Nevada Baylor személy

“What?”
“I missed you,”he said, his lips stretching into a slow, lazy smile. The ice in his eyes began to melt. “Did you miss me, Nevada?”
He said my name. “No.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“No. Never thought of you.”Just because I usually chose not to lie didn’t mean I couldn’t.
Rogan grinned and all of my thoughts went to the wrong places. He was almost unbearably handsome when he smiled.
“Stop it,”I growled.
“Stop what?”
“Stop smiling at me.”
He grinned wider.

Matilda looked at the three of us, walked up to Rogan, and held out the cat to him.
“I need to clean his eyes.”Her voice was so cute. “His tears are brown because of his smushed nose and he gets infected. He won’t hold still. He can’t help it.”
Rogan stared at her, stunned. I’d never seen that expression on his face before. It was almost funny.
“Will you hold my cat?”
Rogan blinked, reached out, and carefully took the cat from her arms. The cat purred like a runaway bulldozer.
Matilda opened her little Ziploc bag, took out cotton pads and a small plastic bottle, her tiny eyebrows furrowed in concentration. She wet the cotton and reached out to the cat. He tried to turn away, but Rogan held him tight.
“Hold still. Be a good kitty.”
Matilda stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, held up her cotton ball, and carefully wiped the cat’s left eye with it.
It was such an odd thing. Rogan—big, frightening, all coiled violence and icy logic—gently holding a fluffy cat for a tiny child a fraction of his size. I should take a picture, but I didn’t want to ruin it.

„Come with me to my house. I have some information you'll want.”
[…]
„I don't think so. But I'll be happy to discuss things with you in daylight in a very public place. Would you like my card?”
When I was in college, one of my professors liked creative descriptions, and whenever he had to indicate that some historical figure was in a moment of monumental rage, he'd say he had thunder on his brow and lightning in his eye. I never understood what that phrase meant until Rogan's face demonstrated it for me.
Cornelius took a careful step back. Troy backed up too. Yes, I did just tell Mad Rogan no, and look, the planet was still turning.

„Your life means absolutely nothing to him,” I continued. „When he doesn't like somebody, he hits them with a bus.”

„Let's see, you ask me to be your toy, I say no, you move on. You don't call, you don't write, you don't come by. You make no effort to prove to me that you wanted anything more than some casual sex.”
His eyes darkened. „There would be nothing casual about it.”

Enter my lair, said the dragon. I have shiny treasure for you to play with, I’ll keep you warm and safe, and if it suits my purpose, I’ll chain you to the floor and kill your client by throwing quarters at him with my magic. Been there, done that.

2.fejezet

“She wants lilacs in her wedding bouquet.”
“Okay . . .” Nevada had said she wanted carnations, but we could stuff some pretty pink lilacs in there. I didn’t see the problem.
“Blue,” Arabella squeezed out. “She wants blue lilacs.”
No and also no. “Nevada . . .”
“I had to hide in a bush of French lilacs yesterday and they were very pretty and smelled nice. The card on the tree said, ‘Wonder Blue: prolific in bloom and lush in perfume.’”
I googled French lilac, Wonder Blue. It was blue. Like in your face blue. “Why were you hiding in a bush?”
“She was being shot at,” Arabella said with a sour face.
“So you stopped to smell the lilacs while people were shooting at you?”

Chapter 1

A page from Bridal magazine was taped to my office glass door. It showed a woman in a spectacular grown made with white feathers. Someone – probably Arabella – had cut out my head from some selfie and pasted it over the bride's. A big heart, drawn in a pink marker and sprinkled with glitter, decorated the bride's dress. Inside the heart someone had written N+R = LURVE. Little pink hearts floated around my face.
Killer way to make the first impression.