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When I got to the clinic, Joy was trying to figure out with Ava and Roxie how to get the flowers to the local nursing home so they didn’t go to waste. Of course, she was. Just went to prove how strong my woman was.

But despite Joy’s brave front, I could see signs that she was still freaked. It was in the way she licked her lips and the slight tremble of her hands as she held her purse. I needed to get her the hell out of there and back to my house, where I could take care of her. The drive home had been quiet, Joy's brave mask finally slipping as exhaustion took over. By the time we got home, her bravado had faded away. My woman had trusted me to take care of her before I led her to the bedroom.

“You make me feel safe,” were the last words she said before she fell asleep in my arms. I wished I could have fallen asleep, but there was just no way that was going to happen. She’d been too tired and traumatized by the time we’d arrived to answer any questions I had about her previous stalker. All she said was it had happened while she’d lived in London and they hadn’t caught the fucker.

Tonight, she wasn’t wearing a sleep shirt. She’d insisted on making love. I didn’t want to at first. I was too worried about her. I thought she needed holding, not sex. But I finally understood that she needed the intimacy, the closeness that only came when we joined our bodies. Hell, she was so worn out by the time we were done that she didn’t have the strength to put on one of my tees.

I slowly disentangled myself from her embrace, then got out of bed and grabbed a clean T-shirt out of my dresser. I went back to bed and carefully pulled it over her head and threaded her arms through the holes.

“Graham?” she muttered softly.

“Sleep, baby.”

“S’okay.”

As I smoothed the tee over her torso, I looked at the scar on her side, just under parallel to the bottom of her breast. I’d asked her about it before, and she’d said it was just a foolish accident. Now that I took a good look at it in the moonlight, I thought accident my ass. My gut clenched. Terror and fury mixed together as the cold thought that her stalker in London had stabbed her slithered through my mind.

Motherfucker!

Was this the same guy?

As soon as I got the shirt on her, I wrapped her close in my arms and listened to the soft sounds of her breaths. They finally lulled me into a fitful sleep.

When Joy entered the kitchen, I turned around with a smile on my face.

“My God, Graham, who’s coming over?” she asked. “All the men from Onyx and their wives? They better be, because there’s no way the two of us will be able to eat all this food.”

I looked down at the strips of bacon on the paper-towel-covered plate, sitting beside a good-sized bowl of fried potatoes and a platter of cut-up fruit, and now that she was up I was pulling out the stack of pancakes that I’d been warming in the oven. Ten pancakes, to be exact. I’d gotten up at five o’clock, and after an hour and a half of reading the end of a bestselling thriller, I figured I’d cook her a good breakfast before the day started.

“Now that you’re up, you can tell me how you like your eggs,” I said as I took the carton of eggs out of the fridge.

“I like them cold. As in, left in the fridge. I’m serious, Graham. You feed a fever, not a freak-out.”

I snorted. I put the eggs back in the fridge and opened my arms. “Come here. I need a hug.”

She flew across the room into my arms. I caught her close and held on tight. I shoved my face into the side of her neck, drinking in her scent. Honeysuckle and Joy, how could I ever be anything but happy when I was surrounded by that smell?

We stood that way for a long time, neither one of us wanting to break away from the other.

“Graham?”

“Yeah?”

“I like my pancakes warm.”

I chuckled and let her go. She sashayed over to one of the bar chairs next to the counter and hoisted herself up.

“Joy, are you wearing panties?”

“I’ll tell you after you feed me.”

“That so isn’t fair,” I groaned.

“Food. I was promised food.” Joy plucked a strawberry off the platter of fruit and took a slow bite. I groaned again. I forced myself to turn around and get plates down out of the cupboard. Along with the plates, I gathered silverware and glasses, then turned back to Joy, who was now eating a piece of melon.

I quickly had our places set and pancakes, bacon, and potatoes dished out. I went back to the fridge to get out juice. “Do you want hot sauce or ketchup to go on your potatoes?”

“Hot sauce, please. Heck, Graham, you should know I like it hot.”