"Whitley Strieber - Cat Magic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Strieber Whitley)

She could only feel kindness toward him, since he had been so willing to let her stay here. As soon as she
came in, she had understood the reason for his eagerness: without Kate and the kids, this place was more
grim than it had ever been before.

тАЬYou're looking lovely, Amanda.тАЭ

тАЬWhy not? I've escaped Manhattan, and tomorrow I meet Constance Collier.тАЭ

As he looked at her, his eyes brimmed with what she suspected might even be desire. Had she been a
damn fool to stay with him? Perhaps she should have gone straight to the estate. But Miss Collier hadn't
offered her accommodation. All of her old town habits came back. She dared not be forward with
Maywell's leading citizen. Her agent had agreed. тАЬDon't jeopardize the project by making demands right
at first,тАЭ Will T. Turner had advised.

тАЬHave you got anything to drink?тАЭ Amanda asked. George padded off in his big sheepskin slippers,
across the chipped linoleum of the game-room floor.

тАЬOld Mr. Boston brandy good enough for you?тАЭ

She took it and sipped. тАЬMmm. Just the thing to relax.тАЭ

тАЬI'm glad you're here, Mandy.тАЭ He stood close to her. тАЬI'm sorry the house was such a mess when you
came. I just completely forgot. We've been very busy over at the lab.тАЭ

тАЬDoing good things?тАЭ

тАЬI'm hopeful.тАЭ

She nodded, sipped again.

тАЬIt's just that I'm so damn tired.тАЭ He snorted out a laugh. тАЬWe were very successful today. Very
successful.тАЭ

тАЬDo you want to tell me about it?тАЭ

тАЬNot really. Except to say that it was rather a triumph.тАЭ His eyes regarded her steadily.

If she stayed in this house, George was certain to make passes at her. She did not need that. She would
have to risk giving Constance offense and request a room at the estate when they met in the morning.

She was ready to ask George some polite question about his triumph, when something unusual
happened. One of her most treasured talents was the ability to have detailed visualizations on demand.
But they never came like this, unbidden.

And yet, despite the fact that she was healthy and not in the least tired, she found herself in the grip of just
such an uncalled vision.

She saw a haggard George, crouching in a dark room, perhaps even the awful cold room in this house's
basement. Her mother used to store coats there, in what had been billed in the brochure as a wine cellar.