“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.”

“And then when she takes him through the whole wine tasting process, finishing with a long, languid taste that she really enjoyed “she opened her eyes and saw Nick staring at her.“I feel like I need a cigarette and a shower after watching that.”

“Help me out here, Jeremy," she said pleadingly.He gave her a look. "Why should I do that?""Because once, nineteen years ago, you were wrong about him, too."Jeremy stared at her stoically. After a long pause, his face broke into a smile. "Aw, hell, you crazy kid, you knew I was gonna let you in—I'm a sucker for this stuff.”

“She asked him the question she had been asking herself for the past few days. "Why are you being so nice to me now?" J.D. leaned forward in his chair. He gazed directly into her eyes, and Payton suddenly found herself wondering why it had taken him eight years to look at her that way."Because you're letting me," he said softly.”

“I love you, Rylann." He cupped her face, peering down into her eyes. "And now I finally have a good answer to the one question everyone always asks me--why I hacked into Twitter. I didn't know it at the time... but I did it to find you again."She leaned into him, curling her fingers around his shirt. "That may be the best justification I've ever heard for committing a crime." She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "And I love you, too, you know.”

“Good. Or instead, what if I just told you that I love you?” Payton gazedinto 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, andanswered her with one word.“Finally.”

“Come with me to the Pacific Design Center.”“Why?”“Because I need help picking out a new couch,” he said, peering up at her uncertainly. “Isn’t that what friends do?”“Okay.”“Okay.” “Should we go?”Taylor went back inside her apartment and grabbed her keys. As she followed Jason out to his car, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey—can I drive the Aston Martin?”“No.”“But isn’t that what friends do?”“No.”“My, my, you’re awfully grumpy today . . . Is something wrong?”“Buckle up, sweetheart,” he told her. “This ain’t no PT Cruiser.”