Would you like to assist me with my choice of underwear as well?” My sarcasm whistled right over his head. “I would be delighted. While I’d love to see you in a balconette bra, I’m afraid for this particular occasion I would have to go with a foam-lined seamless due to the tight fit of the garment across your breasts . . . Perhaps I could come over and review what you have available . . .

Humans tend to segregate the world: enemies on one side, friends on the other. Friends are the people we know. Enemies are the Other. You can do just about anything to the Other. It doesn't matter if this Other is actually guilty of any crimes, because it is a matter of emotion, not logic. You see angry people aren't interested in justice, they just want an excuse to vent their rage.

Big bad merc, down with a basic hip toss. In your place I'd be blushing.

Mmmm, Kate, the Chief of Security. Sexy. Who better to guard my body then the woman who owns it?" "Curran, I will punch you.

George turned to her. His blue eyes widened. His lovely face took on a forlorn, deeply troubled expression. He leaned forwar, and, in a theatrical whisper, said, 'My past is tragic. I wouldn't want to burden you with it. It's a pain I must suffer alone. In the rain. In silence.

Yes I can,” Curran snarled. “Listen: this is me telling you what you will not do.” I raised the cookbook and tapped him on the nose. Bad cat.

Since we’re playing that game… I tilted my face up to his and gave him a lovesick gaze. “Do you have to sneeze?” he asked. “Be quiet. I’m pretending to enjoy your company, just as you said.” “Try not to strain anything.” “Oh, I won’t. I’m very good at faking it.” That shut him up.