He strained to say something else. I leaned toward him. He focused on me. “Rape,” he promised. “Many, many times. Until you bleed . . .” “I’m so flattered.

Are you implying that our relationship is like a Spanish soap opera?” “I’m not implying. I’m saying it.

You sure you don’t want to kiss me good-bye, baby?

I gave him my hard stare. “You're a control freak and I fight all authority. And you want us to mate?” A wicked spark lit his eyes. “Many, many times.

Georgie, stop trying to resurrect the shoes. They were never alive in the first place.

First rule of bodyguard detail: know where your 'body' is at all times.

Only poor people are weird. Rich people are eccentric.