"Sharon Green - Diana Santee 2 - Gateway To Xanadu" - читать интересную книгу автора (Green Sharon)

percentage risk agent,' a nickname for Special Agents. It means that if the computers rate the
possibilities of success on an assignment at 9 percent or more against, that assignment is given only to a
hyper-A. We're the ones who have already proven we can survive against odds like that by doing it, and
the doing takes some doing. Val won't have the necessary time-or the opportunity. For the most part I
plan to use him as a distraction while I do the actual work, either with his talent in full play or just as he
is. A little less masculinity to his face, and he'd be downright pretty, and I can think of a lot of ways to
use something like that. I wonder if he could change himself to directions. "

"You've lost your mind, girl," Dameron interrupted my ranging thoughts, hauling me back to where we
were standing. He was looking straight at me, and his expression couldn't be interpreted as anything but
ridiculing. "I thought you said you knew Valdon," he demanded. "If you think he'll stand still for being a
flower boy in the background while you run around drawing fire from the enemy, you're out of your
mind! What do you think he is?"

"I thought he was the one you were so worried about," I retorted, staring at the base commander. "Have
you suddenly changed your mind, or am I going senile in my old age? I thought you wanted him out of
the line of fire-or haven't you decided yet what you want?"

"I do know what I want," he muttered. "But what I want isn't necessarily what he'll want. Or what either
of us would consider acceptable. Maybe I don't know what I want after all." He pulled his hand through
his hair with a harried gesture, then turned to me. "What exactly do you think of Valdon?"

"What's to think about him?" I asked with a shrug,-privately wondering if Dameron had started to lose
the marble game. "He's big, good-looking, has a talent I intend making use of- Hell, Dameron, I barely
know him. The only things we've really done together so far are argue and fight. I'll be able to do a
better job of giving an opinion if we ever manage to exchange more than a dozen words before the fur
starts flying. "

"But you've still let him bed you," the Commander pointed out, a flatness in the words. "That doesn't
jibe with the lack of opinion you claim to have. Or not have. Do you make a habit of spending bed time
with men you scarcely know?"

"Usually," I answered with a slow nod, now almost convinced the leash was slipping. "How many men
do you think I get to know well in my line of work? And what difference can a little sex make? Just
because a man's good in bed doesn't mean you'd trust your back to him. Sex is nothing more than an
exercise for two-or three, or five, or however your tastes run. Haven't you learned that yet?"

"That particular outlook doesn't necessarily come about through mature experience," he said, a

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gentleness and something that seemed to be pain looking out of his eyes. "Some people are raised to
consider it a good deal more than casual exercise, more than something to be indulged in even between
virtual strangers. If you ever get to the point of gaining true mature experience, you might learn that."

"Do you mean I'll learn that some men consider a roll in the hay the equivalent of a life commitment?" I
asked, letting most of the friendliness drain out of my tone. "I've already learned that, friend, and also
learned to stay away from that sort. The only thing I'm interested in commiting to is what I've already
committed to, and there's no room in that sort of life for distractions. The-`level I operate on' makes