"Laurell K. Hamilton - Anita Blake 15 - The Harlequin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hamilton Laurell K)

His smile had faded around the edges. "What's wrong?"

I smiled and went to hug him. "Just wondering if I'm paying enough attention to you."

He hugged me back, but not like he meant it. He pulled me back so he could see my face. "Why would
you say that?"

I finally let myself look full into his eyes. Tonight I was so distracted by him that I'd avoided his eyes
almost like he was a vampire with a gaze and I was some tourist human. His eyes were lavenderтАФreally,
truly the color of lilacs. But it wasn't just the color; they were large and perfect, and crowned his face
with that final touch that just made your heart hurt. Too beautiful, simply too beautiful.

He touched my face. "Anita, what's wrong?"

I shook my head. "I don't know." And I didn't. I was attracted to Nathaniel but this was excessive. I
looked away so I wouldn't be staring directly into his face. What the hell was wrong with me tonight?

He tried to draw me into a kiss, and I pulled away. A kiss would undo me.

His hands dropped away from me. His voice held the first hint of anger. It took a lot to make Nathaniel
angry. "It's just a movie, Anita. I'm not even asking for sex, just a movie."

I glanced up at him. "I'd rather go home and have sex."
"Which is why I asked for the movie," he said.

I frowned at him. "What?"

"Are you embarrassed about being seen with me in public?"

"No." I let my face show how much it shocked me that he'd even have to ask.

His face was very serious, hurt, ready to be angry. "Then what is it? You won't even kiss me."

I tried to explain. "I forgot everything but you for a minute."

He smiled, his eyes not quite catching up to it. "Is that so bad?"

"In my line of work, yes." I watched him try to understand. He was beautiful, but I could look at him
without being stupid-faced. I moved closer to the smell of the new leather coat. I hugged him, and after a
second's hesitation he hugged me back. I buried my face against the scent of leather and him. Sweet,
clean, and underneath that the smell of vanilla. I knew now that it was only partially him, that some of that
sweet scent was bath products and cologne, but the scent he wore didn't smell so lusciously of vanilla on
anyone else's skin. One of those tricks of skin chemistry that changes the scent of the really good
perfumes.

"We need to get seats." He whispered it against my hair.

I drew away from him, frowning again. I shook my head and that only partially cleared it. I reached into
my coat pocket for a small, padded velvet bag. I opened it and dug the padding out until a cross spilled