“Trace asked Jackson, “Why the hell are you even here?”Jackson looked far too uneasy for Trace’s peace of mind. “I know you didn’t want me here. I got the message loud and clear when you cut the call. Thing is, your little lady was damned insistent that I do something.”“Like get stunned and tied up?”“You try planning with a hellcat breathing fire in your ear, making demands, prodding you-““Priss?”“She’s a terror. That name doesn’t suit her at all.”

“Spencer talked to Trace."Aha! "That--""And Trace told Dare. But no one told me because you swore everyone to secrecy, and I have to tell you, that annoys the hell out of me."-Jackson and Arizona”

“Emotion choked her. “Since meeting you you’ve made me feel a lot of things. But not guilt. Not even when I kicked you.”He smiled. “Glad to hear it. So what do you say we go check on your sister? I can almost picture her with her ear to the door.”Through the door, Natalie said. “Damn right. Now bring my sister back out here.”

“I'm telling you now. Without knowing for sure if you sent them, or why, I was left to my own discretion. If you want me to bother you with every little detail that comes up, just say so." He shrugged. "But I was under the impression that you wanted me to handle shit." Murray's face reddened with bluster. "I do, damn it.""They were shit," Trace explained. "They've been handled.”

“We have to figure this out, Jackson, so leash the lust.”His chin went up as he stared down at her. “Woman, you ask the impossible.”“Do it anyway!”

“She sleeps a lot these days ” Matt explained. “And she’s emotional to boot. If I didn’t love her so much I’d probably strangle her.”“Emotional?” “Yeah.” Matt Vereker a younger, masculine version of Ray, gave an ear-to-ear grin. “Pregnant women are like that, you know.” “Preg—” The bottom dropped out of his stomach. Eli fumbled for the chair behind him then fell into it hard. His head swam. She wasn’t seriously ill. “She’s… ” “If you can’t even say it, how the hell do you think Ray feels.”

“What the hell do you want, anyway?"'I just want to help you."Yeah, right. And then he'd sell her a bridge. He didn't know her, had no vested intereset in her--unless he hoped to get laid. Ha! Fat chance. He looked like he was poor, driving that old rattrap car and dressed in faded jeans.She clenched her hands into fists. "I'm not screwing you.""I didn't ask you to." And then, with some sort of warped amusement, he added, "I'm not that easy.”