It’s not a woman’s fault if a man decides to behave like an ass.

Do you feel like you’ve been through a meat grinder or just tumbled around in a cement mixer?

Pinched silence. Then, “You were the one making eyes at him, always putting yourself in his path.

Was the story of his life written on her heart? Was the story of her life written on his?

She wasn’t entirely sure if she was being rescued or kidnapped.

Why did you do that?" she asked, weakly, but, hey, the fact that she could talk at all was a minor miracle. "You needed to be kissed." For some reason, the tone of masculine satisfaction in his voice needled her. "I needed it? Really?" "Fine, I needed it.

Tomorrow, said the voice of fear in her head. It always said, tomorrow, whether it talked about going to the grocery store or starting a new painting. Tomorrow you'll be brave, fear whispered. Tomorrow you'll be normal. Just give me today. That was how fear stole whole lives away.

Do you know what the difference is between men and women when it comes to sex?” he asked when he could form thoughts again. “What?” she inquired weakly. “Women want romance, eye contact, tenderness, a true soul-to-soul collection, the earth to shake, sparks to fly.” He opened his eyes at last and looked at her beautiful, flushed face. “Men just want to last long enough not to embarrass themselves.

Hey,” he called after her, his hands on his hips, “are therapists supposed to give patients heart attacks?

Big family?” “One grandfather and one cousin.” “How do they feel about the nature-therapy thing?” She grinned. “you make it sound like I’m a pole dancer.