“Alone, Roarke took the gray fabric button from his pocket, the one he’d found on the floor of his limo. The one that had fallen from the jacket of that drab gray suit she’d worn the first time he’d seen her. Studying it, knowing he had no intention of giving it back to her, he felt like a fool.”

“Alone, Roarke took the gray fabric button from his pocket, the one he’d found on the floor of his limo. The one that had fallen from the jacket of that drab gray suit she’d worn the first time he’d seen her. Studying it, knowing he had no intention of giving it back to her, he felt like a fool.”

— J.D. Robb