That meant Ms. Starkova was his. He’d found her; he’d tailed her; and he’d saved her from Reinhard Klein. By jungle law, even the urban jungle, that made her his.
He caught her, and he held her, and he let her cry, and cry, and cry, and he let her use his sheets to wipe her eyes, and her nose, and God knows what, because he had plenty of clean sheets, and he only had one Kat.
Hanson got to sleep with you, and I didn’t,” he said, his own jaw a little tight. “So I stole his car.
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.
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.
You stole my heart, Regan,“he told her. “And I don’t particularly want it back.
She was in love. In love with the same man she’d always been in love with-God save her.
Hawkins’s plan to be more careful was starting to include things like “carefully brushing her off,” and “carefully take her home,” where he could “carefully kiss her mouth” and “carefully take her clothes off.
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.
This isn’t about you, Skeeter. It’s about me, and I need you here. If we lose Crutchfield, we’ll get him another day. If I lose you...
Mission of mercy, he said, straightening up, his voice so cold, he could have owned the patent.
There was a lesson in here somewhere, he was sure. Or maybe he’d offended some ancient, pre-Columbian god while he’d been in South America -because this was a test.