J.D. cleared his throat and pushed the button on the intercom. “Uh, Payton, hi. It’s J.D.” Dead silence. Then another crackle. “Sorry. Not interested.” Cute. But J.D. persisted. Again with the button. “I want to talk to you.” Crackle. “Ever hear of a telephone, asshole?” Okay, he probably deserved that.

I think the first thing we need to talk about is you not running around in tight T-shirts and yoga pants.” “Fine. I’ll stop doing that as soon as you shave.” Jack ran his hand along his jaw and grinned. “You like the scruff, huh?” Did she ever.

J.D. nodded. Yes, yes, fine, thank you. Nice attitude, by the way. Like boss, like secretary.

Good. Or instead, what if I just told you that I love you?” Payton gazed into his eyes. “What would you say, J. D. Jameson, if I told you that?” J.D. smiled. He touched his forehead to Payton’s, closed his eyes, and answered her with one word. “Finally.

If you also thinks it means I wake up every morning wondering what I did to deserve having you back in my life, well, you'd be right about that too.

Don't take this next undercover assignment. Stay with me instead." Nick's eyes pierced hers, refusing to let her off that easily. "Tell me why." "Because... I love you." She exhaled. No take-backs. The words were out there forever. And it felt great.

Where is Wilkins, anyway?" Cameron asked. "In the living room, being accosted by eighteen women who think he's a stripper. I thought it was best to duck in here." "So much for never leaving a man behind." "If he starts screaming, I'll lay down a cover fire and go pull him out.