“Can't introduce ya,' the feline admitted.'Why not?''Don't know his name.''Snuggling up to a man y'all don't know. My momma was right. Yankees are whores.''Well, I know him,' MacDermot volumteered.The She-wolf stared at her. 'So?''You said y'all.''I didn't say 'all y'all.' So I wasn't talking to you.''I don't understand your country-speak,' McDermot complained, dropping into the desk chair across from Crush.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?”Smitty glanced away from the computer screen he’d been staring at for the last three hours, looked at his sister, and shook his head. “No.”“What do ya mean no?”“You asked. Sorry if you didn’t like the answer. I always thought you were funny lookin’. Asked momma, ‘What is that thing laying in your bed?’ And she said, ‘I found it hiding under a car, you be nice to it now.”

“Are you my daddy?”Ricky Lee Reed, originally of Smithtown, Tennessee, and only replanted to New York City a few years back, gawked at the child who’d asked him the question for a mere moment before he turned his attention to the adult female who held the child.He’d admit it wasn’t a question he expected to get, you know, ever. For a bunch of reasons, too, but mostly because he didn’t know this woman. He wasn’t one of those guys who nailed so many females he forgot their faces or names. So then . . . why was this child asking him this question? And even stranger, why was the female raising her brows and suddenly asking, “Well . . . are you?”Wait. Wouldn’t she know? Shouldn’t she? Good Lord, this city.”

“I don't know which will upset you more," she replied. "Telling you it's nothing but clutter or confessing that I often take it out and play 'I am Boba Fett' when I don't think anyone can see me.”

“Understand?”“Sure.”“Good.”“’Cause I always love a challenge.”He’d caught her with that when she was halfway in the cab. With one foot in and the other still braced against the curb, she stared at him. “What challenge?”“You’re challenging me to get you back into my life.”“No, I’m not.”“Your exact words were ‘I challenge you, Bobby Ray Smith, to get me back into your life.’”“I never said that.”“That’s what I heard.” The beauty of wolf hearing. You heard only what you wanted to, made up what was never said but should have been, and the rest meant little or nothing.”

“Wow,” the bobcat muttered from his desk. “Your sister’s right. Your legs really are skinny.”Toni briefly thought about swiping all the cat’s crap off his desk, but that wasn’t something she’d do to anyone who wasn’t one of her siblings. But that was the beauty of being one of the Jean-Louis Parker clan . . . sometimes you didn’t have to do anything at all, because there was a sibling there to take care of it for you.“It must be hard,” Kyle mused to the bobcat. “One of the superior cats. Revered and adored throughout history as far back as the ancient Egyptians. And yet here you sit. At a desk. A common drone. Taking orders from lowly canines and bears. Do your ancestors call to you from the great beyond, hissing their disappointment to you? Do they cry out in despair at where you’ve ended up despite such a lofty bloodline? Or does your hatred spring from the feline misery of always being alone? Skulking along, wishing you had a mate or a pack or pride to call your own? But all you have is you . . . and your pathetic job as a drone? Does it break your feline heart to be so . . . average? So common? So . . . human?”Toni cringed, which helped her not laugh.”

“Irene closed her book and stared at the older Van Holtz. “I don’t dislike him. But that was recent. I used to not like him but he’s been very kind since I’ve been here. So now I like him. I’d almost say we are friendly…but perhaps that’s too big a leap at this stage.” He gave a soft laugh. “I see. Are you always this…uh…” “Brutally honest?” “I was going to say direct, but brutally honest works as well.” “Yes. I am. And I know—it’s a character flaw.” “Not at all. I love honest people.” “Everyone says that…until I say something they don’t like. Then I’m a bitch.”