“Shaw grinned again, wishing mightily that he and she were alone by the fire. “I never claimed to be much of a gentleman. But whether you tote about a parasol or not, you are every inch a lady. Quite possibly the finest I’ve ever met.”“Goodness. If you continue saying such things, I’ll begin to think you’re smitten with me.” “I’d describe it more as being clubbed into submission,” he murmured, aware both that her palm had come to rest just over his heart, and that his men and the Mayfair mob across the fire pit could see it. “But yes, I am rather smitten with you.”

“And you’re prickly enough about being young.”She was amusing him. “More than ever, I feel as if I’ve robbed the cradle.”But she knew how to puncture his mirth. “You are very old,” she agreed demurely.He pushed her backward onto the grass.She laughed and fought him. Within minutes he had her arms trapped over her head, and he kissed her while the world whirled around them. “I win!” he said against her lips.“Only because you used brute force.”“It’s better than drugs in a glass of wine,” he retorted.“You would think so, since you hold the brute force.”He grinned down at her. “But I did win.”“Yes, yes, you won.” She dismissed his boasting as if it were of no consequence. “Are you ever going to forget that stupid manacle?”“No, I think I’ll be bringing it up at inconvenient moments for the rest of our lives.”At his ill-thought-out words, they both froze, their eyes wide with shock. The rest of their lives?Their gazes shifted away from each other.”

“You liked me."I smiled. "You were smitten with me. You were speechless to behold my beauty. You had never met anyone so fascinating. You thought of me every waking minute. You dreamed about me. You couldn't stand it. You couldn't let such wonderfulness out of your sight. You had to follow me."I turned to Cinnamon. He licked my nose. "Don't give yourself so much credit. It was your rat I was after."She laughed, and the desert sang.”

“The reason why the book begins with the wish to “play back” how the two met is precisely to see if repeating the scenario might tell the narrator why he is so thoroughly smitten, to play with the scenario all over again, perhaps to master it, as Freud says about repetition. But there cannot be a “reason.” An attraction that needs a reason is not a reason the heart or the body cares much about.”

“You’re right,” Jacks said. “You’re not part of my world. You’re not one of those girls. And maybe that’s why.” “Why what?” “Why I can’t stop thinking about you.” Maddy rolled her eyes. “Guys like you don’t say that to girls like me.” “I’ve never said that to anyone, actually,” Jacks corrected. “In fact, I’ve never done anything like this before.” He let out a little laugh. “How am I doing?” He swallowed hard, trying to push down his nervousness. He was astonished to realize he was nervous. Somehow being around Maddy just put him in a different space. Jacks felt so present. Maddy stared at him, letting the anger and frustration surge through her. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked finally. He paused, considering. “I’m being honest. I know you may not believe me. But I haven’t been able to not think about you. When we were in the back at the restaurant, and . . .” Jacks’s voice trailed off, his face coloring. “I still feel terrible about what I did. I lied to you and, even though I had good reasons for it, it was wrong of me.” Maddy studied him. Was he telling the truth? Jacks smiled. “I mean this in the best possible way: I’m not going to leave you alone until you let me make it up to you. I’m serious. I’ll be here every night. You might as well get me some pajamas and a toothbrush.” Despite her best efforts not to, Maddy laughed. She looked at Jacks and could see the faintest twinkle of light in his eyes. “So what you’re saying is that I should just give in and let you make it up to me. Otherwise you’ll be tormenting me like this for the rest of my life?” “Pretty much. Yeah.” “Well.” She sighed. “What do you have in mind?” “Come fly with me.”

“I’d rather spend the rest of my life without ever seeing you again,” he says, “than watch them destroy you because of me.” His hand slips to the back of my neck, skimming over my Mark, and stops in my hair. He leans down and kisses my forehead. I long to reach up, close my fingers over his arm, keep him here. He pulls away but not by much. His mouth lingers on my forehead and then, as if with an effort, he straightens.“Want him,” he says, his face hidden in shadow, “not me. He’d love you more than I could.”Then he leaves me alone.”