" Stay with me,” Bronson murmured. “The night is half-gone already.” “Mr. Bronson,” she asked suspiciously, “are you trying to compromise me?” His white teeth flashed in a grin, as if he were teasing her, but there was a disturbing hot glimmer in his gaze. “I could be. Why not spend the next few hours with me on this settee?” “Talking?” she asked faintly. “Among other things.” He touched the curve of her jaw with his forefinger, leaving a streak of fire along the sensitive curve. “I promise you would enjoy it. And afterward we'll blame it on the wine.” She could hardly believe he had dared to suggest something so outrageous. “Blame it on the wine,” she repeated in indignation, and giggled suddenly. “How many times have you used that phrase in the past, I wonder?” “This is the first time,” he assured her easily. “I rather like it, don't you? "

― Lisa Kleypas , Where Dreams Begin