“You don’t annoy me.” Carefully he rebuttoned the placket of her shirt. “I thought you did, at first. But now I realize it was more like the feeling you get when your foot’s been asleep. And when you start moving, the blood coming back into it is uncomfortable . . . but also good. Do you understand what I mean?”“Yes. I make your feet tingle.”A smile came to his lips. “Among other things.”

“Rest,” Logan said. “Both of you.” His caressing gaze moved over his wife and infant daughter.“I'll watch over you.”“Love me?” Madeline asked with a faint smile, and yawned again.“It used to be love.” He brushed his lips over her closed eyelids. “Now there's no word for it.”“You once told me that you thought love was a weakness.”“I was wrong,” he whispered, kissing the corners of her mouth. “I've discovered it's my onlystrength.”Madeline fell asleep with a smile still on her lips, her hand curled around his.”

“I love you," Sam said, and set his mouth against hers, and broke off the kiss because he had to say it again. "I love you."Lucy's trembling fingers came to his lips, caressing them gently, "Are you sure? How do you know it's not just about sex?""It is about sex...sex with your mind, sex with your soul, sex with the color of your eyes, the smell of your skin. I want to sleep in your bed. I want you to be the first thing I see every morning and the last thing I see at night. I love you the way I never thought I could love anyone.”

“You know,” she said dreamily, passing over his question, “you’re not nearly as handsome as Lord St.Vincent.”“There’s a surprise,” he said dryly.“But for some reason,” she continued, “I never want to kiss him the way I do you.” It was a good thing that she had closed her eyes, for if she had seen his expression, she might not have continued. “There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it’s because you’re so proper. Your necktie is never crooked, and your shoes are always shiny. And your shirts are so starchy. Sometimes when I look at you, I want to tear off all your buttons. Or set your trousers on fire.”

“I don’t want to be a widow, I don’t want Michael Bayning, and I don’t want you to joke about such things, you tactless clodpole!”As all three of them stared at her openmouthed, Poppy leapt up and stalked away, her hands drawn into fists.Bewildered by the immediate force of her fury—it was like being stung by a butterfly—Harry stared after her dumbly. After a moment, he asked the first coherent thought that came to him. “Did she just say she doesn’t want Bayning?”“Yes,” Win said, a smile hovering on her lips. “That’s what she said. Go after her, Harry.”Every cell in Harry’s body longed to comply. Except that he had the feeling of standing on the edge of a cliff, with one ill-chosen word likely to send him over. He gave Poppy’s sister a desperate glance. “What should I say?”“Be honest with her about your feelings,” Win suggested.A frown settled on Harry’s face as he considered that. “What’s my second option?”

“There is something about you that makes me feel terribly wicked. You make me want to do shocking things. Maybe it's because you're so proper. Your necktie is never crooked, and your shoes are always shiny. And your shirts are so starchy. Sometimes when I look at you, I want to tear off all your buttons. Or set your trousers on fire. I've so often wondered-are you ticklish, my lord?”

“No," I said automatically, "don't do anything about Dad. You can't fix my relationship with him.""I can block or run interference.""Thanks, Jack, but I don't need blocking, and I really don't need any more interference."He looked annoyed. "Well, why did you waste all that time complaining to me if you didn't want me to do something about it?""I don't want you to fix my problems. I just wanted you to listen.""Hang it all, Haven, talk to a girlfriend if all you want is a pair of ears. Guys hate it when you give us a problem and then don't let us do something about it. It makes us feel bad. And then the only way to make ourselves feel better is to rip a phone book in two or blow something up. So let's get this straight — I'm not a good listener. I'm a guy.""Yes you are." I stood and smiled. "Want to buy me a drink at an after work bar?""Now you're talking," my brother said, and we left the office.”