“So as I shivered, naked and damp, in front of the bathroom mirror, I raised my eyes skyward. "I hope we're still okay."I got no answer, but then, I didn't really expect one. Answer or not, it didn't matter. That's the thing about faith, I guess.”

“You have to call Darth Sullivan your 'Liege'?"I grinned. "Only if I expect him to answer.”

“For now, with his emerald eyes locked on mine, where I was going didn't seem so scary.”

“Was I not tempting enough?” I asked him. “Not classy enough?” I didn’t expect him to answer, but he did. And that was almost worse. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” He’d stood up and slipped his hands into his pockets. I met his gaze and saw the green fire in his eyes. “You’re perfect—beautiful, intelligent, intractable in a kind of . . . attractive way. Headstrong, but a good strategist. An amazing fighter.”

“I tried to lighten the mood, and pointed at the house shoes - the last things I'd have expected to see Catcher Bell wearing. "And the shoes?" I asked with a grin."My house, my rules. These shoes happen to be comfortable," he said "If you two roamed around the house naked and carrying bows and arrows before I moved in, it's none of my business.”

“Jeff, I have a problem.” “I’m glad you’ve finally realized I’m your answer, Merit.”

“It's stupid, I know. I have this thing, this idea. This bullshit 'Mr. Darcy' idea, about the one that changes his mind. That comes back for me. And I'll look up some night, and he'll be there in front of me. And he'll stare at me and say, "It was you. It was always you.”