Denise Coates Quotes

Kay got off the bus at the Squinty Bridge and walked across the river to Broomielaw. A brisk wind streamed across the river from the broad plane of Govan, rising up the boom of the flats. Even in the deep doorway, it lifted the tail of her coat and blew her hair up over her ears. Cars passed quickly, anticipating the motorway five hundred yards away. Kay told herself that this was a mistake but she pressed the buzzer anyway.

You underestimate me, Layla. I’ll make it happen.” She gave him a wary look. “How?” “I’m not giving away my secrets.” His eyes lit mischievously. “But I’m willing to bet on it: suitable sleigh, right here, by midnight tonight.” Now she was suspicious. “You know someone who has one.” “No, I don’t. Scout’s honor. Now are you taking the bet or not?” She turned her face from him, her eyes narrowing on him. “What kind of bet?” “Name your price.” She stared at the house, thinking. “If you don’t find one, you have to . . .” Her gaze climbed to the roof. “Do the roofline.” She smiled big. He looked up, squinting against the light, then back to her. “Fine. I’m not losing anyway.” He pulled his keys from his coat pocket. “Time’s a wasting.” With one last smile over his shoulder he headed for his truck. “Wait, what about you?” He turned in the snow, giving her a strange look. Then he slowly started toward her. It took all her willpower to keep her boots planted as he came within inches of her. “If I win . . . ,” he said, those blue eyes warming her clear down to her toes, “I get to kiss you.” His lips twitched as his eyes slid down to her mouth and back up where they held her hostage. Layla swallowed hard. With a final look, he traced his steps to his truck, only turning once he reached the door. “And, Layla . . . ,” he said with a smug grin, “I will win.

Fog plumed in front of his face with each breath, and his blue eyes sparkled under the lighting. A fat flake landed on his eyelashes. Layla unconsciously reached out and wiped it away with her gloved thumb. The look in his eyes shifted. She couldn’t break away from his gaze. His hand tightened around hers. Suddenly she felt warm. Too many layers. She needed to ditch the scarf. Maybe the coat. What was wrong with her?

Mr. Campbell," a voice called. "Mr. Trevor Campbell." Trevor turned to find a tall, severe looking woman wrapped in a dark coat over her dark dress, all edged in smoky gray fur, approaching in heels that would have been deadly on level dry ground, but even more so on the uneven boards with drifts of snow that made up their portion of the train platform. And yet she seemed not to notice. Though the wind blew a bit where they stood in the open, not one dark hair strayed from her sleek French twist. Dusky skin showed off a polished glow over sharp cheek bones and a thin, straight nose. Her dark eyebrows winged up in haughty arches over her sooty eyes that seemed to burn with a fire that had Trevor feeling slightly mesmerized and uneasy at the same time. "Ahh, I caught you just in time," she said in an oddly accented voice. "And you too, Mr. Jackson Campbell." The boys looked at one another and then back at this strange apparition as she presented them each with her business card. "I represent your grandfather's law firm," she announced before turning to wave over a couple of rough-looking men carrying large boxes. "As you did not make it to your grandfather's will reading, I have been charged with providing you with a copy of the will as it pertains to you and your inheritance." The train blew its whistle to give a five minute warning. Trevor could see the conductor hurrying boys on board as the train's engine began to build up steam for its departure. The woman handed Trevor and Jackson each an envelope which was sealed with their grandfather's crest in wax. "These are your copies of the will and instructions from your grandfather.

I pulled in at a place that specialized in chicken parts and brownies. We decided to eat in the car. The car was sufficient for our needs. We wanted to eat, not look around at other people. We wanted to fill our stomachs and get it over with. We didn’t need light and space. We certainly didn’t need to face each other across a table as we ate, building a subtle and complex cross-network of signals and codes. We were content to eat facing in the same direction, looking only inches past our hands. There was a kind of rigor in this. Denise brought the food out to the car and distributed paper napkins. We settled in to eat. We ate fully dressed, in hats and heavy coats, without speaking, ripping into chicken parts with our hands and teeth. There was a mood of intense concentration, minds converging on a single compelling idea.