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“Philip ripped at the wrapper of the plain, inadequately thin Hershey bar. "No almonds."

"I don't care for nuts."

"You proved that when you slammed your foot between the legs of your friend this evening.”
― Nora Roberts, Sweet Revenge

“And I'm not sensitive at all, Philip. Just
mean."
He smiled down at her. "Have you ever considered having an affair with a younger
man?"
She laughed, taking the compliment as it was meant. "You're a charmer. Since you amuse
me, I'll give you a little advice. Charm doesn't work on Addy. Patience might."
"I appreciate it," Philip said. He was watching Adrianne when she lifted a hand to her
throat and found it bare. He saw her instant of surprise and confusion, then the tightly
controlled temper as she zeroed in on him. With a smile he sent her a nod of
acknowledgment. Her necklace of faux diamonds and sapphires was resting comfortably
in his pocket.
The bastard. The low, slimy bastard. He'd stolen from her. He'd lifted the necklace right
off her throat without her feeling a thing but the pumping of her pulse. Then he'd taunted
her. He'd looked right at her and grinned.
He was going to pay for it, Adrianne thought as she tossed her gloves into her shoulder
bag. And he was going to pay for it tonight.
She knew it was reckless.”
― Nora Roberts, Sweet Revenge

“What do you want?"

His brow lifted at that, and he took a long, leisurely study of her face. "I'll let that pass,"he decided.

"It's too easy.”
― Nora Roberts, Sweet Revenge

“He walked outside onto the terrace and sat. Obviously settled and comfortable, he poured coffee. There were ways and ways to gain trust, he thought. With
a bird with a broken wing, it took patience, care, and a gentle touch. With a high-strung horse that had been whipped, it took diligence and the risk of being kicked. With a woman, it took a certain amount of charm. He was willing to combine all three.”
― Nora Roberts, Sweet Revenge

“Perhaps it was simple reflex, her own instinct for survival. Or perhaps it had been his
words, bringing back the horror of her mother's death. But when he reached for the
satchel, Adrianne ignored the knife and brought her foot up hard between his legs. The
knife clattered to the ground only seconds before he did.
"Bastard," she muttered as she sent the knife careening into the dark. "Now your pride's
as small as your brain and just as useless."
"Well put," Philip said as he came up behind her.”
― Nora Roberts, Sweet Revenge