Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

Shay waited until Paul's footsteps retreated and she heard male voices conversing downstairs. Then she slipped out of bed, used the bathroom, and praise someone wonderful there was a toothbrush, toothpaste, makeup wipes, and night cream on the bathroom counter, along with some makeup and other products for daytime. She used all the nighttime supplies and hurried back out into the master bedroom.

She would make a bed on the floor and be asleep before Paul came back up. Then he would have to sleep in here and stay close to her. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but she knew he was a deeply honorable man and if he imagined she was scared, he would stay.

She was scared. When all the crazy imploded tonight, she'd simply reacted. Now it was hitting her—she'd been kidnapped, mauled, and her FBI buddies were missing, most likely dead. She was sick for Agent Turner's wife and daughter. If not for Paul, she'd be dead too. She tried not to think about that as her body shuddered, her palms grew sweaty, and her pulse sped up.

She searched the master closet, looking for blankets and pillows to distract herself. She found clothing and shoes in a few different sizes. One of the tennis shoes was her size. How had somebody gotten these here so quickly? She opened a drawer and pulled out a soft T-shirt and shorts pajama combo. Pulling off the dress she'd borrowed from Aiden Porter's airplane, she dropped it into the hamper and slid into the pajamas. Ah, they were fire. Comf.

She found a thick blanket on the shelf. Grabbing it, she rushed back out into the bedroom, right as Paul's tall frame cleared the doorway. He paused. She clutched the blanket to her chest, captured by the warmth in his brown gaze.

"I hoped you'd be asleep," he said, his eyes trailing over her, lingering on her bare legs for half a beat before snapping back to meet her eyes.

"Why? So you could ditch your girl and snooze in another room?" She arched her brows.

"My girl?" His gaze intensified.

She wished she could claim she was his girl. "It's … just an expression."

He smiled. "More teenage verbiage?"

"No cap."

Paul shook his head, leaned against the doorframe, and folded his arms across his chest. He looked so manly and appealing she had to lean against the wall for support.

"I intend to sleep on the floor," he said, "just as I said I would. I hoped you were asleep because you must be exhausted and overwrought from everything that's happened to you, especially tonight. "

"Oh. That's …" The word ‘bussin' almost flew off her tongue, but she was failing on the idea to cut the teenage jargon so he wouldn't think of her as a little sister. "Kind. Very kind." She swallowed down the emotion as she thought again of why she was ‘overwrought'.

She rushed forward, laying the blanket on the floor. "But since the sleepover party is my idea…" She pumped her hands up and down above her shoulders. "Party, party."

Paul grinned at her. Did he think she was fun or was she reinforcing the ‘little sister' image by teasing like she always did?

"I'll make a bed for me down here and you can have the king."

"No." Paul strode forward, scooped her off her feet, and turned toward the bed.

"Paul!" Shay's breath rushed out. This was the third time he'd literally swept her off her feet. No man made her feel desirable and appreciated like he did.

She leaned into his incredible chest, her hands wrapping around his shoulders. His lips brushed her forehead and she couldn't think straight. Her heart raced out of control as his lips softly trailed to her temple, then her cheek, then her jawline. His mouth left tingly warmth in its wake.

She turned slightly, praying he would kiss her. She'd forget about all the anguish of tonight when their lips met again.

Paul pulled back just enough that their lips brushed but didn't connect. Fire. Their gazes met and held, and the world stood still. A few delicious seconds passed.

Paul straightened, putting enough distance between them that their lips wouldn't accidentally touch .

Shay had no idea what to do or say. He seemed as if he were frozen.

"You can't just go picking me up all the time," she said, trying to act unaffected. "I'm not a light weight."

"You are to me." He gently set her on the bed. His gaze traveled over her, and she went hot from head to toe. He lifted her legs and the sheet and bedspread. Resting her legs on the mattress, he pulled the sheet and bedspread over them and clear up to her chin, tucking her in, his fingers brushing her chin and cheek.

He cleared his throat and stepped back, his body rigid and his fists clenched as if trying not to reach for her. "This is the way I left you, if I remember correctly."

She blinked up at him. "I'm sleeping on the floor. I'm the one who's acting like a … wimp and wanting you close."

"I'll stay close, Shay. Please stay in the bed. I'll go get more blankets and pillows and make my spot comfortable."

"I'd hate for you to sleep on the floor."

"I've slept in much worse places." He gave her a wry smile.

"It's a huge bed." She pulled her arms free and gestured. "Please. I'll stay glued to my side like Velcro and a strap." She tightened up like she couldn't move.

Paul smiled, but then he grew serious and shook his head. He backed toward the door. "Absolutely not. Please … it's a no." He pivoted and all but ran out the door.

Shay didn't move, listening to his footfalls and doors opening and closing. He came back a few minutes later wearing a comfortable looking T-shirt and shorts, with a huge comforter, sheets and a couple pillows in his hands.

He folded the comforter in thirds and spread it on the floor next to the foot of the bed. She would prefer him closer, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

"I can help," she offered, arching up.

"I'm good. It's almost four in the morning, Shay. Get some rest."

But she was keyed up. The short nap on the plane and in the truck had been just enough to throw her off, and with Paul around she didn't want to sleep. She wanted to talk to him for hours. Preferably after she convinced him to snuggle under these clean sheets with her and hold her very, very close.

No. She closed her eyes. That wasn't right and she knew it. She honored moral cleanliness and wanted to be intimate with only her husband in the future. The near future? Visions of her and Paul danced before her eyes, as enticing as Olympic gold.

She tried to peek at him, but she couldn't see him. It sounded like he was pulling the sheets into place. She closed her eyes and said a prayer, thankful for Paul, thankful for being saved, praying for her family and teammates and students and especially Turner and Meacham and Turner's wife and baby daughter.

Praying, she could keep her thoughts pure with this perfect specimen of a man mere feet away. She shouldn't have insisted he sleep near her. It would help her feel safe and comfortable, but though her chest was tight and stomach squeamish thinking about tonight, she was tough. She would've been fine on her own.

"Paul." She sat up in the bed, the covers falling away.

He stood quickly, his eyes flashing with concern. "What is it?" He rushed to her side, sat down next to her on the bed, and wrapped his hands around her upper arms. "Shay?"

She stared at him and her lip quivered. He was so good. Here she was needing to confess she would be fine, that he didn't need to sleep in here, and he was concerned about her.

His warm hands were on her arms, reassuring, strong, capable of protecting her from anyone who wanted to hurt her, and capable of making her realize she'd never loved any touch like she loved his. His gaze was full of her, invested, concerned.

She broke down. The opposite of reassuring him to go sleep in his own bed.

Hot tears stung her eyes and slid down her face. She wanted to pull him close and cling to him, but she didn't move. Just stared at him as she fought the tears, but the dam sprung a leak and then it burst. She could not stop crying, her face wet with her tears. Thankfully, she didn't let out high-key sobs.

"Oh, Shay." Paul tugged her close and wrapped his arms around her back. She cuddled into the strength of his chest and arms and let his T-shirt take the brunt of the faulty valve that couldn't seem to turn the tears off.

Neither of them said anything as he held her and she cried. It felt cleansing and healing. She'd had many a swim the past two months where her tears filled her goggles and sometimes she'd have to swim without eyewear to let those babies flow. This cry was very different. Paul supported her, cared for her, and she wasn't alone anymore.

She'd had Turner and Meacham the past two months, and they were great guys, but they didn't know her like Paul did. They didn't care deeply for her, and they definitely didn't hold her and give her comfort and strength and light up the dark night. Paul's concern and strong arms and chest did all that for her. He was a wonder.

"Are you a pilot or a therapist?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Pilot, definitely. "

"And a bussin' security stud."

"That's right."

She eased back and he let her go. His dark eyes studied her, still full of concern.

"Before I had my cry fest, I was going to tell you that you can go sleep somewhere else. I'm gucci."

He looked her over. "Please forgive me for saying this, but you don't seem gucci. Whatever that means."

"It means great, fine." She kept forgetting to put a cork in the teenage terms. "I'll sleep great now. Thank you for holding me while my dam broke wide open and spilled out all over your T-shirt."

"Anytime." He smiled at her and then stood.

"You've probably never had to comfort a weepy woman. On assignments with men all the time." She wasn't sure why she said that. Fishing?

"Most of the time. My fellow bodyguard Autumn is a woman, but I haven't seen her weep."

"She's too tough?" she guessed. Her gut churned. A fellow bodyguard would be the perfect woman for a man as tough and impressive as Paul.

"She thinks she is, that's for sure." He smiled, too fondly in her mind. "You two would like each other. She'd think your teenage lingo was hilarious."

"Oh." She didn't really want to like the woman who might be his girlfriend. Or was she reading far too much into his words and his smile regarding Autumn? Why had Paul brought Autumn up? She had been fishing and hoping he spent all his time with men. Could she blame herself?

"Well, you should scoot to another room. Don't worry about your too-needy security assignment. "

"Shay." Paul gave her an alluring grin. "You are all I'm worrying about for the next week." He walked to the end of the bed and lay down on his makeshift mattress.

Shay sighed. She felt drained from crying so hard after the most traumatic day of her life. With Paul close by, she couldn't feel afraid. It was kind of him to stay in the room with her.

She only wished he worried about her as something other than a little sister. She wished there wasn't a beautiful female bodyguard named Autumn that he'd smiled so fondly about.

Was Autumn beautiful? He hadn't said that. How could she ask?

She should've fallen into an exhausted sleep. Instead, she lay there, listening to Paul's even breaths and wishing there was no Autumn.