“So, what you're saying is that I bring out your book - wielding, short tempered side?" He hooked his foot through the straps of my backpack and brought in front of him. "Removing temptation."I gave him a look that communicated he should wither and die.”

“I stopped at a red light, turned my head, and allowed myself to enjoy the handsomeness that was Brent.He noticed my staring and asked, "What?""As if you don't know. You're not the type of guy that a girl gets tired of looking at.""Oh. Well in that case, you're welcome to look all you want," he said and gestured to himself. "You're allowed to touch, too." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.I lowered my voice into its sexy-husky range. "I was hoping you'd say that." With my flirtiest look on my face, I rubbed my hand slowly up his arm and then pinched him firmly on the shoulder."Ow!" Brent rubbed his shoulder and grinned. "Not what I had in mind!”

“Right,” I fumed, my index finger poking him in thechest. “So we’re even then. My kiss didn’t count because itwas an accident and yours didn’t count because it wasstrictly for medical purposes. Neither of them counted askisses.”“Would you have wanted them to?” Brent demandedsuddenly, bending his neck so he whispered it in my ear”

“Brent put his arm around me whispering, “I know.” I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with the fact that we had conquered Thomas, if he knew thereal reason I had risked so much to save him, or if he understood why I was crying. I decided it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that he washolding me.”

“A few minutes after discovering we had a goal but no plan, Brent was laughing heartily at a pathetic joke I had made. It reminded me of the firstday on campus when I had thought his laughter sounded like a melody. It did now, even more so. It was music, beautiful, in a manly way, like asensual, slow jazz. I loved jazz.“Jazz, huh?” Brent asked, his voice suddenly husky.“Uh . . . what?”“My laugh reminds you of jazz? Is there anything about me you don’t find attractive?” He rubbed his hand over his lips trying to cover his smirk.“So tell me, how much do you love jazz?”I’m sure my face was pinker than the inside of a watermelon. “I didn’t say any of that.”“You didn’t have to say it, Yara, I could hear it.” Brent tapped the side of his head. “I can hear your thoughts.”“You’re not serious.”“Oh, but I am,” he said, completely straight-faced.”

“Will you please stop peeking at me like that? This is degrading enough as it is.""Did it ever occur to you," I said, with a sly smile and a wink, "that you're irresistibly handsome, I can't keep my eyes off of you?"He threw his head back in a laugh. "Of course. I should have realized.”

“He looked like he wanted to say something but his jaw tensed andinstead he let his hand travel from my elbow to my hand, the strong pulse from his fingers like a balm to my injured soul. I raised our entwined handsand placed them over the steady thumping of his heart a twin of the rhythm in my own chest. I pressed my head to his chest letting the steady paceof his heart and his citrusy, musky scent envelop me, lull me into a place of security. A place safe enough that I didn’t have to pretend I was okay. Ifailed to sniff back the tears that began to leak from me.”