Read Listed: Volume I for Free Online

narrow-eyed look.
    “So
I can’t even go to the bathroom without my devoted fiancé flirting with the
secretaries?”
    Paul’s
mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t flirting. I was worried about you. Are you all
right?”
    “Of
course. What are you talking about?”
    For
no reason that made any sense, Paul felt rattled and frustrated all of a
sudden, and he was tempted to make a snide comment that he knew would rile her
up. He bit it back, however, telling himself that no good would come from
picking a fight with Emily when they were getting married the following day and
she only had three months to live.
    That
thought made his earlier concern return, and he scanned her carefully as she
reached to punch the elevator's down button.
    She’d
been a little pale all day, but he thought she looked even paler now. He
noticed the delicate skin under her eyes was darker than it should be, and her
face was dewy, as if she’d been perspiring. Since the temperature in this suite
was set very low, he couldn’t believe she would have gotten too hot.
    “What
are you staring at?” she asked, giving him a decidedly grouchy look.
    He
ignored the question and reached his hand over to feel her forehead.
    She
jerked away from his touch before he could get a sense of how hot she was.
“What the hell are you doing?”
    Torn
between worry and deep annoyance at her irrational behavior, Paul gritted out,
“What do you think I'm doing? I’m checking on you. Do you have a fever?”
    “No.”
She stood a few feet away from him, breathing heavily and obviously trying to
compose her expression. “I’m fine.”
    “You
don’t look fine. You look like you might be sick.”
    “Thanks
a lot,” she muttered sarcastically. “And I tried so hard to be beautiful for
you today."
    Then
she took a deep breath, likely forcing herself to be reasonable. “I’m not sick,
Paul. I don’t have a fever. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t treat me like
an invalid. I wanted to marry you partly because I thought you would treat me
like a regular person and not like I was sick all the time.  I want to enjoy
these last months—not be coddled and trapped in a hospital.”
    Paul
forced down a swell of frustration at her stubbornness and of resentment that
she evidently thought he was so heartless that he wouldn't care whether she was
sick or not. “I have no intention of keeping you in a hospital, and I’ll do
everything I can to make sure you enjoy these three months. But part of my
responsibility is to take care of you.”
    When
she opened her mouth to object, he pressed on, shaping his words to address the
objection he was sure she would have given, “I do need to take care of
you, Emily, if only to ensure that you’re able to testify against my father.”
    His
last comment seemed to silence her arguments, and she stared up at the digital
numbers which showed both elevators were still on the lower floors of the
building. He didn’t think she was really seeing the numbers, however—she just
didn’t want to look at him.
    “Emily?”
he prompted, wishing his voice wasn’t quite so thick.
    She
cut her eyes back to him. She twisted her hands together, and he realized
suddenly they were trembling.
    He
felt a sharp stab of concern. Emily looked small and pale and upset. He took an
instinctive step closer to her.
    “I
don’t have a fever,” she insisted. “I would know if I did.”
    “Then
you won’t mind if I check for myself.”
    Her
jaw was set stubbornly, but she gritted out, “Fine.”
    He
stepped in front of her and reached out again to place his palm on her
forehead. He was vaguely surprised and very relieved when she didn’t feel
unusually hot. He slid his hand down to her cheek and then back up to her head,
studying her face closely.
    “See,”
she said, “I told you. I’m fine.”
    “I'm
no expert, but you don’t feel like you have a fever. That’s good.” He was just
lowering his hand when the receptionist he’d spoken to