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wavering spreadsheet pulled at her.
    “I hope you’re up looking for that error all night, Jackson,” she whispered as she snuggled into her pillow. It would only serve him right. She was the best bookkeeper that company was going to find. If he couldn’t see what he’d be missing without her, it wasn’t her fault.
    She’d done everything she could.

Chapter Two
     
    “Delia?”
    A low voice seeped through the darkness. It nudged at Delia’s senses, urging her to wake. To listen. She fought the intrusion. She was so tired. Oh, so very tired and uncomfortable.
    “Delia, are you okay?”
    The voice was insistent. Smoky and intimate. The timbre was familiar, yet out of place. She pushed through the thick layers of drowsiness and tried to think.
    It was just so hot. She kicked at the sheets tangled around her legs. Her pillow lay on the floor, and the comforter sat in a lump on the mattress beside her. Even the brush of the heavy fabric against her skin was too much. She pushed it away, trying to find some relief.
    “Hey. Come on. Look at me.”
    “Hot.” So hot. The heat was consuming her.
    The mattress shifted, and the back of a hand gently touched her forehead. “Ah hell. You’re burning up.”
    Delia squirmed restlessly and looked up at the man who’d appeared so suddenly in her bedroom. He hovered over her, big and dark. Shadows hid his features, but moonlight lit the hand that still brushed against her face. In the recesses of her mind, she knew she should be frightened—or at least surprised—but his presence comforted her. She didn’t want to be alone. Not while the fires of hell were ravaging her from the inside out.
    But why was he here?
    He shouldn’t be here. Or should he? She vaguely remembered a promise to check on her.
    It took too much energy to think. She pushed her hair away from her face and off her shoulder. Even it felt too oppressive. Her arm dropped to her side, and her hand bumped against a hard thigh.
    The man. He was sitting close.
    How had he gotten in again? Hadn’t she locked the door?
    She couldn’t remember. Didn’t care.
    She closed her eyes and started to drift away.
    Callused fingertips patted her cheek. “No, no. Stay with me. Open those pretty green eyes.”
    The firm tone made her obey. She rolled her head toward the voice and forced her eyelids open a slit. A light from the hallway shimmered around the silhouette of the man’s body. He moved so the light no longer glared in her eyes, and she could see him better.
    Dark hair. Dark eyes. Concern knotting his brow.
    He’d come.
    Relief made her sag against the mattress. He’d know how to fight this. He always knew how to take charge.
    “Make it better,” she begged.
    His hand cupped her cheek, and a distinct curse passed through his lips. Quickly, he reached out and clicked on her bedside lamp. The glare of the light made her close her eyes tightly. “No,” she winced. “Too bright.”
    “Sorry.” He turned the lamp down to its lowest setting. “Look at me, Delia. Please.”
    She didn’t want to, but he asked so nicely.
    “There you go.” His thumb swept across her cheekbone. “Ah, damn. Your eyes are glazed. Your pupils are dilated, and you’re way too warm. Why didn’t you call someone?”
    “Sleeping...the medicine.”
    “Medicine?” He nudged her when she began to nod off. “What did you take? Delia, this is important.”
    “Mm.” She liked having him close, but the heat of their bodies was mingling. She wriggled away and covered her eyes with her hand. Too hot. Too bright.
    He refused to let her be. “Where’s your medicine, Delia?”
    She tried to roll away.
    He caught her shoulder and pressed her flat on her back. “Tell me, and I’ll let you sleep.”
    Even through her daze, she heard the lie in his voice. She was too tempted to heed the warning. Sleep. She wanted to sleep. “Kitchen.”
    He was gone before she could say any more. The light was still too bright, but she didn’t have the