Oh, and a scar on his neck that scared the absolute tar out of me.

That kind of wound wasn't for the timid. This man had to have been a fighter to escape death with that kind of trauma.

I blinked at the man, and then extended the towels to him again.

He shook his head, leaned forward, grabbed them from my hand, and then went to his bike and started wiping off his bike.

"Sorry," I said as I walked away.

"It's okay," he said behind me, but I didn't turn around.

I couldn't tell you why my heart was speeding a mile a minute.

I didn't know that man, but just looking at his 'cut,' as Cleo liked to call it, made my stomach flutter with b.u.t.terflies.

Cleo had come in two days ago and turned my world upside down again.

He'd made it feel like old times.

Times where I hadn't forced him to have s.e.x with me and ruined our relationship.

He'd been nice. He'd bought pizza. Drinks. Even a movie. One that I'd had to return, but he'd brought it nonetheless.

I'd been thinking about him non-stop since he'd left, and it was driving me bat-s.h.i.t crazy.

Sighing, I went about getting the things I needed. Slowly. Mainly because it hurt to move too fast.

After picking up my prescriptions, soup, and juice, I walked out into the sunshine, stopping dead in the middle of the parking lot.

That was because Cleo was standing beside my car with his arm around a very beautiful blonde woman.

Her auburn hair was in soft waves down her back, and she was wearing some insanely tight jeans that made her a.s.s look perfect.

I couldn't see the rest of her since she was facing away from me, but I could clearly see the annoyed look on the face of the man whose bike I'd sneezed on.

And it was none too happy.

"Get your arm off my woman, Cleo," the man said through clenched teeth.

I blinked, waiting to see what would happen.

"What if she prefers my body to yours? Would you let her sample this bounty if she wanted to?" Cleo asked as he let the woman go to gesture to his body.

His body was a bounty.

He had on dark washed jeans with a black t-shirt and his leather vest.

Something so simple made him look downright glorious.

The woman giggled and I wanted to smack her.

Stomping forward, I pushed behind Cleo, making him take an alarmed step forward before I unlocked my car with the key and opened the door.

"Don't worry, Cleo. Your bounty spoils after one night. That woman looks like she wants stability, not a f.u.c.k that leaves the woman all worked up with no relief in sight. Oh, and that man looks like he could f.u.c.k better than you, anyway," I said just before dropping down into my car and taking off.

I didn't miss the woman's laughter, as well as the deep-throated bellow from the other man.

Nor Cleo's scowling face as I pulled out of the lot.

I wasn't surprised when a deep rumble came up on my b.u.mper and stayed there.

However, I couldn't muster up the courage to care because my head was pounding.

By the time I pulled into my driveway, I was thanking sweet baby Jesus that I'd made it that far.

Probably shouldn't have popped those Benadryl's at the doctor's office. What I should've done was waited until I was at home to do it.

I leaned forward and rested my head on the steering wheel, barely able to keep my eyes open.

Maybe I could just sleep in my car all night.

It was blissfully warm.

Or maybe that was my fever.

If only that horrible pounding would stop.

I woke up in my bed, unaware of how I'd gotten there.

I was beyond cold, and looked down to find only a sheet wrapped around my body.

I moved experimentally, blindly searching for the blanket that was usually there, but unable to find it.

Rolling over, I came up to a barrier that was blissfully warm.

"Uh-uh, Rue. You're running a high fever. You have to stay on your side and you can only use the sheet. You're already at 103," a deep voice rumbled.

I ignored Cleo and stayed where I was, shivering. "C-cold."

"I know, baby," Cleo said. "But if you get too hot, we're going to have to take a cold shower, and you know how that's going to go."

Sighing, I rolled away from the beautiful warmth of Cleo's body until I had a foot between us, and continued my shivering.

"You're the devil," I croaked.

"You may call me Diablo," Cleo rasped.

"Oh, Mikhail. I do love you," I whispered before falling back asleep.

I missed the, "I love you, too."

Cleo was doing sit-ups in my living room.

Shirtless.

And pantless.

In the middle of the night.

"Where're your pants?" I croaked.

Cleo stopped halfway into a sit up and twisted just his upper body to look at me.

My eyes roamed over the tanned expanse of his chest, cataloguing the multiple tattoos, ridges on top of ridges of hard, toned muscle, and finally the newest addition.

Scarring.

"What happened?" I gasped as I lurched forward.

He sat up fully, and then stood, giving me an unenc.u.mbered view of his entire body.

I started running my hands over the scarring on his lower hip that disappeared into the waistband of his underwear. A larger gash was evident on his right shoulder, as well as what seemed to be shrapnel scars dotting the rest of his chest.

"I told you, I had an accident," he said evenly.

I looked up at his face seeing him staring at me in concern, and then back at his belly.

The scars were still fresh.

Deep purple, and prominently raised, it looked like it'd hurt when it happened.

It also looked like it might still hurt.

"You didn't tell me what kind," I said as I reached gently to trace the underside of the scar with the tip of my finger.

He closed his eyes and sighed.

"It was a bad last mission. The team was supposed to help two soldiers who were in a small village outside of their camp. They got separated from their company when a woman blew herself up beside them. It was supposed to be just a routine combat rescue. We knew the area wasn't secure, but that's just how it was. That's what we did. There was a man waiting to show us where to go. A local. However, another woman was there, and she blew herself up right when we stepped foot into the building. My whole team died except two. Bones and I were the only survivors."

He explained it in a monotone voice. A voice that lacked any emotion, making him sound deadly.

"I'm so sorry, Cleo," I said softly.

Then I just couldn't help myself.

It was ingrained in me to offer him support. All it took was for me to see the flash of pain in his eyes before they shuttered closed to get me moving. He'd been my best friend. Just because he'd left, didn't mean I didn't still love him. Nor hurt when he hurt.

Which was why I found myself throwing my body into his arms, and burying my face into his neck.

He clutched me close to him, holding on while he fought whatever demons he was remembering.

"And how's Bones?" I asked as I backed away from him.

He shrugged. "About the same as me. We're living, but not really breathing. Doc says I have PTSD. The doc's gave me some medicine, but it only makes me like a zombie. Working out seems to help, though."

Well, that explained the sit-ups.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked, trying to get his mind off the past.

He looked at the black, mammoth watch on his wrist before answering, "Thirteen hours. Your fever broke. I looked in your purse and found your antibiotics, forced you to take them around eight."

I nodded. "Thank you. You probably shouldn't be here. I don't want you to get sick."

He gave me a droll look. "You do know what I do for a living, right? I'm around sick people all the time."

That was true.

"Okay, well don't say I didn't warn you," I shrugged.

He smiled. "You threw up on my pants, too. They're in your washer, along with the clothes you were wearing."

I looked down at the thin white camisole and white cotton panties I was wearing, and blushed.

I hadn't even thought to look at the clothes I'd been wearing before I came out here.

"I'm sorry," I said, embarra.s.sed.

He shrugged. "Been there, done that."