.

Paul’s
mood had improved as the day went on, and Emily enjoyed the evening very much.
While they were in a national park, it felt like they were the only ones
around. It was too late in the season for there to be a lot of people camping
out, and the natural beauty and the privacy were tranquil.