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Everything about Garrett Gibson was . . . delicious. The dissecting gaze, the voice as crisp as the icing on a lemon cake. The compassion that drove her to treat the undeserving poor as well as the deserving. The purposeful walk, the relentless energy, the self-satisfaction of a woman who neither concealed nor apologized for her own intelligence. She was sunlight and steel, spun into a substance he’d never encountered before.
His fingers, dry and warm, returned to her neck with the lightest possible pressure. She felt the texture of a callus on his forefinger, like the rasp of a kitten’s tongue. The contrast between the brutal strength of his hands and the incredible gentleness of his touch caused gooseflesh to rise everywhere.
“My husband has a saying about risk taking: ‘God is good—but never dance in a small boat.’”
“Just because you can look a man in the eyes when you lie doesn’t mean you’ve fooled him.”
“Christ, you’ve ruined me,” he whispered. His arms went around her, one hand gripping the heavy silken mass of her braided chignon. She guided his head down, and he lost the battle, all his will vanquished as he began to kiss her as if the world were about to end. For him, it was.
“I’d love you night and day, if I could,” he whispered. “There’d be no limits for us. No shame. You and me, in the dark . . . that’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Ethan broke the kiss with a muted growl, the heat of his breath collecting in her ear as he bit gently at her earlobe. Embers caught low inside her and spread heat to every tender place in her body. She was light-headed, weak—every heartbeat riding on a hard-coursing breath.
“Keen, subtle, and quick, with an intellect strengthened by compassion—yes, she has a woman’s mind.” Thrown off guard, Garrett stared at him with a touch of wonder. In that brief, private moment, Ethan looked as if he really did prefer her to everything else in the world. As if he saw all of her, the good and the bad, and wouldn’t change a thing about her.
“Do you want to know why I gave you violets? They’re beautiful and small, but tough enough to grow in the cracks of city pavement. More than once, I’ve been in some dark place and seen them clustered near a broken stoop, or at the base of a brick wall, bright as jewels. Even without sunlight or good soil, they show up to do a flower’s job.”
“The first moment I saw you, I knew you were my share of the world. I’ve always loved you. If I could choose my fate, I’d never be parted from you. Acushla . . . pulse of my heart, breath of my soul . . . there’s nothing on this earth more fair and fine than you. Your shadow on the ground is sunlight to me.”
“Let go! I have to take care of him—he needs me—” “I can manage the basics of nursing him while you sleep.” “No, you can’t,” Garrett said weakly, and was horrified to hear a sob breaking from her throat. “Your patients all have four legs. H-he only has two.” “Which means he’ll be half the trouble,” West said reasonably.
West continued, “now that my blood is running through your veins, we’re practically brothers.” Ethan shook his head, perplexed. “Transfusion,” West explained. “You received ten ounces of Ravenel ’forty-nine . . . a fairly decent vintage, it seems, since it brought you back to life when your heart stopped after surgery.” He grinned at Ethan’s expression. “Cheer up, you might develop a sense of humor now.”
“Our existence, even our intellect, hangs upon love—without it, we would be no more than stock and stones.”
Dear old Papa was never one to let rational conversation get in the way of his fists.”
God help me, I’m going to protect my child from my own worst instincts. I’m going to block every violent, selfish impulse that was instilled in me. It won’t be easy. But I’ll be damned if I turn out a son who’s exactly like the father I hated.’”
No man is entitled to your blind obedience, no matter what he’s done for you. Furthermore, you don’t have to be your father’s son, especially if your father happens to be an amoral arse who’s hatching plots to kill people.”
