"Angels- 01 - A Season Of Angels" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macomber Debbie)

Gabriel watched as Goodness floated down from heaven, thinking humans were right about one thing. God often did work in mysterious ways, and never more so than in this instance. Gabriel was confident of one thing. Neither Goodness nor Monica Fischer would ever be the same again.
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Monica looked out over the gathering crowd and was pleased at the attention their small choir had garnered. Shoppers stopped, their arms folded around packages, and some of the tiredness left their eyes. A few joined in and sang themselves. Children were lifted in their fathersТ arms for a better look. The transformation the singing group produced brought a small, satisfied smile in MonicaТs heart.
Then she noticed a man who stood head and shoulders above the others. He seemed to be trapped by the people around him, and was impatiently edging his way around the gathering.
Being on the top riser gave her an excellent view and she frowned at this intruder. He needed both a shave and a haircut. Even from this distance she noted his eyes, which were a cutting shade of cobalt blue. He seemed to need to get somewhere and was impatiently making his way through the crowd, scooting around one and then another with nary a word of pardon. He wore a beige trench coat and looked as if heТd slept in the bedraggled thing.
MonicaТs gaze followed him as long as she could, but he soon moved out of her peripheral vision. What an unpleasant man, she decided, annoyed at his intrusion into their performance. No doubt he was a modern-day Scrooge who resented every moment wasted on the celebration of the SaviorТs birth.
The small church band struck up the first chords of the next carol, УSilent Night.Ф The highest notes were well within MonicaТs vocal range and her voice was strong enough to ring out loud and clear. When the moment arrived for her short solo performance she allowed her soul to soak up the music and fly free. Then unexpectedly, from out of nowhere, another voice joined and blended with hers.
Quickly Monica looked in both directions to see who had been so bold as to disrupt her one moment of glory. She knew she shouldnТt be so concerned, but it bothered her, and yet as far as she could tell none of the other sopranos was singing.
She raised her voice a full octave, straining her vocal cords. The second voice followed her lead, angelic in its purity and so strong it all but drowned out her own. What perplexed Monica most was that no one else around her seemed to notice anything was amiss. Faces from the audience gazed on approvingly and even the choir director smiled, delighted by her performance.
As she drew to a close, the last of the notes fading into nothingness, the small crowd cheered and she was enthusiastically applauded. Annoyed that her one and only solo had been interrupted by an intruder, Monica twisted around to see if she could find the second voice.
She must have been more energetic in her efforts than she realized because she lost her balance. Her arms flew out in an effort to catch herself, but before she could alert anyone to her plight, she tumbled backward off the top step of the riser.
Crying out, her arms flapping in empty space, she was surprised to land in the unexpected cushion of a manТs waiting arms.
УWell, well, what do we have here?Ф
It was him. The very man sheТd noticed earlier, the one whoТd cut his way through the crowd with such impatience.
УAh .а.а.Ф For the life of her Monica couldnТt make herself speak. All she could do was stare into his handsome features. On closer inspection his eyes were a deeper shade, a metallic blue, amused now, but dispassionate. The thick lines that fanned out from his eyes werenТt from smiling. They spoke of experience, most of it harsh, and disenchantment, most of it warranted, she guessed. Lines bracketed his mouth as well, they deepened as he studied her with the same curiosity with which she regarded him.
УNo need to take such a chance,Ф he chided. УIf you wanted an introduction all you needed to do was ask.Ф
Gasping and breathless, Monica struggled until he slowly, reluctantly lowered her feet to the ground. He waited until sheТd found her balance before he released her completely.
УYou might want to thank me,Ф he suggested lazily.
Flustered, Monica blinked several times, seldom at a loss for words as she was now. УThank you,Ф she managed, the words as stiff as starch, stuck in her dry throat. УIТm not sure what happened, but apparently I lost my balance.Ф
His brazen grin broadened. УWas that you singing just now?Ф
She nodded, and the curiosity got the better of her. УDid you hear two voices or one?Ф
УOne.Ф
УBut there were two. ThatТs what flustered me so. Another voice blended with mine. A strong soprano. Surely you heard the other voice?Ф
УListen, lady, all I heard was you, and IТm not much for religious music, but from where I was standing you sounded real good.Ф
She blushed with pleasure. Her voice was adequate and she did love to sing, but she didnТt possess any great talent. To assume she did would have been vain on her part, and vanity was a greased track straight to the arms of the devil as far as Monica was concerned. УThank you again.Ф
УYou need some help joining the others?Ф
Monica glanced toward the riser and shook her head. The ensemble was almost finished with their program and it would only disrupt the group to have her climb back into position now.
УThen IТll be on my way,Ф he said. УI can hardly wait to tell Lou. It isnТt often a beautiful woman throws herself into my arms.Ф
УI didnТt throw myself into your arms,Ф she informed him primly, straightening the sleeves of her dark suit jacket.
УNot technically perhaps, but there you were, pretty as a picture, gazing up at me, asking for a kiss.Ф
Monica bristled. УI most certainly was not.Ф
УIt felt good to be in my arms too, didnТt it?Ф
УI beg your pardon?Ф Monica stared at him in numb disbelief. Was the man so arrogant he actually assumed sheТd hurl herself into open space on the off chance a man would catch her? He was being ridiculous and she took delight in telling him as much.
He was smiling when she finished, a cocky off-center smile that lifted the edges at one side of his mouth. УIТd say, from the look of you, having a man hold and kiss you is exactly what you need.Ф
This sounded like a threat to Monica, and she pinched her lips together and retreated a step. УYouТre disgusting!Ф
He raised his hands, palms up. УIТm just an innocent bystander. I was minding my own business, looking for nothing better than to drown my sorrows in a cold beer when you catapulted into my arms. The way I look at it, you should be thanking your lucky stars I was here to catch you.Ф
УYou were headed toward the Blue Goose?Ф she asked, realizing now why heТd been so determined to cut through the crowd. He wanted a drink.
УLady, after the day IТve had, youТd need a beer too.Ф
УDonТt,Ф she pleaded, urgently taking a step toward him.
He glared at her, and his beige trench coat fanned out at his sides. The cold cut through Monica, but it didnТt seem to bother him. УDonТt what?Ф he demanded impatiently.
УDrink. There are better ways of dealing with problems other than alcohol.Ф
УLady .а.а.Ф
УMy nameТs Monica. Monica Fischer,Ф she said, holding out her hand to him. He looked at it for a moment as if he were going to ignore it, before reluctantly exchanging handshakes.
УAnd youТre .а.а.Ф
УSorry I ever met you,Ф he muttered.
УPlease, let my friends and me help you,Ф she said, gesturing toward the ensemble standing on the risers, singing the last of the songs.
УListen, all I want is a cold beer and some peace and quiet. IТve been on a stakeout for the past twenty hours and I .а.а.Ф
УYouТre with the police?Ф
He hesitated, and it was evident by the way he glanced longingly toward the Blue Goose that he had other matters on his mind. УIТm a private detective,Ф he admitted. УThere, does that satisfy you?Ф
УYou must be tired,Ф she tried again, thinking fast, hoping to convince him of the error of his ways.