Page 46 of Emma's Element

She snorted; his lips twitched as if he found her utterly adorable. “As much as I would enjoy seeing that for some of them, there is no need. In the end, the Coast Guard did all they could to set the record straight. And even though they transferred me to a desk job, I actually enjoyed the work. I got to use my computer skills. I was able to work on some great cyber security stuff and enhanced my talents.”

“You hacked for the Coast Guard, you mean,” he teased.

She shrugged with a sly grin. “It’s classified.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and the knot she’d carried inside for seven months loosen. She’d meant every word she’d said to him. She may have judged him early on as an entitled snob, but after that first day together, she’d known differently. She started to truly see him for who he was and not who he portrayed.

She tried to fight it, but a huge yawn eventually escaped. “It’s late. You should change out of your gown and go back to bed.” Emma nodded and padded back to her room. Digging in her suitcase, she grabbed a cami and shorts and went into the bathroom to change. When she returned, Marcus leaned against the doorjamb to the room in low-slung sweats and a t-shirt. Her mouth went dry as her eyes roved over him. His arms were crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his shirt strained over his biceps. Her gaze swept over the broad, heavily muscled chest that she’d recently pressed her hands against. She remembered just how solid it was. She wanted to look lower but didn’t dare. Seeing the heat in his eyes as he, in turn, took in every aspect of her body, she knew what she’d find if her gaze went any lower, and she wasn’t ready for that yet.

So instead, she crawled into the bed, pulling the covers on top of her overly heated body.

“Are you okay now? Do you think you can go back to sleep?” he asked, his eyes searching hers with worry.

“Yes, I think so.”

She sat up against the headboard, a confusing mix of longing and exhaustion plaguing her. He moved to leave her alone, but then stopped to study her once more. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you survived,” he confessed. His sigh reached her from clear across the room. “I’ll let you get some sleep then.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t sleep much,” he replied.

“You could . . . you could stay here a little longer,” she whispered.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and shifted over in the bed to give him room. He laid beside her. She turned into him, her head on his shoulder. He rolled to his side, wrapping his other arm around her waist. She sighed and burrowed her nose into his throat, the spicy cedar scent filling her senses. She settled in his arms and was sound asleep in no time.

“So,youdosleep,”Emma muttered to herself the next morning when she woke to find Marcus asleep beside her. She smiled, watching him sleep for a moment. His features were completely relaxed, as if he didn’t carry the world on his shoulders during his waking hours. It was a shame people didn’t know the real Marcus Rayne. The kind and generous man. The loving man who would never ask but desperately desired to be loved in return.

Carefully, so as not to wake him, she got out of bed and went to get ready for the day. Everybody was meeting at the restaurant downstairs for breakfast before heading back to Lake Haven soon. While in the shower, she thought about how he’d held her when she’d cried. And about how her body responded to his nearness.

She still wanted him.

He’d left her . . . alone . . . to deal with the aftermath of those few images online. The press who wanted to know all about her had only stayed a couple of weeks, but the letters from his fans who either loved her or hated her continued. He’d left to protect her from all of that, but it had only partially worked. She wanted to put it behind her and begin anew with him, but there were certain obstacles she’d kept to herself that stood in the way.

She hadn’t told anyone about the threats that bombarded her, not wanting to worry everybody unnecessarily. They’d started a few months ago. Anonymous letters, mailed to her home. Emails that filled up her inbox. Every time she’d block one, another would pop up. The scariest ones were those with pictures attached. After the first few, she’d stopped opening them, deciding instead to save them to a separate file just in case.

The pictures had started innocently enough. Most were photos the paparazzi had posted of her. Those that had obviously been taken after all the press had left gave her pause. They captured her doing everyday things, grocery store, bank, sitting in Jolene’s with her friends. Each came with a description of how the sender would have tormented her at the moment the picture was taken. When they started describing her dismembered body, she’d stopped reading them.

The sender was escalating, and she should report them. She’d gone to do just that a dozen times but chickened out each time, unwilling to bring more attention to herself. Her computer skills would help her track the emails, and she’d been working on them in her free time. It was slow going as the sender knew what they were doing to cover their tracks, but she was undeterred. She would crack it eventually, then report everything she’d been gathering.

Maybe by late next week, she’d have some answers. Then she’d go directly to Graham and Ian, the sheriff’s deputy they often worked with, something she was dreading since she knew they would be upset she didn’t come to them sooner. But she didn’t think there was much to worry about. Marcus probably had crazy fans writing to him all the time; this was more of the same.

And despite all that, she still found herself reacting to his nearness. Longing for just one more of those intense glances he’d bestowed only upon her. She suddenly felt no better than one of his groupies lusting after the famous movie star.

Emma reasoned she would want him even if he weren’t famous. She wanted himdespitehis celebrity. She didn’t care about any of that. The money and fame meant nothing to her. It washim. The real him. The Marcus Rayne she’d seen glimpses of in moments like last night when he’d simply held her. The Marcus Rayne who’d brought lightsabers to duel with her. The Marcus Rayne who was so lonely and desperate for love and friendship but afraid of being hurt again. The Marcus Rayne who appeared willing to open himself up to her despite the fear of being hurt

That was the man she wanted to know better. That was the man she’d come to care for a great deal.

Finished getting ready, Emma went back out to the bedroom. Marcus was still sound asleep. She wrote a brief note thanking him and telling him he was welcome to join them for breakfast. Then she grabbed her suitcase and left his hotel room. She’d been unable to find her jewelry bag in her suitcase and assumed she’d left it in the room she was supposed to stay in with Jolene, so she headed there first.

The door to Jolene’s room opened before she could knock. A disheveled Finch froze when he noticed her standing there. “Ahh, the walk of shame. ‘Bout time the guy gets to feel what that’s like.” He turned bright red, and Emma burst out laughing. “Oh my God! Are you blushing? Wait,” she said, reaching in her pocket for her phone. “Let me get a picture. I have to document this. The day Finch blushed!”

Finch groaned and blushed even deeper. “Very funny,” he muttered before taking off down the hall.

“But I didn’t get my picture,” she called after him. He flipped her the bird over his shoulder, which made her laugh even more.

“Leave the poor man alone,” Jolene said from just inside the door to the room.

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