"Roberts, Nora - A Matter of Choice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

"That should help," Jessica muttered as she headed for the library door.

She opened it slowly, enough to stick her head inside. Some things, she
decided, you don't rush into. He was sitting at a long work table,
surrounded by pillars and piles of books. A thick pad was in front of
him, and the pencil in his hand was worked halfway down. His hair fell
over his forehead, but she could see his brows drawn together in
concentration. Or annoyance, she mused. She put on her best smile.

"Hi."

He looked up, eyes pinning her. Jessica could feel the little prickles
of power all over her skin. She absorbed it, intrigued by the sensation.
Without being aware of it, her smile had faded into a look of
puzzlement.

Who is this man? she wondered. It was curiosity as much as courage that
had her coming all the way into the room. The lamp on the desk slanted
across his face, highlighting his mouth and putting his eyes in shadow.
She didn't feel safe with him this time, but unsettled. She continued
toward him.

"You've got a hell of a mess here," Slade said shortly, tossing his
pencil aside. It was better to attack than let himself dwell on how
beautiful she was. "If you run your shop like this"--he gestured
widely--"it's a miracle you're not bankrupt."

The specific complaint eased the tension in her shoulders. There'd been
nothing personal in that look, she assured herself. She'd been foolish
to think there had been. "I know it's terrible," Jessica admitted,
smiling again. "I hope you're not going to do the sensible thing and
walk out." Gingerly, she lowered a hip to the table before lifting a
book at random. "Do you like challenges, Mr. Sladerman?"

She was laughing, he noted. Or her eyes were. But he sensed very clearly
that she laughed at herself. A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth as he
struggled to study her objectively. Maybe she was innocent--maybe not.
He didn't have the same blind faith as the commissioner. But she was
beautiful, and he was attracted. Slade decided the attraction was going
to be difficult to work around.

Letting out a long breath, he gazed around the room. How much choice did
he have? "I'm going to take pity on you, Miss Winslow... I have a
fondness for books."

"So do I," she began, then had to deal with another of his cool, direct
looks. "Really," she claimed with a laugh. "I'm just not neat. Do we
have a deal, Mr. Sladerman?" Solemnly, she offered her hand.