“Remembered pain tightened his mouth into a grim line. The weeks he’d spent looking for her had left permanent scars on his heart.”

“You can’t possibly be afraid of trees.”

“She’d never known a man whose initial move was to undress the woman he wanted.”

“You’ve stopped crying. I’m glad. I don’t want you to cry anymore.”

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice tight. “But if I’d known there was going to be a firearms examination at the end of the kidnapping, by God, I would have studied for it!”

“I believe in love at first sight, and I believe that’s what we’ve got going here. I was willing to die for you. I’m sure as hell not going to pass up a chance to live with you.”

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”“No, we don’t.” He liked meeting like this, over her bare ass, a hot-off-the-presses copy of the Rocky Mountain News, and a steaming cup of coffee. It was so perfect, he planned on doing it every day for the rest of his life. He just hadn’t told her yet.”

“You’re staring at my ass.”“Yes, I am.” It’s what he did in the mornings, when she woke up and spent the first hour lying around in bed.”

“She’d kicked Klein’s ass and still had enough moxie to tag him, and enough physical strength to get herself out of a window ten feet up on the wall.He really should marry her.”

“The man in 4B wondered if he could have your autograph. He told me his daughter is a huge fan.”Fan? What the hell? Dylan lifted himself up and looked over the back of his seat. Since when did covert operators have fans?”

“It worried him. Like him, she had to be exhausted. She smelled like gasoline; her clothes were torn. She had a small white bandage on her forehead where the EMT had cleaned her cut. Dirt smudged her face, her arms, her legs. He knew she still didn’t have any underwear, and for the first time, he felt bad about it. Real bad. He wanted to protect her, make her feel secure, keep her from harm—and all he’d done was lose her underwear and practically get her blown up.”

“He wanted to paddle her himself, then shake her, then sit her down in a chair and explain to her why she must never, ever get herself in a situation where she could be shot at again—and then throw himself at her feet.”

“He should probably make love to her.”

“He needed to gather her up, hold on to her, anything to help her stop trembling. Something was going to shake loose if she didn’t.”

“She could not leave him hanging like this. “If you were hurt, I need to know.” It was a rule somewhere, in the good-guy handbook.”