Page 18 of Emma's Element

“Are you alright?” she asked, returning his hug.

“God, Emma,” he groaned. “AmIalright? I should be asking you that.”

She placed her cheek on his shoulder, her lips mere inches from his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You scared me,” he whispered.

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “What? Why?”

“I thought you’d fallen. The rest of the stairs collapsed, and when I couldn’t see you . . .” He broke off, overcome with emotion.

“Oh.” She reached up and placed a hand against his cheek. “I’m okay, Marcus. I should have tried to tell you I was climbing back up on my own. I’m sorry.”

He nodded, and she put her head back on his shoulder. “I can’t seem to get my arms to let you go,” he whispered.

“That’s okay,” she told him. “Hold on for as long as you need to.” He kissed the top of her head then buried his face in the crook of her neck, squeezing tighter. She felt so good in his arms. So right. And he never wanted to let her go.

A growling stomach reminded him they hadn’t eaten yet. Emma giggled against him, her body vibrating deliciously in his arms. “Seems someone’s hungry,” she teased.

He forced himself to drop his arms from around her and stepped back. But he couldn’t completely let go of her and clutched one of her hands in his. “Come on. Let’s go see what I can throw together for a meal.”

They sat enjoying the dinner they had worked together to cook while keeping things light between them. He’d given her the fifty-cent tour of his place, and Marcus tried to see it through her eyes. It wasn’t opulent or grand, but it had been updated recently to an open floor plan containing a large kitchen with granite counters and an island that separated it from the dining area and living room. A wall of windows faced the lake overlooking what was a killer view during the day.

The bedrooms were just bedrooms. Nothing special. Even the room he was using as an exercise room was small but functional. The bathrooms had been updated recently as well. The master had a long counter with two sinks, and the large shower enclosure had multiple showerheads and was large enough for two. An image of sharing that shower with Emma suddenly sprang to mind. He fought to suppress it.

But even while they worked together in the kitchen making a simple pasta dinner, he couldn’t get the image of Emma?naked and in his shower?out of his head. He could practically see the soap bubbles traveling down her curves. He’d follow their path with hands and mouth, worshipping her body. He’d mentally had to shake himself several times.

He also had to turn away from her to hide his reaction to the mental pictures that wouldn’t leave him. He’d finally get himself under control only to have her fragrance reach him, which brought on a rush of blood to a lower extremity. That, accompanied with the memory of what she felt like in his arms as he held her tightly to him on the bluff, ensured he was walking around with a constant hard-on.

She had scared him to death, and the relief he’d felt on seeing her safe was overwhelming and confusing. He liked to think he’d feel the same way for anyone but knew he was kidding himself. Emma was different. She was special. When the day came when he’d have to leave and return to his life in LA, he knew it would be extremely challenging.

Emma could never be his, and he wouldn’t disrespect her by having a mere fling with her. He wasn’t that type of man, and she deserved so much better. When he left, he’d be a better man just for having known her. She would have to remain unattainable to him.

Meanwhile, if he managed to get out of his head long enough, he could continue to enjoy her friendship. He just couldn’t let his heart get in the way. He was going to have to reinforce the shields around his heart.

Emmaknewtheinstantshe lost him. After he’d held her so closely on the bluff, she had imagined they’d shared something special. Even recognizing it was foolish, she’d wanted more. So much more. But since arriving back at the house, it seemed like he was trying to distance himself from her. There was something in his eyes for a brief moment when he was showing her the master bathroom, some spark of desire, but he’d quickly masked it.

Even while they were preparing dinner, he kept turning away from her. She tried pulling his attention back by asking leading questions, but his answers grew more and more stunted. One-word answers. It was as if he didn’t want her to be there anymore but was too polite to ask her to leave. She couldn’t help the hurt that stung her.

After they finished their meal, she tried one more time to engage him in conversation. “How’s the screenplay going?”

He ran a hand over his brow, his lips pressed into a flat line; he sighed before answering, “It’s not.”

“What do you mean? Annika told me what you’d done so far was good.” When they’d all been together on New Year’s Eve, Marcus had asked Annika, a literature professor, to read over what he’d written so far.

He didn’t meet her eyes when he replied. “I’m not sure I want to do it anymore.”

“Why not?” Emma was stunned. That screenplay had been the whole reason for going through training with the Nighthawks in the first place. She didn’t understand why he would suddenly want to quit. Not to mention the hours she’d given to train him, could it all have been a waste?

“It seems disrespectful to Graham and the rest of you now. I don’t want your lives to be splashed across the media.”

“Marcus,” she began.

“It’s all right,” he said quickly, straightening his posture while shoving a hand through his hair to the back of his neck, where he squeezed.

“No, it’s not all right!” she insisted. “You can’t give it up.”

He finally looked at her then, anger sparking in his eyes. An expression Emma had never seen from him before. “Yes, I can. It was my asinine idea to begin with. I can do whatever I want.”

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