“You’re very attractive, Ilya,” Shane said, in an exaggerated, placating tone. “Not good enough. I want details.” Shane opened his eyes, and rolled them. But he said, “That crooked fucking smile of yours. I can’t even tell you...that smile haunts me.” “Haunts you? Like a ghost? That doesn’t sound like a good thing.” “It is. And your eyes. I love your eyes.” “So romantic, Hollander.”
