“How old are you, Billie?” “Thirty-three.” “With such innocent eyes for a cutthroat Illicit reporter.” She studied his expression, found it sincere. “Despite rumors to the contrary, not all of us fit the hard-hitting mold.” “I see that.” He reached up and brushed an errant strand of hair from her cheek, a tender gesture that caught her completely off-guard. “And I like it.”
Book:The Fifth Favor