The Swallow's Nest. Emilie Richards

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СКАЧАТЬ men. I do try to keep work and play separate, though.”

      “Do you go out of town a lot?”

      “Depends on what’s in the pipeline. The job pays my bills. I can’t refuse.”

      “I might be able to find you something closer to home.”

      She pictured a deadly dull office job. Creating a marketing plan for the latest innovation in denture cream. Putting out a company newsletter with feel-good stories about the new water dispenser and the tenth anniversary of the underpaid cleaning service.

      She chose her words carefully. “I like being out in the field. I was born to travel. I love seeing new things. So the job suits me well enough. We’ll find time to be together.”

      “Have you traveled much? Real travel, I mean?”

      “Not nearly enough.” In truth, not at all.

      “My wife didn’t like it. I always wanted to go, and she always wanted to stay. Mostly we stayed.”

      “You didn’t go anywhere?”

      “Europe once. We came home two weeks early because she missed her garden and our dog. Somebody was supposed to come in, weed and water, but they didn’t do it the way she wanted, so she never went anywhere for more than a weekend again. And even then, we had to take Doolittle.”

      “I guess each person is different. I haven’t been able to travel and always wanted to. She could and didn’t.” Her sigh was real. “And what about you? Now that you can, do you plan to?”

      “It’s not the same without somebody you love.”

      Marina thought traveling alone would be great. Nobody to answer to; nobody to take care of. Just her, doing whatever she wanted.

      “Maybe we could travel together,” he said.

      She squeezed his shoulder. “I would like that. So many places to see and all of them interesting. But I won’t have any time off, Blake. Not for most of the year. I had to use most of my personal days for the surgery.”

      He sneezed and ended the conversation by blowing his nose.

      She took that opportunity to head into the kitchen to broil the steaks and finish their dinner. When she took out the garlic bread to replace it with the steaks she saw she hadn’t, as hoped, mastered the complicated oven settings. The bread was charred. She wrapped it tight before she tossed it in the garbage, but the burned smell lingered. She was glad Blake had a cold.

      When they finally sat down to eat he complimented her on the meal, but she could see he was only going through the motions. He wasn’t running a temperature—she had checked—but the first stages of a cold were often the worst. When he set down his fork, she did the same, even though she was only half finished.

      “I think you need a shower and bed, my boy.” She got up and removed his plate. “I’ll tuck you in, but I think you’ve got a long night of sneezing and coughing ahead of you.”

      He was as docile as a lamb, getting up as ordered to head into the master bedroom. In a few minutes she heard the shower running. As she cleaned the kitchen she ate the rest of her own dinner standing up. Then she tucked both plates and the serving dishes into the dishwasher and got it going, did one final swipe of the counters and prepared to leave.

      As she gathered her purse and the jacket that dangled lower than the hemline of her skirt, the doorbell rang. The shower wasn’t running, but Blake was still in the bedroom. Shrugging, she set down her things and went to peer through the peephole. This was a gated community, and two men about her own age in jeans and sport shirts had made it through security and now stood on the porch. She opened the door a crack.

      “Can I help you?”

      The taller of the two, a man with perfectly normal features that were one size too large for his face, wrinkled his oversized nose. “Who are you?”

      “Since I’m on this side of the door, I think I’m supposed to ask that question.”

      He glared at her. “I’m Wayne Wendell, and my father lives here.”

      She saw the resemblance now, although Blake, at his son’s age, would have been much better-looking.

      She opened the door all the way and held out her hand. For the first time that day she was sorry she’d chosen her shortest skirt. “Marina Tate. I’m a friend of your father’s.”

      Wayne hesitated a moment before he took her hand, then he inclined his head toward the man beside him. “My brother, Paul.”

      Paul Wendell looked nothing like Blake. He was at least four inches shorter than Wayne, with a belly that hung over his belt and close-set eyes that were even closer now because he was scowling. Marina shook his hand, too, then gestured for both to come inside.

      “Your dad’s not feeling well. I’m almost sure it’s just the start of a cold, but I came over to make him dinner. He’s on his way to bed now. He needs to sleep.”

      “How well do you know my father?” Paul asked.

      She pretended not to understand. “I’m sorry?”

      “I said, how well do you know my father? I don’t think he’s mentioned you.”

      “I’ve known him a while.”

      “In what capacity?” Wayne’s eyes traveled down her legs.

      For a moment she didn’t understand. When she did she stepped back and stared at him. “You think he pays me for something?”

      He sniffed the air, where the smell of burned bread still lingered. “Not for your cooking.”

      She could feel heat rising in her cheeks. Blake took that moment to come out of the bedroom wearing a robe and slippers. His hair was damp, and clearly he had been in the shower.

      The moment he saw his sons, he frowned. “Is everything all right?”

      “You said you weren’t feeling well. We were checking on you.” Wayne gestured to Marina. “And look who we found.”

      Blake didn’t respond immediately. Instead he lifted one eyebrow before he went to Marina and put his arm around her. “Marina made me dinner. Not that I need to explain.”

      “I think I’d better go.” Marina kissed Blake’s cheek, then pulled away. “You need your rest. I’ll call tomorrow from San Francisco if I get a break. But drink plenty of juice. I bought extra, and there are cold meds on the counter. Please, call the doctor if you start feeling worse.”

      “We can take care of our father.” Paul stepped aside, leaving a clear path to the door.

      “I’m so glad you can.” She smiled at him. Then, just because she could, she winked. “But not in all the ways that I can.”

      Blake laughed.

      If the gloves had still been on, now they were off. Wayne stepped forward. “Dad, what are you doing? This woman is probably younger than СКАЧАТЬ