“You are wise as well as short.""I can also break bricks with my bare hands.""That's a handy skill if you ever find yourself walled up in the basement of an abandoned house by a psychopath.”

“Can you cook?""No."Drawing her brows together, she grabbed both of his ears and drew his head up. "Not at all? That's remarkably chauvinistic for a man whose policies primarily reflect the feminist viewpoint."Alan lifted a brow. "I don't expect you to be able to cook either." Amusement shot into his eyes. "Can you?"Shelby struggled with a grin. "Barely.""I find that odd for someone with your appetite.""I eat out a lot.”

“You said we've got a new page. I figure I've got some say in what gets written on it. So I'm going to work on you. Last time around, you threw yourself at me.” “I did no such thing.”“Sure you did. But I can see I've got my work cut out for me this time. That's okay.” He skimmed his thumb over her knuckles before she jerked her hand free. “In fact, I think I'm going to enjoy it.”“I don't know why I waste my time trying to mend fences with you. You're as arrogant as you ever were.”“Just the way you like me, sweetheart.”

“I'll give you a hand with the feeding.""I don't need it.""I'll give you one anyway."Keeley moved out of the box, rested a hand on the door. Best,she decided, to deal with this clean and simple. "Brian, you're working for my family, in a vital and essential role, so I think I should be straight with you.""By all means." The serious tone didn't match the glint in his eyes as she leaned back."You bother me," she told him. "On some level,you just bother me. It's probably because I just don't care for cocky, intense men who smirk at me, but that's neither here nor there.""No,that's here and it's there. What kind do you care for?""You see-that's just the sort of thing that annoys me.""I know.It's interesting, isn't it, that I find myself compelled to do just the thing that gets a rise out of you? You bother me as well. Perhaps it's that I don't care for regal, cool-eyed women who look down their lovely noses at me. But here wwe are, so we should try getting on as best we can.""I don't look down my nose at you, or anyone.""Depends on your point of view, doesn't it?”

“Don't you know that the less you tell someone, the more they want to know? You're better off to make something up than to say nothing at all.""I'm the youngest of twelve children of two South African missionaries," he said with such ease,she very nearly believed him. "When I was six,I wandered into the jungle and was taken in by a pride of lions.I still have a pechant for zebra meat.Then when I was eightteen,I was captured by hunters and sold to a circus.For five years I was the star of the sideshow.""The Lion Boy," Gennie put in."Naturally.One night during a storm the tent caught fire.In the confusion I escaped.Living off the land, I wandered the country-stealing a few chickens now and again.Eventually an old hermit took me in after I'd saved him from a grizzly.""With your bare hands," Gennie added."I'm telling the story," he reminded her. "He taught me to read and write. On his deathbead he told me where he'd buried his life savings-a quarter million in gold bullion. After giving him the Viking funeral he'd requested, I had to decide whether to be a stockbroker or go back to the wilderness.""So you decided against Wall Street, came here, and began to collect stamps.""That's about it.""Well," Gennie said after a moment. "With a boring story like that, I can see why you keep it to yourself.""You asked," Grant pointed out."You might have made something up.""No imagination."She laughed then and leaned her head on his shoulder. "No,I can see you have a very literal mind.”

“My apartment's only about a block away.""Isn't that handy.""Fate," he countered as he took a seat on the sofa and made himself at home. "Fantasic, isn't it?""One day very soon, I'm going to tell you what you can do with that fate of yours.”

“If I can make you unhappy, then I can make you happy as well.”