"Smeds-MarathonRunner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smeds Dave)

Abruptly she raised the bouquet to her nose, covering a bashful smile. She
glanced again toward the headstones. "Would you excuse me for a moment. .
.Neil?"

"Of course."

She nodded, grateful for his instant understanding, and traced her way across
the cemetery. Neil found a shady spot beneath an oak much like the one growing
near Stacey Corbin's resting spot. He sat on a retaining wall, watching the
patterns of the clouds in the sky. Nadine joined him there, sans bouquet.

A babble of thoughts seemed to dance across her brow. Neil tentatively broke the
silence by asking her occupation.

"I was in furniture sales," she answered. "But there's not much need to sell
things like new sofas when a homeowner can just command the old one to change
its color, or create a spare from garden dirt. So I've shifted into interior
design. You'd be amazed how picky everyone's become about their decor, now that
they can afford any style they want, and can change it every day."

"No, I wouldn't be amazed," he said, and told her of some of the home redesign
requests that had flooded his office.

Before Neil knew it, an hour had passed, and his mouth had become cottony from
all the conversation. Suddenly Nadine glanced at her watch. "Oh, my lord! I have
to go!" She winced, as if wishing she'd forgotten to put the timepiece on that
morning.

"Can I take you out to dinner some time?" he asked. The question tumbled out
without having to think about it.

The green of her eyes deepened, or was that just the widening of her pupils?
"Yes."

"How about tomorrow night?"

She pursed her lips. "How about Tuesday instead?"

She laughed at his tiny frown of disappointment. "You northern boys are so
impatient." She lifted her hand up. Recognizing the gesture, he kissed her
knuckles.

A trace of a shiver rolled along her arm.

"We have plenty of time," Nadine said. She gave him her Link access number and
turned to go.

Yes, Neil thought, watching the wiggle of her hips as she disappeared down the
street. Time. Deep inside himself, he turned from the trophies and record books