"Damsel under Stress" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swendson Shanna)

Even the next day, the memory of that kiss made me almost warm enough to have to unbutton my coat, although it was a raw December day. If I thought about it, I could still feel the touch of his hand on my face.

I doubted much had changed in those few hours. He was just being Owen, utterly dedicated to his life s work. That was one of the things I liked about him. If he d blown off the crisis at work because he wanted to spend the day with me, he wouldn t be Owen and I wouldn t have liked him nearly as much.

I got to my apartment building, unlocked the front door, and went up the stairs, pausing only briefly on that landing where the last kiss had taken place. Then I went the rest of the way to my apartment, which was more crowded than I expected it to be. Not only were Gemma and Marcia there, but Connie, the former roommate who d married and moved out soon before I came to New York, was there, as well. They were gathered around the kitchen table, looking like they were having a summit meeting.

 Katie! You re back early, Gemma said when she noticed me.  What happened?

 He had an emergency at work, so we just had coffee, I said as I took off my coat. I left out the part where we had coffee while we walked to the subway station. Gemma and Marcia, in good girlfriend form, weren t inclined to be forgiving toward what they perceived as my dates missteps.

 What did you say he did? Marcia asked.

I hadn t said anything about what he did. It was kind of hard to explain without bringing up the concept of wizards, and if I said he worked in research and development, it didn t sound important enough to warrant the kind of emergency absences I could expect from him.  He s an executive with the company I work for, I said. That was probably vague enough and sounded important enough to cover a lot of bases.

Marcia nodded.  Yeah, that s the downside of dating powerful men. As driven and career-oriented as she was, she was the most likely to understand someone else who made work a priority. I was surprised, though, at how wistful her voice sounded.

 When you ve got one who looks like he does, you can make the occasional allowance, but don t let him get away with it too often, Gemma said. She turned to Connie and added,  You should have seen this guy. He seemed pretty nice, too, what little we saw of him. Our little Katie snagged herself a good one.

 What brings you down to this end of the island? I asked Connie.

 Minor relationship crisis, Gemma answered before Connie could speak.  And you re just in time.

 For what?

 Ice skating at Rockefeller Center.

While I was still trying to figure out what ice skating had to do with a relationship crisis, Gemma handed me a piece of paper.  What do you make of this? she asked.

The paper was stiff and heavy, the kind used for formal correspondence. I unfolded it to see a handwritten note in a flowing script. The note invited Gemma and her friends to go ice-skating this morning at Rockefeller Center, and specified a time that Philip would call for us.  It looks like an invitation to me, I said with a shrug.

 You don t think it s odd?

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Saying there was something odd about Philip, Gemma s boyfriend, was putting it mildly. Although she didn t know it, he was a magical person who d been living under a frog enchantment for decades before he was freed a month or so earlier. You couldn t expect a guy who d been living near a pond in Central Park and existing on flies to be anything approaching normal. I thought he was coping pretty well with adapting to modern times and readapting to life as a human, but it wasn t as though I could tell Gemma all that. She didn t know anything about magic, and there s no way to explain the frog thing without getting into magic.

 A handwritten note is unusual, I admitted.  It is kind of charming, though. It s sweet.

 It was hand-delivered, by someone else. It s like he s avoiding me, or something. Hasn t he heard of text messaging? Or maybe this nifty new invention called the telephone? I always have my cell with me, so he has no excuse for not being able to reach me directly. And what s with inviting all my friends? What kind of date is that?

 It s a date where you re getting no action, Marcia said drily.  And let s face it, that s the real problem. He hasn t slept with you yet.

Gemma actually blushed, which may have been a first.  Well, there is that. But it s not the only issue. He s started to be  busy.  She made air quotes with her fingers.

In adherence to the universal law that the person you re talking about will show up while you re talking about him, the buzzer from downstairs sounded. Gemma got up and ran to the intercom. I felt that Philip was lucky the intercom only worked from our end when someone pushed the button. He d have probably keeled over if he d heard this conversation. Gemma pushed the intercom button and said,  We ll be right down.

 I ll come up to meet you, Philip s voice replied, scratchy over the speaker.

 You don t have to do that, Gemma insisted, then released the button and turned to us.  Well, come on. If I have to have chaperones for my date, you may as well be the ones. Then you can tell me if I m imagining things.

We all collected purses and coats and trooped downstairs. I had to admit that this arrangement was a little odd. Even Owen, as shy as he was, hadn t come up with anything like this for a date. Though, come to think of it, we hadn t yet had a real date, so I couldn t compare.