And you . . . staring up at him, all starry-eyed and breathless—" "I wasn't!" "The picture was too perfect. A New England Christmas. Two childhood sweethearts sharing old memories—" "You're being unreasonable!" "You would have been a handsome couple. You do suit each other quite well." "I don't think so," she said quickly, placing a small, restraining hand on his chest as he towered over her. "Oh?" The bright flare of jealousy in his gaze showed no signs of diminishing. "No—I don't prefer that kind of man at all. He's . . . he's too short, for one thing. I never realized before how short he was. And his hair… well, it’s much too dark. I prefer lighter hair more." Heath's grip loosened marginally, a sign that encouraged Lucy to continue. "He's too quiet, too predictable…too straight-laced. I would die of boredom if I to spend more than five minutes with him. He doesn’t like to argue or swear, and he doesn't drink too much or lose his temper. He's not the kind who would appreciate black silk pantalets." “He has a respectable family that everyone approves of.” “I don't care about what anyone else thinks." Heath yanked her closer to him, his savage mood barely concealed. His fingers bit into the backs of her shoulders, but not harshly enough to leave bruises. Thick gold-tipped lashes lowered over azure eyes as he stared down at her mouth. “You’ve wanted him ever since you were a child,” he pointed out gruffly. “Until my taste matured." “He’s a gentleman." “Yes. That's the worst thing of all.

— Lisa Kleypas

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