“She smiles and slips her arm through his. Her tread is light and bouncy and I can almost see the ghost of her cheerleader's ponytail bobbing at the back of her head.”

“The urge at that moment to reach across and touch Willow--to link his fingers through hers as she rested her hand on her thigh, or stroke her bright hair back from her temple--was almost overpowering. He crossed his arms over his chest."Yep, definitely time for a coffee break," he said, closing his eyes. "You see right through me.”

“She grabbed her clutch bag and circled her arms around his neck. "Caulder McCutchen, I'm really not sure what you are."He lifted his head and looked down at her, squinted. "I'm a man. Enough said?"Velia smiled and looped her arm through his. "Yes, sir. Shall we go?”

“He looked at her curiously. He did something that surprised her then, and took her hand, turning it over. She looked down at it, at her bitten fingernails, the still-healing scratches along the backs of her fingers.He kissed the back of it, just a light touch of his mouth, and his hair-as soft and light as silk-brushed her wrist as he lowered his head. She felt a shock go through her, strong enough to startle her, and she stood speechless as he straightened, his mouth curving into a smile."Mizpah," he said.She blinked at him, a little dazed. "What?""A sort or goodbye without saying goodbye," he said.”

“Her hair looks like mine: dull, flat and stringy. The only difference is that she pulls hers back into a ponytail when she's working outside. Ponytails on guys are lame.”

“She tried not to slip her arms beneath his trench coat, or spread her palms across his broad, muscular back, or inhale the delicious scent of him, or rest her cheek against his hard, warm chest. She tried. And failed.”