Downtown Debutante. Kara Lennox

of taking you to the hospital.”

      “No.” But she realized she was in no condition to fight him, if that’s what he wanted to do. “Stay, then. But if this is just a clever ploy to get a free bed for the night, forget it. You’re gonna have to pay for half…the room.” Already, a pleasant lethargy was taking over her. Whether the muscle relaxer was working or simple exhaustion was taking over, she thought maybe she’d drop off again. Even if Heath Packer was watching her and she might drool in her sleep.

      Her last conscious thought was that, no, he didn’t sleep in his tie. And he wore surprisingly sexy underwear for such a straitlaced guy.

      BRENNA WAS SICK almost all night, off and on. She managed to doze off between bouts of violent retching.

      By morning, however, the worst seemed to be over. She was awakened by the sound of her hotel room door opening. She cracked open one eye and saw Heath Packer entering, one tall paper cup in each hand.

      She groaned and hid her head under the covers. Heath Packer had spent the night in her hotel room, but had she managed to make the best of the situation? No, of course not. He’d seen her sick and sweating and half-delirious and, yes, probably drooling.

      He managed to close the door quietly with his foot, then set the two cups on the nightstand. That’s when he spotted her peering at him with one eye, most of the rest of her under the covers.

      “Hey.” He smiled, not unkindly. “What’s the story? Are you going to live?”

      “I’m not sure. Did you spend the night in here?”

      He pointed to the other bed, tellingly rumpled. “Part of the night.”

      “Do you wear skimpy black bikini underwear, or did I dream that part? I’d have guessed you were a tightywhitey guy all the way.”

      “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

      Maybe she’d dreamed it after all. At any rate, he was back in his suit pants today, paired with another crisp, white shirt. No tie, though. His dark hair was neatly combed, his face freshly shaved.

      “Do you want breakfast?” he asked, indicating a white bakery bag.

      She groaned melodramatically and hid under the covers again. “Don’t you dare show me any food. Whatever it is, I don’t want to see it or smell it.”

      “Okay. But it’s just some dry toast. That’s supposed to be good for an upset stomach. I brought you some hot tea with honey, too.”

      Was this guy for real? Most men ran the other way when anyone around them took ill. Her father once left the house for three days when her mother had the flu.

      She figured Heath was probably being so nice because he’d realized he needed her. She was the one who’d spotted the stolen necklace. She was the one who’d come up with French Quarter Chic. For all the good it had done.

      “I might try the tea,” she finally said, deciding a couple of sips wouldn’t kill her. If she kept those down, maybe she would get really wild and take a bite of toast.

      She started to sit up, then abruptly remembered she’d taken off all her clothes last night. She peeked under the covers and relaxed when she realized she had on her old, tattered flannel nightgown, the one she’d shoved to the bottom of the suitcase in embarrassment after she saw the matching-nightie-and-peignoir sets Sonya favored.

      Wait a minute. No matter how debilitated she’d been, she would never have chosen to put this on when there was a handsome guy in the room.

      She sat up and shot Heath a suspicious glare as he removed the top from her tea and handed it to her. “You didn’t, um…” No. That was ridiculous.

      “Did you want milk for your tea?” he asked, thinking that was the problem.

      “Did you put me in a nightgown last night?” she blurted out.

      “You were shivering. That was the warmest thing I could find in your suitcase,” he said matter-of-factly.

      She knew her face must be flaming. She was going to die of embarrassment. She took a gulp of tea to hide her discomfort. Though she didn’t much care for tea, this was good—hot, strong and sweet.

      “Take it easy,” Heath cautioned. He took his own cup, which apparently contained coffee, and pulled off the lid. Then he settled back on his bed with the morning paper.

      Gee, wasn’t this cozy?

      “You saw me naked,” she couldn’t help pointing out.

      He looked up. “What?”

      “You saw me naked.”

      He grinned. “I didn’t look. Not that I wasn’t tempted, but I’m not the kind of guy who takes advantage of a woman when she’s down.”

      “How could you not look?”

      He rolled his eyes. “I handed the nightgown to you. I turned my back. You put it on.”

      Brenna knew she should have been relieved. She was disappointed instead. Not that she would have been at her fetching best last night. More like my retching best. She wished she could remember. If she’d been naked in front of Heath Packer, she ought to be able to remember it.

      She forced herself to focus on something else. She drank more of the hot, sweet tea, then forced down a couple of bites of the dry toast. Her stomach didn’t seem to mind it.

      “I think a shower might do me some good.” She retreated to the bathroom, bringing some fresh clothes with her. She was pitifully weak. But by the time she dressed and brushed her teeth, she was feeling almost human again. She pulled on a lime-green tank top and a pair of electric blue pants with a beaded design running down the side seams.

      It took lots of makeup to disguise that sickly prison pallor and puffy eyes, and half a bottle of styling gel to spike her hair just right. But by the time she was finished, she thought she looked pretty hot. Well, pretty okay. Not that her cold-fish roommate would notice. Jeez, if he could see her naked and be totally unaffected, she was losing her touch.

      AS SOON AS BRENNA WENT into the bathroom, Heath quit pretending to read the paper and put it down. Hell, yes, he’d put the nightgown on her. The poor woman’s teeth had been chattering so loudly she’d been in danger of cracking a molar. But contrary to what he’d just told her, he’d had to dress her himself. She’d been groggy from the muscle relaxer and half-delirious with fever.

      He had definitely looked.

      Then he’d covered her with every blanket in the room. And when she was still shivering, he’d gotten into bed with her and added his own body heat to the prescription.

      After a few minutes the shivering had stopped and she’d dropped into a more normal sleep. Praying she wouldn’t remember any of it, he’d reluctantly slid out of her bed and into his own to catch some sleep.

      Unfortunately, he remembered her every contour, exactly what it felt like to have her bottom tucked up against his very hard arousal, her shoulders pressed against his chest, the soft give of her flesh beneath the tattered flannel as he’d wrapped his arms around her. The feel of her would be with him always, he was sure.

      Thank God she didn’t seem to recall.

      Chapter Four

      By noon Brenna claimed she felt well enough to leave the hotel room. “I really can’t stand being cooped up in here anymore,” she said. “I want to take action. Marvin’s out there somewhere.”