“No. I’m fine.”

She felt his forehead. “I still say that fever is there. Not a lot, but a bit.”

“My fever’s gone. Stop worrying.”

“My daddy thought he was over the fever once after he got in a tussle with a wild boar. Then he passed out in the Piggly Wiggly. Went down head first. Bam! Took out their entire candy display.”

That quick, the woman had his heart right in the palm of her hand. To quote her, “Bam!” She probably didn’t even realize it, and Brendon sure as hell had no intention of telling her.

“I’m okay,” he reassured her before he could say something stupid. Like “marry me.”

She shrugged. “Fine. Males wanna take chances with their health, no female around can convince ’em different.”

Ronnie sat up, scratching her head and yawning. “You work everything out with your brother?”

Brendon gave a sharp snort. “Not really. My brother’s not big on telling me or my sister anything.”

“Y’all from the same Pride?”

Sitting down beside her on the couch, enjoying simply having her there, “Nope. His mother belonged to the West Philadelphia Pride and our mom to the South Philly. Our mom died when we were born and her Pride didn’t want us.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged. “Got me. Sometimes cats just get that way.”

“So your dad took you in?”

“Yeah. He raised us. Was determined to do things differently.”

“Differently than what?”

“His father. He died in prison. Art thief.”

Ronnie pulled her legs up onto the couch, her arms around them and her chin resting on her knees. “I used to have an Uncle Louie who robbed banks until he was shot in the head.”

Brendon leaned back and put his feet up on his coffee table. “Ya gotta love family, huh?”

“Not really. But you can’t pick your family. It’s just the way it is. Your brother can’t be that bad, though.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t think you’d be worried about him if you thought he was hopeless.”

“Know that much about me already, huh?”

“Nah. Just a feeling I have. And I’m usually pretty right about people. Got it from my great-grandmother. She was Blackfoot tribe…or…something.”

“And you have three brothers.”

“Yup.” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t like your pretty face one bit.”

“Don’t give a rat’s ass about your brothers. Do you like my pretty face?”

“Yeah. I do.” She gently stroked his cheek. “But if my brothers come to New York and find you sniffing aroundme, what the Doogan brothers did to you in those tunnels will seem like a cakewalk compared to the Reed boys.”

Brendon leaned into her, his eyes locked on her lips. “I’ll take my chances,” he whispered and moved in.

Should have kept his eyes open, though. It would have prevented him from going face-first into his couch.

By the time he sat up, she had his front door open.

“Where are you going?”

“My momma says to hell in a handbasket, but I’m fightin’ that.”

She got as far as the elevator before he caught hold of the back of her denim shorts and proceeded to drag her back into his apartment.

“You’re not walking out on me again.”

“I can’t stay. I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Have sex with guys who don’t even know my name.” She grabbed the doorjamb and held on for dear life. “I promised myself no more of this wild child bullshit. I’m thirty now, I gotta be responsible.”

“And being with me isn’t responsible?”

“And I repeat—you didn’t even know my name and you’d already started sucking on my nipples. So, yeah, I’d say this is us about to be irresponsible.”

He had to pry her fingers off the doorjamb and haul her into his apartment. “Your name was the first thing I planned to ask you when I came out of the fever, but you were already gone.”

She scrambled out of his arms and backed up into his apartment. Thankfully, she didn’t smell frightened, but she did seem wary. He just didn’t think it was about him.

“I swear it’s nothing personal,” she insisted, “but it is for the best.”

“Don’t leave, Ronnie.”

She shook her head. “I can’t stay. I won’t stay.”

Brendon realized there was only one thing he could do. A risk. But he had to try. “I understand.” He walked away from the door so he no longer blocked her exit. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong, darlin’. It’s all me.” With one last look at him, those beautiful eyes filled with regret, she headed toward the door.

Letting out a low, mournful sigh, he sat on the armrest of one of his club chairs, his head hanging down.

“What…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. You better go.”

He didn’t look at her and when he heard the door open, it took all his strength not to run over and slam it before she could leave.

He waited. The door didn’t close.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’m just tired.”