"Roberts, Nora - Stanislaski 08 - Dance of Dreams" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts Nora)

completely forgotten him.
"Naturally." Nick continued to lazily scratch Nijinsky's ears. Purring
ferociously, the cat stared with glinted amber eyes at the other man. "I saw a
dress of your design on a mutual friend, Suzanne Boyer." Nick smiled with a
flash of white teeth. "They were both exquisite."
Donald lifted a brow. "Thank you."
"But you don't offer me a drink, Ruth?" Nick commented, still smiling affably at
Donald.
"Sorry," she murmured, automatically turning toward the small bar she had
arranged on a drop leaf table in a corner. She reached for the vodka and poured.
"Donald?"
"Scotch," he said briefly, trying to maintain some distance from Nick's cheerful
friendliness.
Ruth handed Donald his Scotch and walked to Nick.
"Thanks." Accepting the glass, Nick sat in an overstuffed armchair and allowed
the cat to walk tight circles on his lap. Nijinsky settled back to sleep while
Nick drank. "Your business goes well?" he asked Donald.
"Yes, well enough," Donald responded to Nick's inquiry. He remained standing and
sipped his Scotch.
"You use many plaids in your fall designs." Nick drank the undiluted vodka with
a true Russian disregard for its potency.
"That's right." A hint of curiosity intruded into Donald's carefully neutral
voice. "I didn't imagine you'd follow women's fashions."
"I follow women," Nick countered and drank again deeply. "I enjoy them."
It was a flat statement meant to be taken at face value. There were no sexual
overtones. Nick enjoyed many women, Ruth knew, on many levelsЧfrom warm, pure
friendships, as his relationship with Lindsay, to hot, smoldering affairs like
that with their mutual friend Suzanne Boyer. His romances were the constant
speculation of the tabloids.
"I think," Nick continued, disrupting Ruth's thoughts, "that you, too, enjoy
womenЧand what makes them beautiful, interesting. It shows in your designs."
"I'm flattered." Donald relaxed enough to take a seat on the sofa.
"I never flatter," Nick returned with a quick, crooked smile. "A waste of words.
Ruth will tell you I'm a very frugal man."
"Frugal?" Ruth lifted a brow, pursing her lips as if tasting the word. "No, I
think the word is egocentric."
"The child had great respect once upon a time," Nick said into his empty glass.
"When I was a child, yes," she retorted. "I know you better now."
Something flashed in his eyes as he looked at her; anger, challenge,
amusementЧperhaps all three. She wasn't certain. She kept her eyes level.
"Do you?" he murmured, then set the glass aside. "You would think she'd have
more awe for men of our age," he said mildly to Donald.
"Donald doesn't demand awe," she returned, hardly realizing how quickly she was
becoming heated. "And he doesn't care for me to think of him as aged and wise."
"Fortunate," Nick decided as neither of them so much as glanced at the man they
were discussing. "Then he won't have to adjust his expectations." He gently
stroked Nijinsky's back. "She has a nasty tongue as well."
"Only for a select few," Ruth responded.
Nick tilted his head, shooting his disarmingly charming smile. "It's my turn to
be flattered, it seems."