“All my relationships are short and sweet. Well...short, anyway.""Mine too."I sat in a leather chair near the sofa. It was stylish but uncomfortable, shaped like a cube and encased in a polished chrome frame. "I guess that's bad, isn't it?"He shook his head. "It shouldn't take a long time to figure out if someone is right for you. If it does, you're either dense or blind.""Or maybe you're dating an armadillo."Gage shot me a perplexed glance. "Pardon?""I mean someone who's hard to set to know. Shy and heavily armored.""And ugly?""Armadillos aren't ugly," I protested, laughing."They're bulletproof lizards.""I think you're an armadillo.""I'm not shy.""But you are heavily armored."Gage considered that. He conceded the point with a brief nod. "Having learned about projection in couples counseling, I'd venture to say you're an armadillo too.""What's projection?""It means you accuse me of the same things you're guilty of""Good Lord," I said, lifting the wineglass to my lips. "No wonder all your relationships are short.”

“Did you fall in love with her?""I care about her. A lot.""You're not supposed to marry someone if you don't fall in love with her.""Well, love is a choice, too."Holly shook her head. "I think it's something that happens to you."Mark smiled into her small, earnest face. "Maybe it's both," he said, and tucked her in.”

“I want you," he muttered. "Get rid of him and take me. The only risk is losing someone you don't have anyway. He's not what you need, Ella. I am""Unbelievable," I said in disgust."What's unbelievable?""Your ego. It's surrounded by its own cloud of antimatter. You're a black hole of...of hubris!”

“You'll be my wife," he said inexorably."You want to own me!" she accused, trying to crawl away from him."Yes." He flung her down on the bed and flattened his weight on her. As he spoke, his hot breath fannedher mouth and chin. "Yes. I want other people to look at you and know you're mine. I want you to takemy name and my money. I want you tolive with me. I want to be inside you . . . part of your thoughts . . . your body . . . all of you. I want you totrust me. I want to give you whatever elusive, impossible, goddamned mysterious thing it is you need inorder to be happy. Does that frightenyou? Well, it frightens the hell out of me. Don't you think I'd stop feeling this way if I could? It's not as ifyou're the easiest woman in the world!!”

“Can't you just tell me now?""No, I need someone to eat with."A slight smile rose to my lips. "Am I supposedto believe that I'm your only option?""No. But you're my favorite option.”

“I feel the curve of his smile against my skin. But as he lifts his head and looks into my eyes, his grin fades. "Haven . . . I don't know if I'm going to be a good father. What if I don't do it right?"I am touched by Hardy's concern, his constant desire to be the man he thinks I deserve. Even when we disagree, I have no doubt that I am cherished. And respected. And I know that neither of us takes the other one for granted.I have come to realize you can never be truly happy unless you've known some sorrow. All the terrible things Hardy and I have gone through in our lives have created the spaces inside where happiness can live. Not to mention love. So much love that there doesn't seem to be room for bitterness in either of us."I think the fact that you're worrying about it at all," I say, "means you'll probably be great at it.”

“I can't see why you should want to dance with me now, when you never have before." The statement was more revealing than she had intended it to be. She cursed her own wayward tongue, while his speculative gaze wandered over her face."I wanted to," he surprised her by murmuring. "However, there always seemed to be good reasons not to.""Why--""Besides," Westcliff interrupted, reaching out to take her gloved hand, "there was hardly a point in asking when your refusal was a forgone conclusion." Deftly he pressed her hand to his arm and led her toward the mass of couples in the center of the room."It was not a forgone conclusion."Westcliff glanced at her skeptically. "You're saying that you would have accepted me?""I might have.""I doubt it.""I did just now, didn't I?""You had to. It was a debt of honor."She couldn't help but laugh. "For what, my lord?""The calf's head," he reminded her succinctly."Well, if you hadn't served such a nasty object in the first place, I wouldn't have needed to be rescued!""You wouldn't have need to be rescued if you didn't have such a weak stomach.""You're not supposed to mention body parts in front of a lady," she said virtuously. "Your mother said so."Westcliff grinned. "I stand corrected.”