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

He glanced at it first. Soft and elegant, he thought, like her name and
her voice. With a quick curse at fate for making the commissioner her
godfather, Slade took her hand in his. "We have a deal, Miss Winslow."

Jessica slid from the table, keeping his hand in hers when he would have
drawn away. Somehow she'd known it would be hard and strong. "How do you
feel about stuffed pork chops?"

They were tender and delicious. Slade ate three after his stomach
remembered the lack of lunch. And, he thought after a slice of
cheesecake, this case had some advantages over the one he'd just wrapped
up. For two weeks he'd made do on cold coffee and stale sandwiches. And
his partner hadn't been as easy to look at as Jessica Winslow. She'd
guided the conversation expertly during the meal and had ended by
tucking her arm through his to lead him back to the parlor.

"Have a seat," she invited. "I'll pour you a brandy."

As he started to cross the room the desk caught his eye. "That wasn't
here this morning."

"What?" With a decanter in her hand, she glanced over her shoulder. "Oh
no, it just came this afternoon. Do you know anything about antiques?"

"No." He gave the desk a cursory study before taking a chair. "I'll
leave that to you, Miss Winslow."

"Jessica." She poured a second brandy before crossing to him. "Do I call
you James or Jim?"

"Slade," he told her as he took a snifter. "Even my mother stopped
calling me Jim when I was ten."

"You have a mother?"

The quick, unconscious surprise in her voice had him grinning.
"Everybody's entitled to one."

Feeling foolish, Jessica sat across from him. "You just seem to be
capable of arranging the whole business without one."

Both sipped brandy, and their eyes met over the snifters. Jessica felt
the moment freeze, out of time, out of place. Do minds touch? she
thought numbly. Wasn't she sensing at that moment the turbulent spin of
his thoughts? Or were they hers? Brandy slipped, hot and strong down her
throat, snapping her back. Talk, she ordered herself. Say something. "Do
you have any other family?" she managed.

Slade stared at her, wondering if he had imagined that instant of
stunning intimacy. He'd never felt that with any woman before, any