Holding Strong. Lori Foster

      Figured Armie would get involved. “What happened?”

      “I asked if they were talking about Cherry Peyton. You should have seen their faces. They were busted and knew it. The youngest one got all shifty and asked if I knew her. I said yes, and he asked what room she was in.”

      When they traveled together, the group always shared room numbers for emergencies, but he knew Armie wouldn’t give that info to an unknown. “I hope you told him to fuck off.”

      “Those exact words, actually.”

      Impatient, Denver glared at him. “Jesus man, it’s like pulling teeth. Spit it out already, will you?”

      Armie shrugged. “The biggest one—who, by the way, is bigger than you—tried to insist that I spill my guts. And by insist, I mean he went ugly real fast. Actually grabbed my shoulder and tried slamming me to the brick wall.”

      “Stupid.”

      “Yeah. But the dumbest part? The oldest one pulled a knife.”

      “Jesus,” Denver breathed again. His brain scrambled, wondering what the men wanted with Cherry.

      “Punches were thrown. I kneed the knife wielder in the balls. Decked the other one. Some other people got in on it and the oldest of the three called a halt. The cowards were going to limp off but I figured you’d want some answers, right?”

      He didn’t give Denver a chance to reply.

      “So I...insisted.”

      “You insisted?”

      “Yeah. I mean, Cherry’s one of us, right? Like you said, she’s your Cherry. And if they meant to hassle her—”

      Jumping past all that, Denver asked, “What’d you find out?”

      “They claim to be related to her.” Armie heaved a sigh. “And given how they told it, I sort of believe them. I mean, they were snotty about it, like maybe defiant. I dunno. I’d have grilled them more, but Havoc nosed in and trapped me.”

      Damn. Lousy timing. “He interfered?”

      “Not really.” Now evasive, Armie glanced at the door. “You aren’t going to rush in there and take care of her?”

      Of all the... “That’s none of your damn business.”

      Armie’s smile cracked. “Yeah, see, I didn’t mean in the sack. I meant because she’s sick.”

      Denver gave him a blank stare.

      “She has a fever, man.” And then, “You didn’t know?”

      “No.” Damn it, he’d thought she was too warm, but he’d still been wallowing in satisfaction and not thinking straight—or rather, he’d mostly been thinking about a repeat performance.

      Fists low on his hips, Armie frowned at him. “Why the hell did you think I was feeling her head? Not exactly what I zero in on, you know.”

      Shoving the door open again, Denver stepped in to find Cherry back in the bed with the covers pulled all the way up to her ears. Even from across the length of the room, he could see her shivering.

      His heart turned over as he strode to her. Sitting beside her on the bed, he smoothed back her hair. “Hey.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said in a small raspy voice without opening her eyes. “I think I’m sick.”

      Heat poured off her. “Yeah, baby, you definitely are.” He realized Armie had followed him in. Ignoring him, he asked, “Have you taken anything?”

      “Don’t have anything. I just want to sleep.”

      She’d said earlier that she had a headache, and she hadn’t wanted to eat. She’d been unsteady on her feet—and he’d assumed she’d drank too much.

      Armie shifted closer. “Want me to go grab some stuff before I head out?”

      Head out? Denver turned to him. “You’re not staying ’til morning?”

      “Now that both Havoc and that crazy chick know where to find me, it’s best if I just get on the road.”

      With a roll of his eyes, Denver said, “I thought you were taking the girl to her room.”

      “Did that, then left. But she followed me.”

      Cherry made a choked sound and Armie eyed her with interest. “Don’t expire, honey. Turned out she mostly just wanted me to talk dirty to her.”

      She cracked open one eye. “Bet you’re good at that.”

      Smiling, Armie said, “Yeah.”

      “Here’s a news flash,” Denver interjected, just to keep the two of them from teasing in front of him. “Havoc can find you at the rec center, too.”

      “Nah, he wouldn’t bother coming to Ohio.” Looking past Denver, Armie studied Cherry with concern. “Something for fever? Anything else?”

      Again Denver stroked her hair away from her face, put his mouth to her forehead, and flinched. “The gift shop is closed.”

      “So I’ll make a run to the store. Not a problem.”

      “You don’t mind?” Denver didn’t want to leave her.

      Pushing herself up against the headboard, Cherry huddled a little tighter and, teeth chattering, said, “You can both go. I can take care of myself.” That statement ended with a cough.

      Which Denver had been expecting.

      He needed to get her fever down. While walking Armie to the door, he rattled off a list of things for him to grab. When he reached for his wallet, Armie refused him.

      “You paid for my drinks. We’ll call it even.”

      “Thanks.” Soon as he left, Denver went into the bathroom and dampened a washcloth. When he headed back, Cherry watched him with alarm.

      “What are you going to do?”

      “Smothering a fever won’t help anything, babe. You need to lose the blanket.”

       “No.”

      The demonic tone might have amused him at any other time. But not now. She looked miserable and it twisted his heart.

      He sat beside her again. Putting the damp cloth on the nightstand, he took hold of her blanket.

      “Denver, no,” she whimpered.

      “Trust me, okay?” Relentlessly he wrested the blanket from her, but let her keep the sheet—for now. “I’ll make you more comfortable.”

      Around more coughing, she growled, “You’re not a damn doctor.”

      “My father is.”

      That stalled her. “Seriously?”

      “Yeah.” He rarely shared his family history. No point to it. But if conversation helped her to relax, hell, he’d tell her fairy tales if she wanted to hear them. “He has his own practice.”

      While she licked very dry lips and thought about that, he stroked the cool cloth over her face and then her neck.

      At first she sucked in a breath. A second later she leaned into his hand.

      If, as he suspected, she had the bug that’d been going around, sex was off the table for at least a week. It’d take her that long to start feeling human again.

      Her hair was smashed on one side, frazzled out on the other. And he’d never seen her makeup so wrecked. But he wanted to hold her close and care for her, and for however long it took for her to get well, he wanted to be with her. With or without her looking her usual irresistible self.

      With or without sex.

      Armie