Anya jumped in front of the man, acting as his shield. “Now, Sabin. He didn’t mean any harm. He’s borderline stupid. You know that.

The word of the day is legs. Let's go back to my place and spread the word.

He gave her what no one else had ever been able to give. A past to cherish. A present to enjoy. A future to anticipate

We can't spy on them if they aren't spying on us, now can we?" Warped logic, but okay.

She’d already decided to be with him. If only to wipe him from her mind, get him out of her system and stop the fantasies plaguing her. If only to prove to herself that being with him would not be pleasurable for her.

See? This was how he’d gotten me to fall in love with him. At times like this he made me feel like the most treasured woman in the world. “So you don’t remember doing this to me? Naked? In the shower? On the bed? On the floor?” With Matt Damon? Okay, how had the Sarah Silverman video gotten in my head, now of all times?

He reclined on a delightfully cushioned lounge in the sprawling ranch Paris had rented. In Dallas, Texas, of all places. Promiscuity had decked himself out, too, wearing a Stetson (weird), no shirt (understandable), unfastened jeans (smart) and cowboy boots (weird again). Dude looked ready to rustle cattle or something.