“Probably just as well. Maybe with all that testosterone walking out the door, the insane urge to hump Lincoln Quinn’s leg would walk right out as well. Because that was exactly how she felt every time she looked at him. Like she was in heat. Within minutes, the restaurant had emptied out to only a few non-team wedding guests. Her nemesis was nowhere to be seen, and Em congratulated herself on her self-control as she eased off the bar stool. Embarrassing leg-humping avoided—bravo!”
Book:Playing the Player