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usually are. You always get exactly what you want don’t you?”
                  I expected that look of triumph again, but it wasn’t there. “He’s not in love with you. He’ll have forgotten you within a week there. The question is,” Had I only imagined Jackson’s voice sounding so gentle, almost seductive as his words brushed across my face. Or was it simply the effects of the Nyquil? “Are you in love with Ben?”
                  Jackson moved closer as he spoke. His hands were touching me again, but it wasn’t the same. There was nothing of the anger that had been there the night before. His fingers were gentle as they threaded through my hair, his thumb stroking down my cheek.
                  “I’m not answering that…” The second his lips touched my throat, I knew that I was. Whatever he wanted, I would do.
                  “Are you in love with my nephew, Maggie?”
                  “No…” I hated the way all of my emotions, every single effect his hands had on me were right there in the shaky sound of my voice. That sexy little laugh of his told me he knew he had me.
                  “Did you sleep with him?” He was so close, his eyes searching mine looking for the truth.
    I shook my head. I wasn’t ready to give it to him.
                  “Okay, we’ll leave that question for later, but you will answer it. You know that don’t you?”
                  He didn’t wait for my answer. He simply lifted me into his arms and took me to his bed.
                  We made with the same abandoned passion as before, but once the fire died away, my conscience returned along with my cold and I tried to get away. A little too late to be very convincing, but I could hopefully keep some of my self-respect.
                  Jackson had other plans for me. He stopped my escape easily enough by reaching for my hand.
                  “Where are you going?”
                  “I’m leaving. I should never have come here.” Boy did those words never ring more true. Of course, they were a lot too late to have much of an impact on him. Somehow, I managed to free myself from his grasp. He got out of bed and followed me.
                  “Come back to bed, Maggie.”
                  “Let me go. All I want to do is go home.” Jackson stopped my struggling by taking me in his arms. It was then that he realized something was actually wrong with me. He was just about ready to toss me over his shoulder like some cave man, when his fingers touched my hot forehead.
                  “You’re burning up. Are you sick?”
    Okay, at the first sound of concern in his voice, I almost lost it. I bit my lip and tried counting to ten. I wouldn’t cry in front of him. I wouldn’t.
                  “Yes, I’m sick and I want to go home.”
                  He ignored what I wanted all together. “Get back in bed where it’s warm.” When I didn’t move, he lifted me—not in primeval fashion, but a little too gentle for Jackson Riley—into his arms and back to his bed.
                  “Stay there.” He ordered before walking away from me. I couldn’t say a single word. I was biting my lip, praying that I wouldn’t disgrace myself further in his presence by crying.
                  “Here take these. They’ll help you feel better. I used them when I had a nasty cold a few months back. They’re good. Don’t worry,” he added at my skeptical look, “they’re not poisoned.”
                  “I can’t take them. I’ve been taking Nyquil all day.” Did that really sound as childish as it did to me? I prayed it was just my fever distorting my rational thoughts.
                  He laughed but didn’t budge. He still held those little pills out to me