“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

“He wouldn't let her work. You know, he was controlling. Some men are like that.' He gives me a quick sideways smily. 'Really? A controlling man, surely a mythical creature?' I don't think I can squeeze any more sarcasm into my response.”

“I struggle to keep up with him because my wits have been thoroughly and royally scattered all over the floor and walls of elevator three in the Heathman Hotel.”

“You love strapping me in, don’t you?” “In any form,” he says, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “You are a pervert.” “I know.” He raises his eyebrows and his grin broadens. “My pervert,” I whisper. “Yes, yours.”

“Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

“I thought I'd broken you.""Broken? Me? Oh no, Ana. Just the opposite."He reaches out and takes my hand. "You're my lifeline'" he whispers.”

“My heart beat spikes, and I think I’m panting. Jeez, I’m a quivering, moist mess, and he hasn’t even touched me. I squirm in my seat and meet his dark glare.”