"Roberts, Nora - Private Scandals" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora) "Quite an event," Marshall murmured in her ear.
Deanna turned, smiled. "We won't stay long. I know this isn't exactly your style." He glanced around at the frantic colors slashed over canvas. "Not exactly." "Wild stuff." Fran edged her way through, her husband Richard's hand firmly gripped in hers. "Your spot this afternoon had some impact." "I don't know about that." "Well, it didn't hurt." Tilting her head up, Fran sniffed the air. "I smell food." "It's gotten so she can smell a hot dog boiling from three blocks away." Richard shifted in to drape an arm around Fran. He had a pretty, boyish face that smiled easily. His pale blond hair was conservatively cut, but the tiny hole in his left earlobe had once sported a variety of earrings. "It's heightened sensory awareness," Fran claimed. "And mine tells me there are pigs-in-a-blanket at three o'clock. Catch you later." She dragged Richard away. "Hungry?" Bumped from behind, Deanna moved comfortably into Marshall's protective arm. "Not really." Using the advantage of height, he scouted the area and led her away from the heart of the crowd. "You're being a good sport about this." "Coming here? It's interesting." She laughed and kissed him again. "A very good sport. I'd just like to make a quick pass through, and congratulate Myra." Deanna looked around. "If I can find her." "Take your time. Why don't I see if I can find us some canap`es." "Thanks." Deanna threaded her way through the crowd. She enjoyed the press of bodies, the undertones of excitement, the snippets of overheard conversations. She'd made it halfway around the room when a bold painting stopped her. explosion of emotion and energy. Fascinated, Deanna moved closer. The label beneath the sleek ebony frame read AWAKENINGS. Perfect, Deanna thought. Absolutely perfect. The colors were alive and seemed to be fighting their way free of the canvas, away from the night. Even as she studied the work, she felt her pleasure turn to desire, and desire to determination. With a little juggling of her budget ... "Like it?" She felt jolted into awareness. But she didn't bother to turn around to face Finn. "Yes, very much. Do you spend much time in galleries?" "Now and then." He stepped up beside her, amused at the way she stared at the painting. Every thought in her head was reflected in her eyes. "Actually, your spot this afternoon convinced me to drop in." "Really?" She looked at him then. He was dressed much as he'd been when he'd crossed the runway. His expensive leather jacket unsnapped, his jeans comfortably worn, boots well broken in. "Yes, really. And I owe you one, Kansas." "Why is that?" "Th." He nodded toward the painting. "I just bought it." "You--" She looked from him to the painting and back again. Her teeth locked together. "I see." "It really caught me." He dropped a hand on her shoulder and faced the painting. If he continued to look at her, Finn knew he'd break out in a grin. It was all there in her eyes--the disappointment, the desire, the irritation. "And the price was right. I think they're going to find out very soon that they're underselling her." It was hers, damn it. She'd already imagined it hanging above her desk at home. She couldn't believe he'd snapped it out from under her. "Why this one?" "Because it was perfect for me." With the lightest of pressure on her shoulder, he turned her to face him. "I knew the |
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