Andrea Kane Quotes

I don't believe this. And I thought running a corporation was hard? This isn't a wedding; it's a fucking conspiracy planned by pompous, cutthroat lunatics. Worse, they're delusional enough to believe they're visionaries. Wedding planners who want to color-coordinate flowers and bathroom accoutrements? What the hell's a bathroom accoutrement, anyway - toilet paper?

If you're looking for pity, forget it," Connie retorted. "You've passed up more dates than I care to count. You're married to your work." A pause. "And maybe to the past.

Did you say five hundred twenty-two people?"

"Um-hum. I'll kick in some extra cash, if you're running low."

"Cash isn't a problem. Space is. I don't need money. I need Shea Stadium.

Decision time. It's too dark for you to see your surroundings. So I'll describe. You choose." He pulled the pins out of her hair, tunneling his fingers through it as it tumbled to her shoulders. "The fireplace is across the hall. There's a shag rug in front of it. The living room's to our right. It has a wide, cushy sectional sofa. The den's to our left. It has a leather recliner that tilts way, way back. Upstairs, there are two bedrooms. The guest room's got a queen-size bed and a huge area rug. The master's got a king-size bed and extra pillows. What's your pleasure?"

"Where are the condoms?"

"In the master."

"Sold.

I so want to meet the other women. I hear their voices, their weeping. Maybe they can explain to me why we're here. Or maybe I don't want to know.

He made a choice, one his father didn't understand or agree with. But he still should have supported it. That's what love is about.

There'd never been any closure. There hadn't even been good-byes.

In one motion, Connor shrugged off his jacket, flung it aside, and went to her. "Where's the bedroom?" he asked in a heated voice.

She tipped her head toward the rear of the apartment. "Back there."

"Too far. I'm not sure I can last." He kissed her, a blatantly carnal kiss that reawakened all their earlier urgency, brought it screaming back to life.

"There's a couch in the living room," Julia managed, pointing to their left and shivering as Connor began unbuttoning her blouse. "That's a lot closer."

His lips burned a path from her collarbone to her throat. "Which is bigger, the couch or the bed?"

"The bed."

"Then I'll last." Connor was pulling her down the hall. "Barely.

Did you take me here so we'd relax, or so we'd be on safe ground because we're among lots and lots of people?"

He set down his glass, folding his hands on the table and leaning forward. "I took you here because the food and the sangria are great, and because it's far away from offices and hospitals. As for safe ground, I told you, there is none."

His voice lowered, took on a rough, provocative quality that sent shivers up her spine. "The crowd's irrelevant. The setting's irrelevant. I want you no matter where we are and no matter who we're with. I think you know that. What I want to do with you can't be done in a restaurant - any restaurant, busy or quiet. It requires total privacy, long uninterrupted hours, and a very big bed." He paused. "Actually, the bed is optional. I could improvise.

Someday you'll have to tell me the whole story behind you two."
"Maybe. But first, I have to figure it out myself.

Derek wished he had more of the right words to offer. But both he and Sloane knew those words didn't exist. So he gave her the only ones he had. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart.

The loss is hers. Let her remain in this ugly world, full of diseased and soulless people. While I and the true goddesses soar to Mount Olympus.
That's the greatest punishment I can impose on her, after all.