394 Quotes About Ghost

So where do you want me?" she finally asked in order to fill the stifling silence.Something blazed in his eyes for a second, a quick flash that brightened the ebony of his impassive gaze. Then whatever it was disappeared so fast she was left wondering if she'd really seen anything at all.Nah, she decided, surely not, because that would mean she fired some emotion in him, and as far as she knew, the man was a complete cyborg.

Sugar. He'd taken to calling her that. She wasn't sure if she should be flattered or irritated. She certainly didn't feel like sugar, not today. Today, she felt far too...unmoored to be something as fine and delicate as sugar.Syrup, maybe. All messy and sticky and slow moving.Yeah, she could probably go along with being called syrup.

Fine," she hoisted her purse higher and her gaze snagged on the delicious bulge of his male butt hugged so lovingly in a pair of khaki cargo shorts. Wow. Talk about a glutenous maximus that defied gravity. Even though he was a complete jackass, she couldn't help but drool.

She shot him a look."What?" he asked."Where's my journal? I want to jot this down for posterity."Huh?He lifted a confused brow and she smirked, ornery light glinting in her amber brow."You just spoke, like what? A whole four sentences? Not to mention there were a few adjectives thrown in there. That must be some sort of record. It should be memorialized accordingly, don't you think? She batted her lashed.Jesus, the woman was too much.

Uh-huh. Now Ali was beginning to get the picture. Riding backseat on a bike like Phantom was better than Mr. Blue any day. Not to mention the highly erotic act of wrapping one's legs around the man you loved.

When a lost loved one appears before you, it's your brain that fights it, not your heart.

For many minutes before she showed herself, he felt her moving around the place. He detected her presence as unmistakably as he would have sensed the shape of someone blocking the light through a window, even with his eyes closed.

It always is Christmas Eve, in a ghost story.

Or maybe a ghost was only a thing that endures, like the furnishings of this room, like the chairs or table; a little worse for wear, but still here because someone cherished it, or because it was made of such hardy stuff that time couldn't wear it down fast enough.