New Way to Fly. Margot Dalton

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СКАЧАТЬ easy,” Mary said. “I’m just a few miles out on the other side of town, bordering Brock Munroe’s place.”

      “What’s this?” A cheerful male voice came from the other side of the archway, beyond Amanda’s line of vision. “Mary Gibson, are you talking about me behind my back?”

      Mary smiled and turned away to peer at the newcomer, who was still hidden from Amanda. “Hi, Brock,” she said. “My, don’t you look spiffy, all dressed up in a suit and tie.”

      “I feel like a trained monkey in this rig,” the man with the deep voice said, reflecting such rueful distaste that Amanda smiled and leaned around the archway to see what he looked like.

      At the same moment he stepped forward to allow a server past him, and faced Amanda head on. His mouth dropped open, his dark eyes widened, and he stood rooted to the spot, staring at her with such obvious amazement that her pale cheeks became a delicate pink.

      But she collected herself almost at once, gave the man a polite smile and calmly returned his gaze.

      He was certainly an arresting physical specimen, several inches taller than six feet with a rangy muscular look and an impressive breadth of chest and shoulders to balance his height. His face was tanned and clean-cut, his dark hair disheveled, his eyes warm and alert as he continued to stare at Amanda. When she smiled, he grinned back automatically, one side of his wide mouth lifting in an engaging lopsided grin that showed a flash of beautiful white teeth.

      Amanda always noticed people’s hands. This man’s hands were hard and brown, probably as callused on the palms as old leather, but they were beautifully shaped, with fine square palms and long fingers.

      Amanda looked back to the man’s shining dark eyes. She was beginning to feel uneasy. Apparently Mary Gibson was also becoming uncomfortable at the intensity with which the man was staring at Amanda.

      “Brock, this is Amanda Walker,” Mary said finally. “Amanda, Brock Munroe, my nearest neighbor. He has a ranch right next to mine.”

      The tall man broke his gaze with a visible effort and extended his hand. Amanda took it almost reluctantly and felt her own hand swallowed in his firm grip. Brock Munroe’s hand was just as steel-hard and strong as she’d expected. And she was distressed by the sudden tingle of sexual excitement that shivered through her at his touch.

      “Amanda does clothes buying and TV commercials, things like that,” Mary explained.

      “I know,” the man said abruptly. “I’ve seen her on television.”

      He was staring again, as if trying to memorize every line and detail of Amanda’s face.

      Or, Amanda thought in warm confusion, as if they were already well-known to each other, lovers meeting again after a long, long separation…

      Mary smiled at them and began to edge away, murmuring something about helping Virginia with the buffet, but Brock and Amanda were so absorbed in their sudden and surprising contact that they hardly noticed her departure.

      “So,” Brock said with that same abrupt tone, “what exactly is a personal shopping service, Amanda? What is it that you do for a living?”

      “I dress people,” Amanda said automatically. “I help them to select a balanced complementary wardrobe, and the proper accessories to achieve a total look. And then I price-shop the stores for them, over as wide an area as I’m able, as well as the catalogues from the better houses.”

      The man beside her nodded thoughtfully. Amanda looked up at him with a cautious critical eye, noticing for the first time that his suit had to be fifteen years old, at least, with its old-fashioned lapels and the awkward dated cut of the trousers. And that tie…

      Amanda couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was to see a man like Brock Munroe dressed this way. With his beautifully-formed body, he’d look just wonderful in a really well-cut suit.

      She stole another glance at his lapels.

      “Eighteen years,” he told her quietly.

      Amanda looked up at his face, startled. “I beg your pardon?”

      “This suit. I bought it eighteen years ago for my high school graduation. That’s what you’re thinking, right? That I look real tacky and out-of-date?”

      Amanda flushed and then realized with annoyance that this reaction had been as much of a giveaway as her earlier expression of distaste. “Clothes are my business,” she told the man stiffly. “I can’t help but notice cut and style. It’s my job.”

      “And you think I’ve failed to deal with all those tiny intangibles that add up to a total look?”

      Amanda glanced up at him sharply again, recognizing her own words in his deep teasing voice. Was she being gently ridiculed by this handsome rustic?

      “I wasn’t really thinking about your appearance at all,” she lied, trying to keep her voice cool. “I’m just enjoying the party, and I was looking for my friends, actually. I think they’re out on the patio.”

      She began to edge away but the man put his big hand on her arm, just below her elbow. To her horror and growing annoyance, Amanda found herself thrilling once again at the warmth and intimacy of that touch.

      She jerked her arm and Brock released it instantly. He reached to lift a glass of white wine from a passing tray and handed it to Amanda.

      “Thank you,” she said, pausing to sip from the crystal goblet, while struggling to compose herself.

      “How do you know Mary?”

      The question came as a surprise. Amanda hesitated. “Actually, I don’t,” she said. “We just met today. I have some clothes she’s interested in seeing.”

      The man turned to stare at her. “Mary?” he asked in disbelief. “Mary Gibson is hiring a personal shopping service? A professional image-maker?”

      Amanda felt another surge of irritation. “Look, Mr. Munroe,” she began, “you’re certainly free to have any opinion you like about my job. But that doesn’t mean that I—”

      “What do you like to do?” he asked, ignoring her cool tone. “I mean, when you’re away from the job? What kind of person are you, Amanda? You know, I’ve always thought…” He paused suddenly, looking embarrassed.

      “What? What have you always thought?” Amanda asked, intrigued by his sudden discomfort.

      “Nothing,” the big man said with a casual shrug. “I’ve always liked to find out what interests people, that’s what I was going to say.”

      “You want to know what interests me?”

      “Yeah. I want to know what you’re like. I mean, do you spend all your time getting your hair done and reading fashion magazines, or do like to jet-set around the world, or what? When you’re all alone, what do you dream about?”

      Amanda bit her lip and stared at him in silence, thinking about his question.

      What did she like to do?

      The tall man watched her calmly, apparently СКАЧАТЬ