“I'm not going near anything that's going in the crack of his ass!”

“I matched him glare for glare and refused to back down. I’d learnt that much, working with the guys we recruited for protection work. Forget your average heavy…we used the elite. Ex-commandos used to living behind enemy lines on nothing more than fresh air and dung beetles, and who could zero in on a target using mouse farts three miles away.”

“She jotted down the order, then forced herself to meet his gaze. "It's going to be a bit of a wait, we're short-staffed this morning." The following words rushed out of her. "And breakfast's on me.""Normally, I wouldn't protest," he said, leaning closer. "But in public, I'd prefer a plate."An image of Rukh, hair untied, licking whipped cream off her navel flashed through her mind, left her staring.”

“I suppose a lot of teenage girls feel invisible sometimes, like they just disappear. Well, that's me—Cammie the Chameleon. But I'm luckier than most because, at my school, that's considered cool. I go to a school for spies.”

“Should she slam his head into the bar or toss her beer on him? Damn shame to waste good beer.”

“Oh heaven and hell, stop with the tears. Given the day Sarah had just had, the tears were logical. But watching her face crumple, hearing the gut-deep harsh sobs, filled Rukh with an irrational need to pull her into his arms, wrap her in a hug.As soon as the urge had gelled into conscious thought, his essence hardened into visibility and his arms slid up around her shivering, wet body.Sarah’s eyes popped open and she staggered back with a yell.His arms tightened around her, steadying her, keeping her close. Well, shit. At least, she’d stoppedcrying.Fear-bright green eyes stared at him instead.Given he was an assassin, sent to kill her, her response was natural, even intelligent. Yet, bitterness churned in his gut at the thought of her fearing him. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe.”“Am I hallucinating?” Her question came out as a croak.“Yes, yes you are.” That seemed a much better answer than the truth.She pinned him with her dark, direct gaze. “You’re just a figment of my imagination. A fantasy?”“Yes.” He didn’t dare move.“Then why are you still wearing clothes?”

“Because, though I'd seen and felt just a fraction of all the love in the world, I knew that when people thought of love they thought of moments. Whether or not a marriage worked out, or if they stayed together after graduation, or if they did go to the big dance together, the story's end mattered less, and the highlights in between mattered more. Those are what lingered, and what people can go back to, even when they had nothing left.”