The Wounded Recognized The Wounded.

Summerset, Don't You Ever Sleep?" "it's Lieutenant Dallas. She's--" Roarke Dropped His Briefcase, Grabbed Summerset By The Lapels. "has She Been Hurt? Where Is She?" "a Nightmare. She Was Screaming." Summerset Lost His Usual Composure And Dragged A Hand Over His Hair. "she Won't Cooperate. I Was About To Call Your Doctor. I Left Her In Her Private Suite." As Roarke Pushed Him Aside, Summerset Grabbed His Arm. "roarke, You Should Have Told Me What Had Been Done To Her." Roarke Merely Shook His Head And Kept Going. "i'll Take Care Of Her.

You--roarke." Eyes Watering, She Reached For More Tissue. "jesus, Eve. Jesus Christ, You Never Sleep With Anybody. And You're Telling Me You Slept With Roarke?" "that's Not Precisely Accurate. We Didn't Sleep.

I Hope That's True, Because I Figured Out Why I'd Never Finished It, What I Was Waiting For. I Was Waiting For You, Clare. For Them. For Us. I Want To Finish It Up For You, For Them, For Us.

I'll Walk You Back,"he Said With Such Apparently Boundless Amiability That Diana Wanted To Deck Him. "that Isn't Necessary," She Began As Her Hand Was Clasped By His. "i Suppose I Could Walk Ten Paces Behind Or Ten Paces In Front." As She Let Out A Frustrated Breath, Caine Grinned Down At Her. "you're Not Angry Because We Exchanged A Friendly Kiss? After All, We're Family." "there Was Nothing Friendly Or Familial About It," Diana Muttered. "no," He Lifted Her Hand To His Lips, Then Lightly Nipped At Her Knuckle. "maybe We Should Try Again.

She, As No Other Ever Could, Reached Every Corner Of His Heart. His Joy, And His Salvation.