Chapter Three

But she did. Worry that is. About him. She called at lunch. He was eating and was getting ready to take some Nyquil. That should keep him asleep until she got home that afternoon.

By three, she was creeping back into his apartment, having taken the afternoon off. While it wasn't like Jordan to sneak out early on a Friday, Garret had noticed she was having trouble concentrating at work. "What's up, Jo? Rattle too many skeletons in the closet in LA?" he had inquired, somewhat concerned she may decide to bolt back to her old stomping ground.

"No. It's Woody," she had replied absent-mindedly.

"Woody?" Garret had asked, the amazement edging his voice. "What's the matter with Woody?"

"He's sick."

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"No. I think it's a cold."

Garret's eyebrows rose. "You're worried over Woody because he has a cold?"

Suddenly Jordan realized how completely idiotic she sounded to anyone other than…well…Woody. A pink flush covered her cheeks. "Um…yeah," she admitted.

Garret chuckled. "Jordan…just exactly what went on there in LA with you two? Every time you go to LA with Woody….when you get back home, it's like you're in another world…what does Los Angeles do to you two? May you slightly insane?"

I think so…it gets us out of Boston and our defenses are down….we are finally honest with each other. Why can't it be like that here? Jordan thought as she drove back to his apartment. As she pushed the door open, the room was quiet. She tiptoed over to the bed. He was sound asleep. Good. That's what he needs. She quietly went back to the kitchen and began cooking dinner. She had the weekend off. Hopefully, her Farm Boy would be feeling much better by Monday.

"You made this?" he asked, tentatively taking a spoonful of the soup.

"I can cook, Woody."

"I know….I mean I guessed I knew…I've just never seen a domestic side of you."

"What? You think I'm cops and robbers and ME's all the time?"

Woody shook his head. The chicken soup was delicious, and certainly not anything he expected out of Jordan. "How's the fever?" she asked him, when he was through.

"I'm not sure."

Jordan pulled out the thermometer and took his temperature one more time. It was till nearly one hundred. "You're still sick."

"But I feel better."

"It's the Nyquil."

"But I need to work tomorrow."

"Sorry. No going anywhere until your fever breaks."

Woody groaned and leaned back on the couch. Staying inside was nearly killing the over-active detective. "Jordan….you've got to do something."

Jordan thought for a moment. "The only things I know you can do are take Tylenol and lukewarm showers. That will cool you down and help break the fever. You hit the shower, I'll get the medicine."

Reluctantly Woody pulled his body off the couch. He wished, by some stretch of the imagination, that Jordan would join him in the shower. He hadn't been able to get the vision of her undressing in the bathroom out of his head. Nor had he forgotten his promise to be the one that would just hold her tighter. Unfortunately, his cold had gotten in the way. He cursed himself and their seemingly unending run of bad luck and bad timing that kept getting in the way as he stood under the shower spray.

Drying off and wrapping his towel around him, he re-entered the bedroom, changed into a pair of boxers and got in the bed. A minute later, Jordan came in with water and Tylenol in hand. "Here, take this…let's see what that will do," she said, sitting on the side of the bed as he took the medication. "Do you need anything else?" she asked, tucking the sheets and blankets securely around him.

Oh, I do…but I wonder if you'd give it to me…. He thought as he let his gaze linger just a minute longer on her face. "Um…no. Are you coming to bed soon?"

"In a little while. I need to check my e-mail and finish the dishes." She pulled the blankets tighter around him. "You go to sleep." She didn't need to say the last part…his eyes were already closing. She smiled softly to herself and went into the kitchen.

A few hours later, she returned. She changed into a silky night shirt, one that buttoned up the front and fell just short of her knees. Sitting beside him on the bed, she looked at him for just a moment. Woody was truly a gorgeous man. Without his shirt and only in his boxers, it had been all she could do to keep her hand off of him. But he was sick…he didn't need to be bothered with her need for his affections right now. Gently, she placed her hand on his forehead. Not quite as warm…he may not even have a fever now, she thought as she slid her hand down his face to cup his cheek like she did back in the karaoke bar in LA. Maybe I'd better take the couch tonight, she thought, not sure if she could trust herself. She needed Woody to hold her tighter, but the truth was, she needed to hold him. She had been worried about him all week, fighting the need to touch him in order to reassure herself that he was okay. And he probably wasn't up to her neediness. Yeah, the couch is definitely a better idea, she thought to herself again, reluctantly removing her hand.

"Where do you think you're going?" Woody asked, startling her. She could have sworn he was asleep.

"I …I was going to sleep on the couch."

"Why?"

"I just don't know if it's a good idea for me to sleep with you tonight."

"Are you running, Jo? Regretting asking me to be the one to hold you tighter?"

"No…it's just that you're still sick and," she was finding it difficult to keep her train of thought as the slid his hand up her arm and then back down it to firmly grasp her hand. "I just don't now if it's a good idea,' she weakly finished.

"I think it's a great one," he said, tugging her to him, so that her head was cushioned on his chest. He began to run his fingers through her hair.

"Woody…you've been sick."

"And I'm better now."

"But…"

"No buts." He was pulling her beneath the covers with him now, still keeping her prone on top of him. "There's no one here but us…we have the whole weekend."

"Exactly. And we should make sure you're all better before…."

"Jordan. I need you," he interrupted. "Not for that… not now. Later. Definitely. But I just need you here. Now. With me. I've noticed a side of you the last couple of days I haven't seen many times before…at least towards me. Tenderness. Compassion. Real concern. Why?"

"I hate seeing you sick. You've never been sick before…at least that I can remember."

Woody chuckled. "Did it scare you?"

"No, not exactly….it did make me wonder, though."

"Wonder what?" He was rubbing her back.

"Wonder what I would do without you…if anything ever happened."

"Now you know how I feel every time you go chasing after the bad guys without waiting on me."

She swallowed hard. "It's not a great feeling."

"I know." He continued to rub her back in lazy circles. "I couldn't bear to lose you, either. Know why?"

She shook her head. "No. You could do so much better than me, Woody."

He tilted her head to look in his eyes. "I couldn't handle losing you, because I need you to hold me tighter, too. To keep me focused. To remind me what's important. To let me know that someone in this big city really cares. That's why I need you here with me. Now. And for always."

Gazing in his eyes, Jordan knew he was telling her the truth. "I can do that. Hold you tighter. As long as you're holding me back."

"Deal," he said, lowering his lips to hers. This time the cell phone didn't ring. This time, no computer interrupted with e-mail alerts. This time, there was no strange little man that believed in aliens interrupting them. Woody rolled Jordan onto her back, deepening the kiss. It was a sweet kiss, full of promises of things to come, and with enough underlying passion to let her know that soon, as quickly as the cold left, and the planets realigned themselves one more time, he would hold her even tighter.

Until then, she had to feed his cold and starve his fever…and hold him tight.