Lori Foster - Holding Strong

Cannon, Armie, Stack, Miles...his number was there, too, though she’d never called him.

Had she called any of the other guys?

That damn jealousy nudged in, disturbing his peace of mind. Why the hell did she need contact info for men she wasn’t dating? He knew for a fact none of them had been out with her. Their circle was a close one. He’d have heard. Hell, he’d have seen .

Feeling like a damned snoop, he dropped the phone book back in her purse.

If she’d had plans to play the field, he’d convince her otherwise. Together they were combustible; he’d keep her so satisfied she wouldn’t even think of other men.

With that decision made, he gave another quick glance at her still sleeping form. The ways she affected him... He shook his head.

Forcing himself to head to the door, he slipped silently out of the room. Despite his current disgruntlement, he wanted her again. At times, he thought he might always want her.

Soon as possible, he’d spell out to her exactly what he needed: exclusivity—and no flirting with other men.

* * *

THE BANGING ON the door caused Cherry’s heavy eyelids to lift. Her head hurt, her throat was scratchy, and she only wanted to go back to sleep.

But the knocking didn’t stop.

When she sat up, the room seemed to swim around her, causing her stomach to pitch. Whoa. She held on to the mattress a moment to get her bearings.

Shivers wracked her as she looked around the room in confusion—and realized she was naked.

Oh yeah. Denver.

Where had he gone? Her brows pinched, making her head pound harder as she tried to figure out how she’d gone from drowning in pleasure to waking alone and feeling so wretched.

More knocking sounded and, thinking that might be Denver, she tried to get herself together.

Wrapping the sheet around her body she made her way across the room, every step an effort. When she peered out the small security hole, she saw Armie instead of Denver.

With Denver gone, immediate worries settled in and she pulled open the door. “What’s the matter?”

Until she spoke, she didn’t realize how croaky her voice would sound. She tried clearing her throat, but that just made it worse.

Armie had his hand raised to knock again, his mouth open to speak—but the second he saw her, his gaze dropped to roam quickly over her sheet-shrouded body.

Brows lifting, his gaze finally met hers. “Damn, Cherry, way to stop my heart.”

Feeling more miserable by the second, she slumped against the door frame to stay upright. “Where’s Denver?”

“He’s not with you?” He peered in around her with a frown. “Because honestly, doll, you look like he’s been here.”

Confused, she looked around the room, trying to sort it out. “He was, but I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah?” Grinning, Armie sidled in uninvited. “So you two were together? That’s what Stack told me.”

Walking away, Cherry went to the bed and more or less collapsed to sit on the side. Staying upright took great concentration. Freezing, she hugged the sheet tighter and tried for a deep breath. But that hurt most of all.

“What’s wrong?” Armie approached cautiously. “You’re not going to keel over, are you?”

“No. I just don’t feel well.”

He put the back of his hand to her forehead, then whistled. Crouching down in front of her, he tried to see her averted face. “You’re burning up.”

Wrong. “I’m freezing.”

“That’d be the fever.” He reached around her for the blanket, and that’s when Denver walked in carrying an overnight case. He drew up short at the sight of Cherry on the bed in a sheet, Armie touching her.

Even through bleary eyes, she read the suspicion in his gaze. Before he could speak, she did. “Where did you go?”

He dropped a duffel bag and crossed his arms. “I went to get my things.”

So cold that she couldn’t stop shaking, she wanted only to be alone. In her throaty voice, she said, “Will you two leave? I need to get dressed.”

“Dressed to go where?”

“Back to bed?” She seriously wasn’t up to anything else.

Denver’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve already seen you.”

“Lucky bastard,” Armie murmured, and then with a disapproving frown, “But I haven’t seen her, so walk me out. I came to see you anyway.”

Denver hesitated, studying her a moment, but finally he nodded. Thank God. A minute longer and she’d have crawled back under the covers just to hide.

As soon as the door closed, she dragged herself out of the bed and found a T-shirt and panties. Shivering almost uncontrollably, she went into the bathroom. One look in the mirror and hiding became a real possibility.

Such a mess. Wild hair, ruined makeup, red eyes and a pale face.

But she flat-out didn’t have the energy to deal with it. Just getting her shirt and underwear on proved a trial. No way could she wash off her makeup or tidy her hair. By the time she staggered out of the bathroom, she felt weak as a baby. And that made her weepy.

This was supposed to be her big night with Denver—and here she’d gone and gotten sick.

* * *

“FIRST,” ARMIE SAID, the second the door closed, “get that shit out of your head.”

Knowing exactly what he meant, Denver said, “Fine. Then tell me why you’re here.”

“Not to hit on her, and you know it.”

For ten seconds longer, they had a stare-off.

And Denver realized he was being absurd.

Not only was Armie trustworthy, he didn’t go for girls like Cherry. Hell, for the most part he avoided them.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he dropped back against the wall. What he felt for Cherry blew his control. He had to get a grip, and fast, before he made an ass of himself.

Or rather, more of an ass. “Right. Sorry. I know she’s not your type.”

“Didn’t say that.”

New volatility demolished Denver’s relaxed posture.

With a half grin, Armie admitted, “If you hadn’t stepped up, I’d have been all over it.”

“Bullshit.” Armie’s preferences were well known—because he made them known. He was congenial with all women, but made it clear that he divided the fairer sex into three categories: women up for grabs because they were fast, nasty and rough around the edges, or in other words, perfect for his tastes; nice women, which he considered all fluff and uninteresting; and women related to anyone he knew, which put them off-limits—like Cannon’s sister, Merissa.

Although Denver thought Armie might fight a losing battle with the last.

Through his teeth, Denver said, “I thought you didn’t like nice girls.”

With a shrug, Armie murmured, “Cherry is a different type of nice.”

Didn’t he know it. She was the perfect mix of sweet and sexy. Her brand of nice could give any guy a boner.

Determined to set Armie straight right now, Denver came forward in a single aggressive step—

And Armie laughed at him.

Far from amused, Denver warned him, “You’re pushing your luck.”

“And you’re being entertaining.” Armie shook his head, then said with mock pity, “I can be a prick, Denver, I know. But I wouldn’t do that.”

Shit. No, he wouldn’t. Denver retreated with a deep breath that didn’t even come close to helping. “Yeah, I do know it. Sorry again.”

“Tell it to her, not me.”

“Already planning that particular chat with her.”

Snorting, Armie said, “Good luck with that.”

“Meaning what?”

“You’re coming on too strong, man. But then, hey, who am I to say? Maybe she’s into that caveman shit.”

If Armie didn’t stop being so deliberately provoking, he’d flatten him just for the fun of it.