Passion on Park Avenue

I’ll take care of the hospital bills. It’s my fault you’re here. And I’m glad you’re okay, but Naomi . . .”

“You’re no longer a puzzle I’m interested in solving.”

“Maybe. But I have other pieces, too.”

“I’ve found another one of your corner pieces, Naomi. The one that shows you’re dishonest and maybe a little revenge-hungry.”

Since the day he’d met her, she’d gotten under his skin, pissed him off, confused the hell out of him, and he was damn grateful for it. Naomi Powell had brought him back to life, made him realize that he hadn’t died with his mom, or with his father’s diagnosis; he’d just been living that way.

It was too damn late. He was already falling for her. Falling for every one of her moods, and there were many. Falling for her strength and her vulnerabilities, falling for the fact that she was kind even when she didn’t want to be

“Friday night. Before you got scared and ran away.”

When did I look at you like I wanted you to kiss me?”

“That next time you look at me like you want me to kiss you, I will.”

“Warning me about what?”