"So am I."

As if to pacify him, she touched his arm. "I know, but not in the same way."

For whatever reason, Carver and his brothers had a stranglehold on her. He'd have to tread lightly, because no way would he hurt her-not ever again.

Stomping down his irritation, he removed her hand. "Give me a second, okay?" He left the bed and went into her small bathroom to get rid of the condom, giving himself a moment to get his thoughts together.

When he returned, he found Cherry sitting there exactly as he'd left her, unconcerned with her nudity.

It was a wonder he could think at all, seeing her like this, knowing she was his for the taking.

He got into bed with her, sitting with his back against the headboard. "Let's call him now."

Her face went blank. "Now?"

"Yeah." He had a feeling if he didn't press the issue right now, while he was with her, she'd take care of it as soon as he was gone.

"You said you understood."

"I do. Now you need to understand that I want to share problems. And he's a problem."

Her eyes narrowed. "Share problems?"

Why did that bother her so much? She professed to care about him. She'd chased him 'til she got him. Now she could deal with the reality of it.

Feeling magnanimous, he explained, "That's the way relationships work."

"Oh, really?" She rose to her knees. "So you'll discuss with me how what's his name-" Snapping her fingers, she said, "You know."

"Who?"

"The guy you're fighting next."

"Packer?" What the fuck?

"Right. Packer. Are we going to work out together how to keep him from fighting dirty?"

Denver scratched the top of his head, unsure where she was going with this. "I don't know what-"

She almost pounced on him. "The guys told me he's a dirty fighter. That he keeps his open hand out so he can poke his opponents in the eyes."

Snorting, Denver explained patiently, "It's happened a few times. Doesn't mean he-"

"Yes, it does!" She leaned into him, all ready to make a point of some sort. "Miles said Packer can't win against you unless he cheats. He said the last three guys who fought him ended up hurt. Brand told me that the ref gives a warning, then maybe takes away a measly point, but-"

Denver laughed, he couldn't help it. She looked damned cute in her umbrage.

Apparently humor was the wrong way to go. His laugh set her off, but he tumbled her before anger could drive her from the bed. Wrestling with her was fun, especially since she didn't actually try to hurt him.

He watched her boobs as she struggled against him, kneed her legs open to settle over her, then smiled.

"Get off," she insisted.

Keeping her pinned down, drawn to the mulish set of her mouth, he kissed her.

She shoved against him. "No!"

"Yes." He kissed her again, then kept on kissing her until she went soft beneath him. "You always taste so damn good," he murmured as he worked his way along her jaw, her throat, her shoulder. "You have the sweetest, softest skin." He released her wrists so he could cup her breasts. "All over."

She slid her fingers across his shoulders. "You're like hard, warm steel."

"My shoulders?" he teased.

"Mmm," she teased right back. "And other places."

It amazed him how quickly Cherry could lose her pique and get interested, sexually, again. Amazed and pleased him. A lot.

Gathering her close, Denver sat up with her on his lap. "Problems."

Groaning, she went limp in his arms in a dramatic fall.

He laughed, cuddling her closer to give her a smacking kiss on her mouth. "First, you told me no and I ignored it."

"Yes, you did."

"We were tussling," he explained. "I need you to know that if you're ever serious, I wouldn't-"

"Denver." She teasingly bit his bottom lip. "I already know you would never cross the line. You respect women too much for that."

Damn. It humbled him, her faith and her understanding. "True. Thank you for knowing it." But she needed to know the full truth. "With you, it's more than that. I care about you."

Her eyes warmed, and her smile went sweet and silly. In a whisper, she said, "I care a lot about you, too."

Did she love him? No, he didn't want to ask. They had too much to deal with already. "Now, second." Boasting only a little, he explained, "Packer isn't going to get a chance to poke me in the eye."

"But Miles said-"

He'd share his ire with Miles later. "I've watched Packer's fights, I know how he thinks and how he moves, I have a plan, and yes, I'll take him apart-without an eye poke. So don't worry about it. But," he said over her protest, "if I do have a problem, I'll discuss it with you. I promise."

She clearly hadn't expected that. "Even with fighting?"

"Sure. I don't expect you to totally grasp all the nuances of the sport, but it's always nice to talk things out anyway."

Looking absurdly pleased, she said, "I could be a sounding board."

"You're too sexy to ever be called that," he growled against her neck. "But I enjoy talking with you. You're a good listener."

"I'm also smart."

"Yes, you are.And that brings us back to Carver."

Not liking the way he'd circled that around, she frowned. "I don't want you in the middle of this."

Calm, he reminded himself. Stay calm. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Carver might...shoot off his mouth. Make threats. Say...ugly, idiot things."

"Things he'll mean."

Her frown didn't ease. "Please don't let him provoke you."

"I like to think I have more control than that."

Her huff blasted him. "You're going to insist on listening in?"

"Not insist, no." Though he wouldn't mind laying on the guilt, not if it got him what he wanted. "But if you trust me, why can't I listen? Especially when you know it'll make me feel better."

After a lengthy, strained silence, he decided no answer was her answer. He picked up his cell. "Want me to do the honors?"

Looking more troubled than a woman ever should, she shook her head and held out a hand. He gave her the phone.

"Put it on speaker," he told her.

"Fine."

He knew her disgruntlement came from fear-for herself, and for him. Hoping to soften her temper, he said, "Thank you."

She sat there just looking at the phone until Denver finally asked, "Do you know the number?"

"No."

For some reason that made him feel better. Maybe because it meant Carver had truly been removed from her life.

He reached for his wallet and withdrew the slip of paper. "I wrote it down at the hotel when he left the message."

She took it from him, smoothed it out over her thigh. "Will you just listen? Not interrupt, not speak, not...let Carver know you're here?"

It was the oddest thing ever, having a woman worry for him. All his life he'd been bigger than most, strong, confident. People sometimes came to him with their concerns, but he couldn't recall anyone fretting for him since his mother's death. "If that's what you want, then I'll be so quiet he'll never know I'm here."

Extreme relief stole the tension from her spine. "It is."

"Then I'll be silent." For now. "But Cherry, if he shows up here, if he even thinks about touching you-"

"Let's hope he doesn't." Before Denver could expound on dire threats, she touched in the numbers.

Her face stark with anxiety, she held the phone in both hands and waited for Carver to answer.

Hoping to soothe her, Denver tucked her hair back, then stroked his hand along her narrow back. Another novel experience, having a naked woman on his lap, making a call to a deranged punk while he promised to stay out of it.

On the fourth ring, Carver said, "Yeah?"

For the longest time, Cherry didn't speak.

Denver watched her, waiting, wanting to understand the awful hold Carver had on her.

"It's me," she said at last.

A static charge came through the silence, building in intensity until Carver sneered, "Well, well, Cherry darlin'." Thick with malice, his laugh taunted her. "'Bout fucking time."

Cherry said nothing to that.

"What took you so long? Your boyfriend occupying your time?"

She didn't look at Denver when she whispered, "No." She inhaled, straightened her shoulders. "I don't want to talk to you, Carver. Whatever it is-"

"Did loverboy tell you Pops died?"

"Yes. You have my condolences."

Mocking, he asked, "But you aren't sorry to see him go?"

Before his eyes, Denver saw her getting her sass back. He wanted to hug her, applaud her and somehow emotionally protect her.

"You know I'm not."

"You little bitch," Carver jeered. "He took you in, he fed you, he-"

"The state fed me." She narrowed her eyes. "Now what do you want?"

Denver smiled at the bite in her tone, encouraging her and doing his utmost to keep his presence unknown. It wasn't easy. He wanted to spare her-but he also wanted her to understand that he'd respect her wishes. Always.

"You can start with a fucking apology for not calling me back sooner!"

"Hold your breath while you wait for that."

He laughed. "Getting ballsy, huh? Guess I'll have to see what I can do about that."

Cherry's posture showed both anxiety and anger, but her tone remained credibly strong. "I'm hanging up now."

"If you do, I will make you so fucking sorry."

No mistaking that threat, and Denver shifted, his muscles automatically bunching in preparation for violence.

Touching his forearm, Cherry silently willed him to be patient, to let her handle it her own way. Jesus, it was hard. He managed a nod, but didn't even come close to relaxing.

With his promise made, she said to Carver, "If you're not going to tell me what you want, then I'm not wasting any more of my time."

"Janet is hurt. In the hospital." The sound of gnashing teeth could be heard. "She's in a bad way."