Holding Strong. Lori Foster

your stay another day.”

      Something must have shown on her face, because he said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”

      Cherry shook her head. It was enough that he’d taken on caring for her. She did not want him financially taxed, too. “I’ll pay you back.”

      “No, you won’t.” Ignoring her indignation, he said, “I’m staying here, too, so don’t sweat it. Now stay put while I go get some ice. I’ll be right back.”

      “Wait a min—”

      He bent and kissed her forehead. “You’re not up for arguing with me, girl, so just relax, okay?” Another kiss and then he strode to the door.

      The shower had cleared the fog of lethargy enough for reality to intrude. The timing was a problem in more ways than the obvious.

      The second Denver returned with the ice bucket filled, she said, “I have to work tomorrow.”

      “Around kids?” His brows climbed high. “That’s not happening.”

      “I’m feeling better.” Better, but still on the dark side of rotten. And since she worked in a day care, she probably shouldn’t be around little kids. Still...

      “Hate to tell you, honey, but you’re going to need at least two more days. Maybe three.” He looked her over. “Or more.”

      Unacceptable, but knowing he might be right got her head to pounding.

      The ice clinked in a glass as Denver dropped it in, then poured juice over it. “You want a straw?”

      Her shoulders slumped. “No.”

      He handed it to her and went to the small table to open up some bags. “I grabbed food for myself, but I wasn’t sure—”

      She held up a hand. “No. No food for me.”

      “I figured.” His expression softened. “Will it bother you for me to eat?”

      “No, just...don’t talk about it.”

      Smiling, he shook his head and pulled out a seat. “If it makes you nauseous, tell me.”

      Turning to her side, she snuggled down in the bed. Keeping her eyes open wasn’t easy, but she’d been enough of a pill already. “What will you do today?”

      He opened several containers. “What do you mean?”

      “You usually work out? Or jog?”

      “Both, but I can miss a day.”

      She watched him dig into what looked like cottage cheese. She closed her eyes. “Denver?”

      “Hmm?”

      “Would you do me a huge favor?” When she opened her eyes, she saw that he’d turned toward her and was waiting. “Please, will you go make use of the gym? Or at least jog?”

      “You planning another shower?”

      His teasing made her smile tiredly. “No.” She yawned, sank a little deeper into the bed. “I’m going to doze and I’ll feel better knowing I didn’t completely ruin your day.”

      He pushed his chair back and came to sit on the side of the bed. “I like being here with you.”

      “Not like this.”

      “Even like this.”

      Could that be true? And if so, did that mean he actually cared for her? They had so much to work out, but first... “Please?”

      Hesitation showed through his frown. “You promise to stay in bed?”

      Since she didn’t think she could move anyway, she nodded.

      “All right. I’ll finish eating then take off for an hour or so.” He bent to put his forehead to hers. “Be good while I’m gone.”

      Soon as she got well, Cherry decided, she’d set him straight on his bossiness. But until then...yeah, sleep seemed like a very good idea.

CHAPTER SIX

      DENVER HAD TO ADMIT, the jog did him good. He’d still been tense from his clash with Cherry’s supposed family. He hadn’t gone too far from the hotel and he’d stayed alert while pushing himself, but he hadn’t seen them anywhere when he left or when he returned. With a little luck, they’d taken his advice and split.

      Most of the fight crowd had finally cleared out by the time he returned so he made it to their floor without getting stopped even once. Wearing a sweaty T-shirt and running shorts, his phone and the key card in a special carrier strapped with Velcro around his wrist, he headed to the door.

      The sudden splitting noise of a fire alarm obliterated the calm he’d just achieved by the long run. Jogging the last few steps to the door, he jerked it open and found Cherry sitting up, groggy and confused.

      “What happened?”

      “Fire alarm.” In rapid order he went about shoving his things into his overnight bag, then started on her stuff, grabbing up discarded clothes, shoes, makeup she’d left in the bathroom...

      “What are you doing?”

      “We have to clear out,” he said while finding her a pair of jeans and her underwear, “and I figure we may as well head home.”

      “Oh.” Little by little the sleepy daze cleared from her eyes.

      Odds were the cough medicine had wiped her out as much as illness.

      She started to leave the bed so he went to help her.

      “I need the restroom.”

      “Okay, but we have to hurry.” A voice came over an intercom of sorts in the room, directing guests to follow the guidelines on the backs of their entry doors. He led her to the bathroom, put the jeans and panties on the vanity, and stepped back. “Where’s your phone?”

      “Nightstand,” she said, and shoved the door closed.

      He saw she’d missed a call on her cell and on the room phone. Everything about this situation felt wrong, from the roughnecks claiming a relationship with her, to the sudden fire alarm and evacuation.

      Damn it, he would not take chances with her.

      He listened to the voice mail on the room phone first.

       “Listen up, Cherry. You need to get in touch. I mean it. No more fucking around.”

      Angry tension invaded every muscle in Denver’s body. When the caller, who he thought might be Carver, left a number, Denver held the phone between his shoulder and jaw and scrawled it down on a notepad. He tucked the paper into his wallet.

      “Tonight, Cherry. You’ve caused enough trouble. Don’t make me chase you down.” And with that, the call ended.

      He needed to know what the hell was going on. Now, before anything else happened. To be on the safe side, he glanced at her cell and saw that the missed call was from her roommate, Rissy. There was also a text that said only, Rissy was here. Typical MO for Merissa Colter. Under other circumstances, Denver might’ve smiled.

      Right now he was as far from a smile as a man could get.

      When he dropped the cell phone and charger into Cherry’s purse, he saw her car keys. He fished them out and stuffed them into his front pocket. He’d just finished gathering up the meds and putting them in her purse when the bathroom door opened.

      Cherry more or less crept out, now in the jeans, pale with fatigue, exhaustion showing in every line of her body.

      He grabbed up the bags and put an arm around her. “Come on, honey, we need to go.” He didn’t think there was a real fire, but he wouldn’t take any chances.

      “My