"Is that what you think of me?" asked Irwin, managing to sound light, to sound amused, even if there's something churning in his stomach. At least in a classroom there had been some hope of controlling Dakin; there were boundaries, and rules.

Here, Irwin didn't know what chance he stood. Looking at Dakin, leather across his shoulders and the stretch of cotton across his chest, Irwin didn't feel like he stood a chance at all.

"I think I may be insulted."