“You’re as pretty as she is.”“Don’t be saying such things loud enough for herself to hear you, or she’ll skin us both.”Touched and amused, she kissed his cheek. And Shawn came through the door.It would have been comical, she decided, and was a pity that no one noticed but herself noticed the way he stopped dead in his tracks, stared, then jolted when the door swung back and slapped him in the ass.I liked how she was trying to make him jealous with Jack.Jack sighed into his beer when Brenna strode out. “She smells like sawdust,” he said more to himself than otherwise. “It’s very pleasant.”“What are you doing sniffing at her?” Shawn demanded.Jack just blinked at him. “What?”“I’ll be back in a minute.” He shoved up the pass-through on the bar, let it fall with a bang that had Aidan cursing him, then rushed through the door after Brenna.“Wait a minute. Mary Brennan? Just a damn minute.”She paused by the door of her truck, and for one of the first times in her life felt the warm glow of pure female satisfaction stream through her. A fine feeling, she decided. A fine feeling altogether.Schooling her face to show mild interest, she turned. “Is there a problem, then?”“Yes, there’s a problem. What are you doing flirting with Jack Brennan that way?”She let her eyebrows rise up under the bill of her cap. “And what business might that be of yours, I’d like to know?”“A matter of days ago you’re asking me to make love with you, and I turn around and you’re cozying up to Jack and making plans to have dinner with some Dubliner.”She waited one beat, then two. “And?”“And?” Flustered and furious, he glared at her. “And it’s not right.”She only lifted a shoulder in dismissal, then turned to open the truck door.“It’s not right,” he repeated, grabbing her again and turning her to face him. “I’m not having it.”“So you said, in clear terms.”“I don’t mean that.”“Oh, well, if you’ve decided you’d like to have sex with me after all, I’ve changed my mind.”“I haven’t decided—” He broke off, staggered. “Changed your mind?”

“It's not right," he repeated, grabbing her again and turning her to face him. "I'm not having it.""So you said, in clear terms.""I don't mean that.""Oh, well, if you've decided you'd like to have sex with me after all, I've changed my mind.""I haven't decided--" He broke off, staggered. "Changed your mind?""I have. Kissing you wasn't altogether what I thought it would be. So you were right and I was wrong." She gave him a deliberately insulting pat on the cheek." And that's the end of it.""The hell it is." He trapped her against the truck, quickly and firmly enough to have both excitement and annoyance rising inside her. "If I want you, I'll have you, and that's the end of it.”

“Listen,” he said, raising himself up on one elbow. “You don’t just decide one day you’re going to run a marathon, right? You have to do some training first.”“Aren’t you being glib about this?”His hands slid around her, inside her sweater, touching her naked back.Everything in her wanted to melt. Oh, just let it go, she told herself. “Am I the marathon?”He smiled and nodded. “The New York Marathon.”“The Boston is harder," she muttered.“Okay, you’re the Boston, then.”“And what was she? Just a little warm-up?”“She was like a 5K,” he said, so near her ear that she got goose bumps. “Well…maybe a 10K.”

“Tristan followed so close behind her she could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck. Again.“Ten foot rule,” called Nate. “Bite me!” Tristan hollered back, more hot breath caressing her skin with his words. A wonderful shiver ran through her body. Damn him and his beautiful mouth and hot breath and his leather-smelling shirt. She assumed he was headed to his own room in the basement, but when she walked into the guest bedroom, he followed her inside. She turned around to tell him to leave her alone, but his bright green eyes derailed her words. He was so pretty… No! No. He was not pretty. He was in danger of dying. Focus on the danger, Scarlet. She glared at him. “What are you doing?” “I’m sleeping with you.” Was he insane? She lifted a brow. “I thought you were mad at me.” “I’m concerned. Not mad.” “Huh. Well either way you’re not sleeping with me.” “Yes, I am.” He was insane. “No,” Scarlet repeated. “You’re not. You could die, Tristan. We can’t touch and we certainly can’t…sleep together.” She felt her face flush. A look of amusement crossed his face. “I meant sleep, Scar.” “Oh. Well.” She cleared her throat. “I don’t want to wake up next to a corpse, so, like…scram.”

“In the meantime, she and Jay sat shoulder to shoulder throughout the movie, and the warmth of his pressed up against her made it difficult for Violet to concentrate. She tried to remember when exactly he’d started to smell so good to her, or when his touch had become like a mood-altering narcotic.She glanced sideways to see if she could tell what he was thinking, if their casual contact was affecting him the way it was her, but his face was blank, completely unreadable, as he watched the action on the oversized screen.She leaned toward him and whispered, “I have to go to the bathroom.”She stood up to go. And so did he.She gave him a questioning look. “I’ll be right back,” she said quietly.He followed right behind her.“What are you doing?” She was starting to get irritated.“I’m going with you.”“Yeah, I got that,” she said, her voice getting louder now. “Why?”He pushed her along from behind until they were out of the darkened theater and standing in the dimly lit hallway.“I can go to the bathroom by myself,” she insisted, putting her hands on her hips and cocking her head to the side.“No, Violet. You can’t. I told your parents I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, and I meant it. Besides, until you decide to stop hunting for this guy, I’m not letting you do anything by yourself.” That stubborn set to his jaw was back. “Now, hurry up,” he said as he leaned casually against the wall outside the ladies’ room.Violet didn’t want to water her time arguing, so she just shook her head as she opened the door. “You’re crazy! You know that, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to answer as she disappeared into the empty bathroom, but she swore she heard the sound of his laughter following her inside.”

“As she lifted her own backpack over the side of the black, heavy-duty dodge pickup, Owen took it out of her hands and set it beside the one-man tent and sleeping bag the FBI had provided for him.“I could have done that,” she said.“Sure you could. But my daddy taught me a gentleman always helps a lady.” Bay was so startled at what he’d said, and the chagrined way he’s said it, that she laughed. “Oh, my god. Chauvinism is alive and well—”“We call it chivalry, or Southern courtesy, ma’am,” he said. She realized he was heading around the truck to open the door for her.She stepped in front of him and said, “It’s going to be a long trip if you refuse to let me pull my weight. I can get my own door, Mr. Blackthorne.”For a minute, she thought he was going to make an issue of it. Then he touched the brim of his hat, shot her a rakish grin that turned her insides to mush, and said, “Whatever you say, Mizz Creed.”She was so flustered, she took a half step backward, slid into the seat when he opened the door for her after all, and said, “My friends call me Bay.”Bay flushed as she realized what she’d said. As he came around the hood and got in, she said, “That is—I mean—you know what I mean!”He belted himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine, before he turned to her and said, “My friends call me Owe. You can call me Owen.”She stared at him disbelief. “Oh. You. Blackthorne, you.”