“She would try picturing him in his underwear, but that was even more disturbing since all it did was make her hot and even more nervous…He had to be the only man alive who could pull off intimidating in his tighty-whities.God, what if all that massive hotness was commando?”

“There was no denying she could get him all hot and bothered, but she could also soothe him with a look, make him laugh when he felt like crying, and more importantly, he knew she would be there when he needed her to.”

“She felt hot, strong, alive against him, and he found he had this crazy urge to move his mouth down to the side of her neck, to press it against her, to taste her skin. He wanted to feel her breasts, wanted to pull her T-shirt up and feel her hot skin against his. Damn, he wanted her.”

“She was more than willing to let him walk off his temper. And the man had one, even if he wasn't willing to admit it.”

“He was much changed and grown even thinner since Pyotr Ivanovich had last seen him, but, as is always the case with the dead, his face was handsomer and above all more dignified than than when he was alive.”

“She unlocked the door, but before she could turn the knob his hand covered hers. She turned and froze. “Clay,” she warned, but it was too late. His arm came around her, lifted her feet clear off the floor as he kissed her: hot, demanding, and all encompassing. His mouth was soft, hot and devastating. Megan let the shock ripple deliciously through her as she clutched his shoulders. There was a small thunk as the house key dropped to the step. Even through the layers of his tuxedo and her coat Meg felt the hardness of his body against her.”