Whatever soul I had, Katie, I think I placed it in your keeping twenty years ago. And now, it's as if...every time we kiss, you give a little piece of it back.

Oh no. Don't smile. You'll kill me. I stop breathing when you smile.

Kate realized she had a grave problem. She was infatuated. Or mildly insane. Possibly both.

You’re a terrible cook. That I’ll grant you. You can’t hold your liquor, either. And you have questionable taste in men. So no, you’re not perfect.” His voice sank to a husky whisper, and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “But you’re close. Close enough to restore a man’s faith in miracles.

A man might engage in flirtation with distinterest, even disdain. But he never teases without affection.

He kissed her. Without warning, without permission. Without even deciding to do it, but simply because he couldn't have done anything else. He needed that breath she was holding. It belonged to him, and he wanted it back.

I have to go," he said. "You don't understand. Someone wants to kill me. "Someone wants to kill you?" she repeated. "Well, I want to make love to you. My goodness, Julian. With two such compelling alternatives, however will you choose?