"Bennett, Cherie - Sunset Island 011 - Sunset Paradise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bennett Cherie)

"Well, that's clearly true enough," Lance agreed. "So, would you like to feed Wilson?"
"Feed him?" Sam echoed.
"Guests aren't really allowed to," Lance told her conspiratorially, "but I think we can make an exception."
"Will you get in trouble?" Sam asked him.
"With the dolphins, I am in charge," Lance said simply.
"You aren't doing this because you like me, are you?" Suddenly Sam felt suspicious that every guy in the place had an ulterior motive.
"I'm offering because Wilson likes you," Lance said shyly.
Sam smiled at him. "Well, then, I'd love to."
"It's feeding time now," Lance said. "Follow me."
Sam followed Lance up a long staircase to the top of the dolphin tank, and then out a door to a platform over the tank outside. When she looked down into the water, not only could she see Wilson and the other
dolphins swimming up to the surface, but she could also see a large crowd gathering in the lobby and out on the patio. Evidently, feeding time for the dolphins was a spectator sport at the hotel.
Sam watched as Lance reached into a nearby burlap bag and took out a foot long fish. He held it out over the water. Suddenly, a dolphinЧnot WilsonЧexploded from the water, shot upward, and grabbed the whole fish from Lance's hands, then splashed back down into the pool.
"Ready to try?" Lance said, reaching into the bag and holding out a fish to Sam. Sam nodded agreement. The way things are going, one of these dolphins is going to grab my arm instead of the fish, she thought. But she took the fish and held it out over the pool.
A split second later, Wilson leaped from the pool, heading for Sam's fish. But instead of grabbing the fish, he twisted to face Sam, made a happy-sounding squeak at her, splashed down into the water, then leaped up again and took the fish right from her hand.
"A double-pump!" Lance said, laughing. "You should feel honored. He didn't even do that for Jodie Foster. Here, try another."
And every time Sam held out a fish, it was
always Wilson who took the fish. He did an astonishing assortment of tricks to impress Sam and show off for her, finishing with a somersault where he flipped in midair and plucked the fish from her hand on the way down into the pool. Sam laughed with delight.
"You have a future in this business," Lance told her with a twinkle in his dark brown eyes.
"Thanks," Sam said, "it was really fun." They shook hands, and Sam went back into the lobby and headed for the elevator.
"Samantha Bridges!"
Now, who could be calling out my name? Sam thought, her eyes adjusting to the lobby light again after being out in the bright sunshine.
"Sam, over here!" Sam followed the sound of the voice. Oh my God, she thought. Look who it is. It's Mr. Christopher, the choreographer from Disney World. The guy who fired me!
All the shame and embarrassment Sam felt over getting canned from her first professional dancing job welled up inside of her, piling on top of her shame from the night before.
"Oh, hi, Mr. Christopher," Sam said, try-
ing to pull herself together and not let her emotions show. "How are you?"
"Just ducky," Mr. Christopher said gaily. "Imagine running into you here!"
"I'm on vacation," Sam said, anxious to bring the conversation to an end.
"So, how's your dancing career?" Mr. Christopher asked.
Yeah, like you care, Sam thought. You fired me for being too original! But that's not what she said out loud. Before she could stop herself, she was saying, "My dancing is going really, really well. In fact, I'm checking into the possibility of dancing right here at the hotelЧthere's supposed to be this big Vegas-type revue in the cabaret that I'd be just right for."
"Is that so?" Mr. Christopher asked, an unfathomable look in his eyes.
"Yep, and I heard they need a redhead," she added.
"I don't think so," Mr. Christopher said slowly.
"Pardon?" Sam said.
"I mean, I don't particularly need a redhead right now," he said.
Sam's face burned with embarrassment. "You mean you'reЧ"
"The choreographer for the Vegas revue," Mr. Christopher finished for her. "Exactly."
"Oh," Sam gulped in a small voice.
"I see you improvise stories as well as dance steps," Mr. Christopher said, one eyebrow arched.
"I, uh . . ." Sam stammered, staring at the carpet.
"No hard feelings," Mr. Christopher said gently. "You really are quite a wonderful dancer."
Sam looked up. "I am?"
"Of course you are!" Mr. Christopher assured her. "You'll find your spot one day."
"Thanks," Sam mumbled.
"Now, if you'd like to come see the show tonight, I can put you on the guest list."
"I'm here with two friends," Sam explained.
"Fine," Mr. Christopher replied. "I'll put you down on the guest list as Ms. Bridges, party of three."
"Thanks," Sam said, still extremely embarrassed.
"Well, must run," Mr. Christopher said, looking at his watch. "Ciao!"
Sam waved good-bye and halfheartedly pushed the button for the elevator.
Samantha Bridges, she told herself, not only are you stupid, but you have an incredibly biff mouth.