“I don’t,” he admitted, slightly breathless, but still in control. “But that will change.”

As if to prove his point, he pushed down and deep into her, eliciting both a muscle spasm and a sharp gasp.

She closed her eyes. He increased his pace. When she came she came as quietly as she could but still loud enough for Daniel to hear and laugh just before he let himself come with three final thrusts and a muffled grunt at the back of his throat.

Eleanor’s breathing slowly settled. She blinked and raised her head. All she saw were thousands of books stacked and shelved and neatly scattered. Daniel was still inside her.

“God I love a man who reads,” she breathed and laid her head on the desk, spent.

* * *

The sex out of their system—for the movement, at least—Eleanor and Daniel made diligent progress on his library. Daniel sorted, reclassified while Eleanor dusted the bookcases in question and reshelved the newly Deweyed books in proper order.

Sometimes they talked as they worked: Eleanor learned about Daniel’s childhood in Canada, the source of his imperviousness to New England winters, and Eleanor confessed her frustration with her lack of ambition. She wanted, in theory, to do more than work in a bookstore but was so happy, most of the time, with him that she couldn’t bring herself to make any sort of profound change.

“Contentment can be the enemy,” Daniel agreed and he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. “But don’t worry. Life, death, or an act of God will eventually intervene. Enjoy the contentment while it lasts. It won’t last forever.”

Eleanor shivered at the bitter truth of his words.

“You’ve been content to be alone for three years. So am I the life, death, or act of God sent to shake things up?”

“You,” he said, “are a force of nature.” He slapped her bottom and ordered her back to work.

They worked mostly in silence, companionable silence after that, speaking only about the books and how they should best be arranged. During a back-stretching break, Eleanor wandered into the corner of a windowless alcove. Two dozen or more cardboard boxes were neatly stacked.

“What are these?” she called out to Daniel.

“Discards,” he said, coming to her corner. “Maggie’s old law books. There’s a business college with a paralegal program in town. I was going to donate the books to their little law library.”

“Going to?”

“Well, I still am. I just haven’t quite...”

Eleanor gave him a flat, steady stare.

“How long have these been sitting here in those boxes?”

“A year, I suppose.”

Eleanor continued to gaze blankly at him.

“You do recall I am the dominant in this particular relationship, yes?”

Eleanor wasn’t intimidated. “Then act like it.”

“I will.” At that, Daniel scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her squirming self back to the case they’d been working on. “Back. To. Work,” he ordered as he put her down, gently but firmly, on her feet.