Quotes About Terese

The doorman took my suitcase and sneaked an admiring glance at Terese before giving me the universal man-to-man smirk that said, Lucky bastard. The

Nice place," I said. "Ain't it just the maddest? It's a little rough diamond to remind me of the better times. So, now who the hell are you?" I introduced myself and asked him if he recalled a fatal car accident from ten years ago. I mentioned Terese Collins. He interrupted me midway through.

I sat up. Terese Collins. Imagery flooded in—her Class-B-felony bikini, that private island, the sun-kissed beach, her gaze that could melt teeth, her Class-B-felony bikini. It's worth mentioning the bikini twice.

Two minutes later, Terese Collins—to use a purely transportational term—disembarked. She was casually decked out in a white blouse and green slacks. Her brown hair was up in a ponytail. People lightly elbowed one another, whispering and subtly gesturing, giving her that surreptitious glance, the one that says "I recognize you but don't want to appear fawning." Terese