Man Sentence Examples
The little man shook his bald head.
He didn't look like a rich man, but then, what did a rich man look like?
It was the same man, she was sure of it.
I asked without answering the man's question.
It was a strange thing for a man to say.
The man stepped out and those piercing blue eyes questioned her silently from under furrowed bows.
He may be a very bad man but we won't know until we have a friend of ours check the license plate.
In France there once lived a famous man who was known as the Marquis de Lafayette. When he was a little boy his mother called him Gilbert.
He watched a man and woman grab Eric when he went to the bathroom and with her hand over the boy's mouth, push him into a car.
I'm not dealing with the FBI, I'm dealing with Daniel Brennan, recent man of leisure.
AdvertisementI'm an old man.
Say you're a world class swimmer and spot a drowning man.
Nothing was learned from the brief visit that contradicted what the man had said to me.
The girl remained unconscious as the man drove away.
I really don't know any more than the man on the street.
AdvertisementAt the first hint of below freezing weather, Howie was on the job, covering everything and reading up on all preventive measures known to man.
Where was he when your man spotted him?
She shook out the sexual energy running through her and turned on a light, not wanting to be alone in the dark while the dead man in her thoughts began to sob once more.
I am a very wealthy man.
He detailed the man's selection of clothes and the contents of his medicine cabinet as he shaved.
AdvertisementBut sorry, they were as in the dark as the man on the street as to source or circumstance.
While Howie hadn't viewed the show, he was incensed at the man's attitude as described by Martha.
He provided details on the hotel, time and room number where the man allegedly stayed.
The stocky man was hooded, wore a mask and was already in the room!
I shook my head in wonder at this man.
AdvertisementThe man was run down by a detective from After.
She was brutally murdered by the same man who killed young girls in Delaware, Alabama and several other states.
Next I was shown a photograph of a chubby cheeked man about forty, with short hair and a six o'clock shadow.
I asked, just as a stocky bearded man dressed in a brown religious smock came out of a side door.
Our man must have spent some time digging.
I can only applaud this man's ability to deduce.
I tried to think how I'd make such a request without getting Merrill Cooms' right hand man in trouble.
Let me put my man on the line.
But, alas, the danger was too great and I am a cautious man.
He was much more cordial now that he was immersed in what amounted to a major man hunt.
There are numerous side roads but this is becoming a massive man hunt.
Here she sat, covered in blood, drugged, one day from being all out crazy, then kidnapped—and the sight of the man before her turned her on.
Here in dwells an old man with whom I would like to converse.
With one leg in my house and one leg out, my man Aldo Benitez shot him.
Don't leave me here alone with that mad man on the loose!
The three left for the school office; Betsy, with a slight smile on her face, Molly looking excited and Julie wondering if she was dead man walking.
Did I trust this man I'd never met, enough to hand over all our identities?
The old man looks at Howie like puss on a pudding and Howie doesn't know why; it's really tense.
A man stopped to talk to us and tried to pat Bumpus.
I was afraid he'd bite the man and I'd get in big trouble.
It scared the man.
I'm good friends with a very troubled man.
How did the man you were discussing before dinner get caught, do you know?
I think the man who did it may have taken my wife and a young girl.
A civilian dressed older man stepped forward.
Maybe the man owns a dog himself and Bumpus smelled the scent on him.
Beside the nurse who was busy collecting equipment, there was a man in a suit standing by the door.
If a man could be more consoling, I've not met him.
I couldn't tell if the look he gave me was incredulity or concern but he grabbed my arm and led me outside where a suited man who must have topped six foot five was walking toward us.
The small group moved more hurriedly now and the man said something to Betsy and shoved her forward toward an emergency exit.
Incidentally, he supposedly came on the radar as a result of a tip from this man or woman everyone's read about; the so-called psychic tipster person.
John Luke Grasso is our man.
There was a large man's tee shirt lying on the floor and I hurriedly put it on.
You're a truly remarkable man.
The phone rang more than a dozen times before a man with groggy voice answered.
An elegantly dressed man in his sixties identified as Assistant Director Carlton Summerfield had taken charge.
The hoard represented thousands of man hours yet all their efforts proved unsuccessful.
She has begun seeing someone; a young man who does grounds keeping work at the Country Club and is a half dozen years her junior.
He's a nice young man and I feel would make a far less labor intensive mate than Howie would have proved to be.
She twisted in her chair to see a man near the dark windows whose eyes were the color of her bright purple Easter dress.
He had no emotions, like a man in a Halloween mask.
The second man's hand clamped on the first man's shoulder.
Something about the man made her feel safe, and the warm electricity in her body made her sleepy.
The man who spoke snatched her arms from behind and shoved her into the kitchen.
Dusty glanced at his long-time Miami Station Chief, the handsome Hispanic man who looked as severe as he was lighthearted.
Talon entered, followed by another man.
The blurry man lifted her other arm and bit into it.
The man was in his prime with silver hair and dark eyes, a handsome face, and a body as muscular as Talon's.
As handsome as he was, her eyes were compelled to the man beside him.
Her eyes snapped closed, her last vision that of the most striking man she'd ever seen.
Her beauty was cool and classic, like that of the man before her.
You're a good man, Darian.
She'd never seen a man as perfectly honed as he was.
She turned to face him, surprised to find the man who'd almost killed her earlier.
This man's look was considering, as if he were trying to memorize her features in case he needed the information in the future.
The young man's face paled even more, until he was as white as his bleached hair.
Bianca asked, surprised the man had feelings.
Talon brought in some man to see me.
Bianca jumped at the voice and peered out of the kitchen at the man named Darian.
She couldn't get over seeing a grown man acting like a teenager.
Without the scars, he was a darkly handsome man, his features heavy and masculine.
You're a handsome man, Darian.
Maybe every man out there was like Aaron, unable to commit to one woman.
If he'd been talking about any other man, she would have doubted his words.
Sensing similar distress in the man before her, she sat down.
He withdrew, not looking at the shocked man standing in the kitchen doorway.
He didn't need this type of drama, and she was too good for a man like him in her life.
The man's face was red with shame this time.
She wasn't sure what she expected when she faced him, but it wasn't the gangly young man with large, uncertain brown eyes.
The young man rose and stormed to the library door.
The door was wrenched open, and a man pointed the gun at her.
An older, harmless-looking man with white hair and beautiful emerald eyes stood near the door, holding out a phone.
I believe … I hope … that man is still inside of him somewhere.
Jonny wouldn't listen to his nagging sister, but he'd darned well listen to a man as terrifying as Dusty could be.
He had no control of his own powers, and he'd not yet been tested in a confrontation with the man who enslaved him.
No woman would ever be more than second to a man like that, but being the woman who was second in his world sounded better than anything else she'd ever wanted.
It was a man too familiar to be a stranger, with beautiful purple eyes, a small frame, and a face without emotion.
He turned to see the young man's face flushed this time with anger, his eyes glittering.
Dusty spun again and continued walking, aware of the anxious young man at his heels.
With a frown, she wondered why she'd never seen it before, why she wasted seven years trying to make things work with someone who couldn't hold a candle to the man she was meant to be with.
The young man drew away from the table.
Bianca cried, seeing the man as well.
She'd hoped not to lose the man she loved as well.
Jule drew a deep breath and faced the small, grandfatherly man with eyes the color of an Irish meadow.
After a childhood filled with foster homes, she feared getting too comfortable, even in the home of the man who adopted her twelve years ago, when she was ten.
He'd claimed someone would try to kill her, and the man they sought was here.
This had to be the man her father warned her about!
He turned, not surprised to see the small, grandfatherly man standing deeper in the alley.
She started to the table then stopped, unable to dismiss the feeling of the man's arms around her or what she'd felt when they touched.
The conversation between her father and the man who should've killed her rattled around in her thoughts as she returned to the door.
Her father said the man came to kill her, yet she was still alive.
Her father had disappeared into thin air with the body of the man he called Jule.
At last, she forced herself to lie down and tried not to think of the man named Jule, whose soul still lingered.
She still felt the man named Jule, and he was here.
That man will never bother you again, he said.
She willed herself not to think of the man named Jule trapped somewhere in the house.
She placed the medallion around her neck and admired it in the mirror, vowing not to think of the man whose presence plagued her.
Yully cracked the door open, suspecting the man named Jule was there even before she flipped on the lights.
She stared at him, not sure what to say or think about finding a man chained to her basement wall.
She wasn't sure she'd seen a man as big as he was anywhere but on the TV.
What could this man possibly know that her father needed?
The man before her looked pretty human himself, with beautiful brown eyes and a body unlike any she'd seen before.
She'd sensed more danger from her father than from the man before her.
If the man didn't freeze down there, he'd die at the hands of her father and his strange delusion that this man wanted her dead.
But this man, an enemy who had—up until now—wanted to kill her, left her feeling a little less alone.
As she crept up the stairs of the wine cellar to the kitchen, she couldn't help feeling troubled at leaving the man in the basement.
You didn't find a man chained to the wall?
That man wanted to kill you.
The man gazing back at him was wiry and lean with angled features and swirling gold eyes.
Jule sensed a great deal of turmoil behind his calm features and pitied the man.
The Darian he remembered had never been brooding or hesitant like this man.
He wasn't to that point yet, and he had to figure out just how to protect the woman from the man she considered her own father.
Damian wondered what the hell Sofi had figured out that would send the man before him into the teenage-like fit.
Yully kept her gaze on the man Jule battled until his back was to her.
Backing the car up, she watched the man with the sword drop to his knees and slowly stand.
Her father hated this man for some reason, and being near him put them both in danger.
If she had a choice of what to believe, she'd believe Jule, a man she barely knew.
She started to drive home then thought of the man she and Jule both tried to kill.
Papa, there was a man in our house who tried to kill me.
I lost it when I was running from the man with the sword.
The man named Damian still watched her.
She patted the pocket in her skirt containing the paper on which Jule had scribbled down the phone number of the towering man before her.
Damian disappeared, followed by the man named Jonny and the woman with him.
You probably never thought your father could kill a man before today.
The armory was not the collection of a wealthy connoisseur; this was the personal armory of a man accustomed to killing often.
The man in the corner was tall with eyes that swirled gold like Damian's had.
Whatever had happened, the man before her was hurting still, like she did when her father hit her.
Xander didn't move like she expected a man his size to move.
Her presence would have the same calming effect on Dusty, who was the most wound-up man Jule knew.
Darian had been a shell of a man when Sofi found him several months ago.
Now there was life and light in his eyes, even if he wasn't quite the man Jule remembered.
Jule, whose soul had somehow lingered in her body when she'd touched him, and who had become the only man she'd ever felt safe around.
The man before her was unwavering, and she had the impression of everything she was not and everything she needed to be whole.
But there was another reason she dared not leave her father, one she feared voicing even to the man before her.
She felt the sense of being centered for the first time in her life and knew it was because of the man before her.
She turned and gasped, staring at the large man before her.
The man looked like an ancient Greek prince with blond hair and chiseled features.
He faced the small man with glowing green eyes.
She looked down, both thrilled by the idea of an eternity with the man who made her feel whole and horrified at what her father told her.
She stared at the towering man with red eyes, not sensing him at all.
This time, he wasn't a fever-riddled man incapable of defending her.
She recognized Damian and Darian as they neared and crept closer to Jule at the sight of the strange man with red glowing eyes.
I'm okay with you running him over, the man with the cool blue eyes said.
Dusty eyed the wiry man coolly, and Damian chuckled.
And this … thing—" Damian indicated the man with red eyes "—is Charles.
She turned to face the small man and gasped.
She took a step back, uncertain what the man was but aware her instincts were at a scream.
The low growl drew her attention behind her, where the red-eyed man materialized beside Damian.
A man's face, a woman in the hospital on her death bed, their children surrounding them.
He really wasn't a man of detail, which was why she was so surprised to see him working as a financial planner.
As the man took her arm to help her stand, his haggard face appeared in yet another vision.
An older man with dementia left to rot and finally die in an old folks' home.
He saw the man who had called him pacing as Laney had indicated.
The middle-aged man with bright green eyes standing in his study looked harmless.
Jake cleaved in two by a maniacal man with a sword.
One of the monsters pulled off its head to reveal a man.
He was built from the same mold—large and muscular, the kind of man more fitted to military special forces or UFC prizefighting than financial planning.
The man approaching her had nearly reached her, and she huddled into a tighter ball.
If the men around her were predators, the man who entered next was their alpha.
He was not a pretty boy but a man with rugged, bad-boy beauty and a slow sensuality about his movement that made her heart skip a beat despite her pain.
His command was quiet and firm, but Sofia knew no man in the room would disobey a man like him.
Sofia was afraid to ask where she was, who the man was before her.
Instead, she watched a man many, many times her strength gently clean the blood from her arm in unhurried, methodical strokes.
He was the sexiest man she'd ever seen, and the swirling aura of command only amplified his physical appeal.
The monster in the corner of her mind was a man, shrouded in darkness.
She collapsed onto her bed and sobbed, the man in the corner sobbing with her.
His scent drove her body wild, the mix of sweat, darkness, and man.
She'd had never felt overwhelmed by a man before, and she'd certainly never been a woman who felt weak-kneed!
She'd never seen a man so strong, and she couldn't imagine talking to him without remembering how beautiful that body was.
It made no sense, but neither did the sudden craving for peanut butter that dragged her to the kitchen, where yet another man she wanted to avoid was lounging.
He dialed and spoke in a different language to the man on the other end.
She turned, startled to find the man in front her of the same make and mold as Damian's men.
One was of medium height and slender, an older man with sharp green eyes the color of forest moss who seemed out of place in the middle of the room.
The man in the executioner's hood left while Jilian, the man with midnight hair and eyes, approached.
She blinked, shocked when he walked through the man with the green eyes as if he weren't there.
The man in the corner of her mind stopped clawing at the edges of her thoughts and chose that moment to speak to her.
Han was as big as the man before her, and if he feared him … Damian's gaze swept over her.
The man in her head just wouldn't leave her alone.
Han stayed with her, not moving until two Guardians—a raven-haired man with a quick smile and a brooding blond—approached.
He turned to see the small man with bright green eyes that glowed in the moonlight.
He studied the small man infatuated with his phone.
Maybe he had a harem of women at his beck and call, but she couldn't see herself with any other man.
While his form was large enough to be a man the size of Damian's Guardians, his voice was terrified and gravelly, as if he hadn't ever spoken to anyone.
He began to cry, the soul-deep weeping of a man who'd lost all and spent his tormented life in a level of hell she'd never be able to imagine.
He reached for her, but his scarred hand passed through hers, as if all that remained of him was a ghost of the man he'd been.
Then again, he was a man, and he didn't pretend to understand a woman's mind.
Her thoughts returned to the dead man alone in the dark room.
She held her head in her hands, tormented by his pain without understanding how she was supposed to help a dead man.
Unable to be alone with the man in her head, she went to her library.
But you have one man you can sleep around with.
I know, Darian! she replied, hoping the man in her head didn't distract her.
Three men stood in the main foyer, two in the same shade of brown as her bodyguard and a striking man in designer jeans and an expensive sweater.
Dustin didn't look like the kind of man who would like anything, let alone presents.
But did any man deserve death?
The dead man was getting annoying.
He didn't remember when this man had arrived or why he was supposed to remember him.
He followed the man with eyes as green as the moss in the corner of his room down the busy hallways, unaffected by the men who spit on him or shoved him as he went.
The man with mossy eyes turned down a corner and vanished from his sight and thoughts.
The man with green eyes was waiting for him in the hall and touched his arm.
He saw the woman come into focus, and the man with mossy eyes released him.
Sofia jerked from her place beside her window, not sure which voice came from her head and which from the handsome man before her.
She lowered her gaze at the heated look from the man who drove her crazy every other minute of her day.
The first man was in his prime, and his eyes crinkled in a genuine smile when he clasped hands with Dustin.
The second traitor came soon after, a man whose past stunned her.
Dustin escorted the man into the mansion, and Pierre wrapped an arm around her as she sagged.
It was dark, cold, and the shots hit the man with lopsided shoulders, dropping him dead to the ground.
A woman was screaming, another man shouting.
She wondered if the dead man in her head, Darian, felt this way when he cried.
He was accompanied by Dustin and two other men, one she knew as Sasha, a man who'd struck her with his devotedness to his family, and Levi, a man who'd been present in many of his pre-Schism memories.
The words were too painful, and by the predatory stillness of the man across from her, she was terrified of what he'd do if she said it again.
Claire was all that remained of his brother, and he'd loved her out of respect for a man whose death he'd never been able to accept.
The words were familiar, the same words he'd spoken to Dusty thousands of years ago, when he'd discovered the youth who was not yet a man on a slave trader's block, bloodied and weeping for the family he'd just lost.
He sensed the visions in her head, not surprised to see his own black memories playing on the screens on the back of her eyelids along with a dark nightmare of a man in a corner crying.
He wondered if the man was his soul, weeping for his brother.
She wanted him, the man behind the titles and the power.
It wrenched open, and a man in a black trench coat Damian's size looked her over once.
The door opened, and a different, blond man looked them over before stepping back.
They reached a second foyer where the man in the trench stood next to a caramel-colored man covered in blood.
Ving—the man in the trench coat—looked at Sofia.
His gaze was stormy, but there was more there, a profound sadness that made the large man more human.
Linda flashed her a strained smile that made her feel welcome for the first time in a week before the pretty brunette gave the blond man, Lon, a hug and kiss.
Sit your ass down, Linda said, planting her small form between them and physically pushing the man who towered over her.
And she'd never demean herself to that man.
Well, man up and do it in person.
Just when I start to like you … you know, it's amazing even a man who's thousands of years old can act like a twelve-year-old.
There was a pause before the man on the other end answered.
If you're half the man everyone tells me you are, you'll send Han some flowers.
You threw me out with nowhere to go after the man who was meant to be my husband was killed.
The man with eyes the color of the moss in his room materialized from the shadows.
He opened the box to reveal a man's platinum signet ring with the half-moon, half-sun, and arrow symbol neatly carved on its head.
He was the kind of man she wouldn't think twice about running from, though the intelligence gleaming in his soulful brown eyes gave him away as something more.
She stopped a safe distance from him, unable to reconcile the man on the phone with the man before her.
She saw the thaw from the cactus daring anyone to touch him to the man she'd spoken to on the phone.
Jule wasn't the type of man who worried about anything, and fear slid through her.
A brief search of the house yielded neither man.
Traci was alone with the man she recognized as Ving, who stood near the doorway.
There was only one thing that could make such a cold man so upset.
The truth settled into the pit of her stomach, along with the realization that she meant what she'd said—she would do whatever it took to free the man she loved.
The large man in black with lopsided shoulders and an executioner's hood pressed himself into a corner.
The man with verdant eyes stood beside him, watching her.
She strained against the man again.
The man in the executioner uniform dumped her onto a familiar surgical table in a room that stank of blood.
She knew this man.
She lay still, the man in the corner so silent she had to look several times to make sure he was still there.
Panic and tears soon drained her of energy, and she stared listlessly at the bloodied ceiling until the man in the corner stirred.
She would never give this man the visions he wanted!
He was a puzzle, a man with no memory beyond waking up in the morning.
She saw Damian watch the new king get his tattoo as a rite of passage, saw it again as Claire made love to the man meant to be her husband, saw it in Isac's vision as he hacked the tattooed man apart.
The man hiding in the corner of her mind, he whose death plagued Damian for thousands of years.
Something about Damian, the man who made kiri cry.
Damian was the strongest man Two had ever met.
His gaze fell to the silvery ring the man before him wore.
He made his way through the crowded halls, grunting under the weight of the man.
Sofia darted off the table, staring at him as he entered, trailed by Two and the man with green eyes.
The man with green eyes leaned over to Two, whispering to him.
The man with the green eyes was suddenly behind him, watching her.
The man beside her hesitated and then obeyed.
She felt his fear and squeezed her eyes closed, the man in her arms colliding with the man hiding in the corner of her mind.
He knelt beside them, staring at the horribly scarred man.
Damian's brother was somewhere inside the scarred shell of a man before him.
He stared into Darian's gold eyes, seeking some sign of the man he'd known.
The death visions, the distrust everyone on the planet had for a soul-reader, the inability to eat … they were nothing compared to helping a man find his soul again.
How sick was the man who kept his former enemy as a slave?
Man up and tell me in person.
The man before her was from before time, before life, before everything.
Her gaze was riveted to the man before her.
The Dark One felt like a man.
She wasn't able to reconcile the creature that turned her Immortal with the man before her.
He wasn't a man.
He was older, in his mid-thirties, and the light took longer to appear in his eyes than it had the younger man.
The man in whose arms she lay was not only her husband by Immortal and demon laws but the Dark One who turned her into a demon.
I wanted to see what you would do when confronted with the man you thought you were going to return to, he replied.
This was the kind of man whose depravity Darkyn preyed on.
I guess if you give a man the ability to build his own mate, he'll make her a tramp.
She'd given relationship advice to the woman who condemned her to Hell, advice meant to help snag the heart of a man she hadn't stopped loving.
She told him the news and all the sunshine left the old man's smile.
Sprinkled in the assortment of oldies were a few exceptions—two couples both named Dawkins, and Pumpkin Green, a young man taking a break from his cross country hike to California in support of the homeless, or so he claimed.
Has this man hurt you?
Are you sure it was a dead man you saw?
It was a real skeleton—of a man.
How could you tell it was a man?
Nobody knows where the man is and even if he's been in there a long, long time, someone must care about him, or at least maybe did back then, when it happened.
Dean paid no mind that the old man wasn't in the know about the latest Hollywood styles and so informed him.
Dean didn't even offer a quip about Fred's tightness with a buck and his moth-eaten purse as the old man called over a waitress to do the duties.
My old man beat me like a tom-tom at an Indian dance and he didn't need that much of an excuse.
Sometimes I think you're not a nice man.
The sheriff won't be a happy man.
A man, not the usual wimpy social lady, was the culprit who organized the hasty departure.
He's a personable young man and a whale of a basketball player.
The young man sulked in, humbled in hoops by high school star Billy Langstrom.
It was a man, in a shirt.
He stopped Fred when the old man began to excuse himself.
The old man smiled as he poured another drink.
Fred just snorted, but Dean noted the old man didn't deny the question.
We used to go there to bail out the old man.
Mostly meant the old man was in jail again, or they was looking to find him and put him there.
He wished the old man would spit it out, whatever was bugging him.
He wanted to warn the young man to wear a bulletproof vest and keep his hands in his lap for protection.
Isn't any young man capable of restraint—responsibility?
Whatever the old man said, it elevated Cynthia's mood a few notches on the normalcy meter.
She stood with a tall, good-looking man with a rounded haircut that might have been stylish somewhere but to Dean looked silly.
But they were polite, to a man.
The mine sits on a few hundred acres old man Dawkins owned.
Dean had trouble remembering who was who but all were of like mind in their affection for the old man who turned up the charm meter a notch or two.
If it was so valuable, why didn't old man Dawkins develop it?
I wonder if it was that sweet man Joseph Dawkins?
The old man smiled as he stomped on the brake.
Dean was sure the old man and his dilapidated old Scout had done this a thousand times before.
If I had, I'd be a rich man, wouldn't I?
Another woman, a very tall blond, stood a few paces back, a smile on her face, watching the old man.
I started checking my old man's papers and I found these reports— way back when he first bought the property.
But I sure took a close look at my old man's will.
There must be some record of the man.
The clock was ticking on the young man's stay.
A bookish man with glasses, wearing a white lab coat, opened the door to the small house.
The man took one peek at the bone and identified it as a left-hand pinkie.
The man just nodded but didn't comment further.
It was the man he'd seen talking to Ginger Dawkins at the Farmer's Market on Sunday.
The man, dressed in slacks and sport shirt, was entering the newly renovated Beaumont Hotel.
The man rose and came over to Dean's table.
Dean wondered if the young man knew the girl's condition.
Amid boxes, lamps, and glassware of every description sat the old man, atop a trunk, snuggled between the two maiden ladies from Indiana.
With Fred's approval, he dashed up to the old man's room to fire up his computer and do so.
Dean couldn't think of any reason not to confirm its authenticity to the old man and did so.
His old man was a miner and lived in Ouray when Fitzgerald was a kid—a snot-nosed bully, I suspect.
He's just like our old man.
If there were remains of a man in that mine, I would think you'd want to know who he was.
As he began to ramble on about Mrs. Langstrom's cooking, Mrs. Lincoln jumped down and stood on hind legs, stretching up the young man's pant leg.
That young man has been in the water fight for years.
I told her what we found and that we believed her and we're closer to finding the man's identity.
He was trying to put a move on me, the silly man.
He was just a nice person who happened to be a man.
The bones—there's a chance they belonged to a man who may have gotten a high school girl pregnant.
You sound like my wife, but 'Any man's death diminishes me because I'm involved in mankind.'
He wanted to make sure he had time to hook up with Billy Langstrom and question the young man, whom he knew would be there.
A man Dean didn't recognize turned around and shook his hand before starting the old car.
It was a young man's—or woman's—game, although Dean doubted he'd have joined the contest, at least not willingly, even in his careless years.
The old man was careful of privacy and territory and would take nothing without first asking.
Have you found out who the dead man is?
The old man excused himself and followed Dean to the kitchen.
He would have hauled Fred along for company, but the old man had a date, so Dean was on his own.
Dean recognized the man but didn't know his name.
It was the man's turn to nod.
The old man said nothing but shook his hand.
We'd better tell the old man he needs to get hopping.
Dean climbed the stairs to the old man's room.
Dean could picture him and the old man breaking into the storage building in the dead of night.
Dean had no intention of specifically mentioning Billy Langstrom, though the young man's death was on everyone's mind.
Unfortunately, in spite of her life saving efforts, the young man had already perished.
While Dean had been at odds with the man since their first confrontation last January, it was Fitzgerald's venomous comments at the debate that led Dean to now believe him capable of almost anything.
Roger was a tiny man, no taller than Cynthia, with snowy white hair and sparkling blue eyes.
A man named Dawkins bought the mine from the Rowland estate.
I understand from Dawkins' son his old man was paying Josh pretty well to be his mine manager—up until August of 1961 when Josh disappeared.
He too congratulated the old man.
He'd always known Pumpkin was a flake, but he honestly liked the young man and flakiness wasn't the worst trait carried by the young and the restless.
A little man did all the talking and introductions.
Fat man in black stifled a laugh while the acting sheriff glowered.
The fat man spoke for the first time.
So did fat man.
When the old man tried to engage him in further conversation—this time about Pumpkin Green and the general irresponsibility of today's youth—he excused himself on an important errand and left Westlake standing in the hall.
She was in jeans and a man's dress shirt, her most unrevealing outfit to date.
The man had a vindictive streak as wide as the valley, no doubt there.
The old man looked defeated, with all his natural feistiness absent, left outside in the sunshine.
What remained in the darkened room was a beaten old man.
Dean left the cell confident that the old man was coping, but he was beginning to mirror Fred's concern with his past.
The mixed news produced a sense of relief that Martha was, according to Fred, temporarily safe, but she seethed at what she saw as Fitzgerald's vindictiveness at attacking them through the old man.
If you're begging for the old man, don't bother.
He's a very vindictive man.
There were definitely two people in the car but he said one was a man.
The black man, the passenger spotted in the stolen Buick, had been apprehended when he returned to the vehicle to retrieve his overnight satchel.
Dean didn't press the old man for whatever he knew nor did Fred offer any information.
The old man looked concerned.
They called him metal man.
Dean planned to cruise the town later in hopes of locating the young man.
The old man was still dressed in a dark suit after attending the funeral.
Pumpkin and some of Billy's friends thought there might be more to the young man's death than reported.
He doesn't seem to be the man we suspected.
The old man sat crumpled in the grotto where Martha's bones had rested.
It brought a further smile to the old man's face.
The old man sighed, looking every bit his age.
But then you were so convinced the bones belonged to that man Josh that I decided to let matters play out.
God, he was an evil man!
Both Deans heard it but the old man appeared not to have noticed.
Both men felt the old man had probably killed him, but Westlake's brief disclosure was insufficient to pursue the matter and as both men were dead, there was little incentive to do so.
Brandon Westlake was portrayed as a delusional old man bent on killing any and all witnesses to his half-century-old deed.
Dean explained that the miniature remains belonged to a very bad man.
And he loved Billy, perhaps enough to kill the man he thought caused Billy's death.
A small pulse of power, and the man dropped.
I am a man of discretion.
With his chiseled features and muscular frame, he was without a doubt the sexiest man she'd ever seen.
Tonight, she'd take comfort in the arms of the only man she ever loved.
They were the kind of fangs a man fantasized about, not too large to cause damage but sharp enough to offer an exquisite combination of pleasure and pain if she nipped him.
But she couldn't help feeling as if she'd never truly known the man she loved until someone else told her what she missed.
Heart pounding, she stared at the woman and man before her.
The man beside her was Vory.
He planted a hand on the chest of each man and pushed them a part.
He was, by far, the most handsome man she had ever seen.
Who could deny looking at those smooth bronzed features and delicious chocolate eyes that he was an unusually handsome man?
Carmen was waiting for Alex outside the clinic with Destiny one day when the red-headed man strolled up to the car.
Alex eyed the man suspiciously as he said goodbye and walked away.
So if you had come home and that man was there, you'd respect my privacy, right?
I didn't say you were – and I didn't say what I was doing with that man, either.
Could Lori have sent the man?
Again the red headed man crossed her mind.
Do you have any idea how good it makes a man feel to have a beautiful woman look at him that way?
The red headed man stood in front of her, lust in his eyes and smile.
Before she recovered from the shock, the man knocked the phone from her hand and grabbed her arm, jerking her toward him.
She dodged and rolled as the man reached for her again.
The man grabbed her ankle and she kicked him with her other foot.
The man waved a knife at her, an evil smile on his lips.
The man lumbered toward the door.
Whether he was trying to escape or attack Alex was unclear, but Alex reached the door at the same time the man did.
The man's arm came back and then forward in a jab.
The man jerked the knife out and darted around Alex and out the door.
Do you know who the man was?
Why was the man at the house?
If she hadn't screamed, maybe the man would have taken what he wanted and left.
No one wanted to go back to the house until the man was apprehended.
They still hadn't caught the red-headed man, but they had a regular patrol, so Carmen took Jonathan and Destiny home with her.
The man who caused all this worry was still free.
A man was waiting for me at the old house - a man with red hair.
And the man stabbed Alex with a knife.
It didn't matter who called them as long as the man was put where he could do no more harm.
The man was there because Lori had sent him.
How much more did the man know about her routine?
She never mentioned Lori or the man who had stabbed him – or anything else unpleasant.
One morning a distinguished looking Spanish man was walking out of the room as she entered.
He wasn't a tall man, but he walked with the confidence of one.
At first she thought he might have been a visitor of the other man in the room, but the family said he had asked for Alex, and had stayed with him for a little while.
That was when she saw the man.
Behind them the red-headed man followed for only a few seconds before turning back toward the house.
Maybe the man was driving Lori's car.
The man was at the house when I left, but his truck wasn't there.
They caught the man running through the buffalo pasture, with Brutus barking and nipping at his heels.
Apparently the man had never entered the house and no damage was done.
Alex might be alive in body, but he was no longer the man she had married.
On Thursday of the third week, she arrived at the hospital and walked into the room he shared with another man.
That man came in again this morning.
The only reason she could think of was that the man didn't want anyone to suspect him.
And yet, the man who stabbed him was behind bars, and the person who hired him had confessed.
Is there some way to restrict the man from seeing Alex unless I'm here?
The next time the man came to visit, they were supposed to tell him he couldn't see Alex unless Carmen was there.
His father looked like a tall man.
Maybe the man in the picture wasn't his father.
The man at the hospital was built like Alex.
But how would the man know Alex was in the hospital?
She was looking forward to meeting this man.
The next morning she came in earlier, hoping to catch the man before he left.
Maybe this man had a seedy past – or present, life.
Alex glanced from her to the man, his face revealing absolutely no expression.
He seems like a nice man.
Of course, since Lori had hired the man who stabbed him, it might not be a good idea.
The man had found him in the hospital.
In the time that he had been home, he never asked about the man who stabbed him, nor the situation with Lori.
By day he was the man she married – less a voice.
If a woman says no and a man does it anyway, isn't that rape?
Leave it to a man to avoid expressing how he felt, but it had to make him feel less of a man.
Alex, staring at his bloody hands after the man ran out the door.
Did the man stab the wrong person?
It was when man interfered that things got out of balance.
Why was it that anything dead was dead meat to a man?
He could forgive her for what the man did – that was his doing, but not for what Lori intended to do to Carmen.
Their history was too personal for her to feel uncomfortable standing near-naked to a man who'd had a crush on her for a while.
Harmony bent and lifted the dead man in a fireman's carry.
A man of few words, Gabriel hadn't gotten used to the political side of his job yet.
He'd never been so thrilled to see a dead man as he was that moment.
It was not just any dead man, but the right one.
Green smoke swirled from the man's ears and mouth, forming a fog around Gabe's hand before crystallizing into a small emerald.
His gaze went back to the dead man Rhyn wanted him to find.
The man standing in the weedy area of the lot was tall and thick, dressed in a trench coat, black clothing and heavy boots.
Her eyes went to the chiseled features of the man sitting near her.
You're not a water sprite, and you're not afraid to be alone on a beach with a man you think murders people.
She'd never been turned on by a look, though if anyone could do it, the intense man beside her could.
Something about him made her feel comfortable, or she wouldn't be sitting alone with a man dressed like the angel of death on the beach after dark, revealing secrets she didn't tell her boyfriend of two years.
The man stretched out his legs in front of him.