“If it was my job to clean the kitchen after dinner,then that damn kitchen was going to sparkle so bright you'd need sunglasses for your midnight snack.""That's frightening."Responding to the humor in his eyes, she nodded.”

“An hour later, thoroughly appalled with the state of the cabin now that she had given it a thorough assessment, Camilla sailed into the shed. She was armed with a long list."You need supplies.""Hand me that damn wrench."She picked up the tool and considered herself beyond civilized for not simply bashing him over the head with it. "Your home is an abomination. I'll require cleaning supplies - preferably industrial strength. And if you want a decent meal, I'll need some food to stock the kitchen. You have to go into town."He battled the bolt into submission, shoved the switch on. And got nothing but a wheezy chuckle out of the generator. "I don't have time to go into town.""If you want food for your belly and clean sheets on which to sleep, you'll make time.”

“Are you telling me you're cooking me dinner?- Regan Its the quickest way, without physical contact, to get a woman into bed. The kitchen through there?”

“Well, Ms. Fontaine, you look damn good for a dead woman."Her response was to narrow her eyes, arch a brow. "If that's some sort of cop humor, I'm afraid you'll have to translate.”

“You gonna have dinner with her and everything?"Grant lifted a brow but managed to keep his composure. Everything, he reminded himself, meant different things to different people. At the moment it conjured up rather provocative images in his brain. "Things are presently unsettled," he murmured, using one of Macintosh's stock phrases. Catching himself, he grinned. "Yeah, we're going to have dinner." And something, he added as he strolled out after Gennie."What was all that about?" she demanded."Man talk.""Oh,I beg your pardon."The way she said it-very antebellum and disdainful-made him laugh and pull her into his arms to kiss her in full view of all of Windy Point.As the embrace lingered on,Grant caught the muffled crash from inside Fairfield's. "Poor Will," he murmured. "I know just how he feels." Humor flashed into his eyes again. "I better start around in the boat if we're going to have dinner...and everything."Confused by his uncharacteristic lightheartedness, Gennie gave him a long stare. "All right," she said after a moment. "I'll meet you there.”

“You need a place just a click over middle range. Don’t want to go all-out first time, but you don’t want to run on the cheap either. You want atmosphere, but not stuffy. A nice established place.”“Bob, you’re going to give me an ulcer.”“This is all ammunition, Cart. All ammo. You want to be able to order a nice bottle of wine. Oh, and after dinner, if she says how she doesn’t want dessert, you suggest she pick one and you’ll split it. Women love that. Sharing dessert’s sexy. Do not go on and on about your job over dinner. Certain death. Get her to talk about hers, and what she likes to do. Then—”“Should I be writing this down?”

“Can we go back to the part where you're in love with me?""No, because I'm not anymore. I've come to my senses.""That's a damn shame, that is. You'll have to wait here a minute. There's something I need from inside.""I'll not stand out here. I'm going home.""I'll only come after you, Brenna," he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door.”