"Do you know what the best thing about getting my sight back will be?" he asked softly. "No," she replied, all of the bravado gone from her voice. Straightening, he took one step toward her, then another. She refused to give ground until he was almost on top of her. Feeling the air shift as she retreated, he clumsily flanked her until their positions were reversed and she was the one backing toward the door. "Some might believe it would be the joy of watching the sun dip below a lavender horizon at the end of a perfect summer day." When he heard her back come up against the door, he splayed one palm against the thick mahogany behind her. "Others might judge it to be perusing the velvety petals of a ruby red rose..."--leaning forward until he felt the warm tickle of her breath against his face, he deepened his voice to a smoky caress--"or gazing tenderly into the eyes of a beautiful woman. But I can promise you, Miss Wickersham, that all of those pleasures will pale in comparison to the sheer unmitigated joy of being rid of you."