Война за проливы. Операция прикрытия. Александр Михайловский

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes warmed in amusement. He had tiny laughter lines, and the curve of his lips as he smiled was close to irresistible. She was in trouble.

      Why hadn’t he stayed away for a few more years? She still hadn’t found her stable, calm, boring, stamp-collecting dream husband.

      “You have one gray hair?” he asked.

      She nodded. “Yes. It was there this morning. I thought about pulling it out, but Mom’s superstitious. She always claimed seven new gray hairs grew in its place. So I decided to let it live.”

      Eddie’s chest shook as he laughed. As she was pressed against it she couldn’t help but notice. His fingers brushed through the hair at her temple, sifting through it, as if in search for that lone gray ranger. “You could always get a magic marker and color it. I’m sure they make one in auburn.”

      “Nah. I’ll let it live and grow old gracefully.”

      “It’s your birthday, kiddo. Gray hair or not, why aren’t you out on the town with a hot date?”

      “Why aren’t you?” she countered. She really should sit up now.

      “I am,” he assured her. “Your mother told me I would be having dinner with the most beautiful girl in the world.”

      Oh, jeez. “I see. Did she tell you the most beautiful girl was already married?”

      Eddie’s gorgeous eyes went wide in shock. “You got married?”

      She giggled as she used the opportunity and slid away from him. She moved to the other side of the sofa and smirked at him. “No. I’m not married. Yet. But Mom is. She’s the one who invited you to dinner, isn’t she?”

      He glowered at her. “Tease. You had me worried there for a minute.”

      “Aw, Eddie, no need. You know you’ve ruined me for all other men. No one else has ever thrown me over his shoulder and carried me down a mountain almost comatose after sunstroke.”

      Eddie winked at her. Maria looked away and grimaced at herself. They should turn to good old-fashioned adult conversation. No more flirting. Not that she’d anything against flirting. It was all fine and well, but not with Eddie. Definitely not since he could make her insides flutter like that.

      Sneaking up on him had been stupid. Now her face was flushed, her breathing was off, and the way he felt against her was imprinted on her memory.

      Not good. Not good at all. Time to act like a serious grown-up.

      “It’s been forever,” she said. “How’ve you been? Where have you been?”

      He put an arm across the back of the sofa and shrugged, flicking his hair away from his face. “Here and there. Mostly there.”

      “Imagine that,” she said dryly. “When did you get back? Been in town long?”

      “Almost a week.”

      Maria smiled ruefully. “For you, that’s quite a long stay.”

      “I’m staying for a while, this time,” Eddie told her. “My nephew needs me. He’s my godson, remember?”

      Maria nodded, surprised—and skeptical. Jenny’s beautiful little son had been diagnosed autistic last year. He was a challenging little boy—didn’t need much sleep and was on the go around the clock, getting bigger and stronger by the day. Jenny was starting a behavioral program at home, one that required a lot of time and effort. She had high hopes—but it would take a lot of work.

      Yes—Jenny and Samuel desperately needed help, especially now that her husband had jumped ship, but for Eddie to settle down and become a professional uncle—it seemed almost absurd.

      “I haven’t seen Jenny forever,” she said. “We speak on the phone occasionally, but we sort of lost touch after she got married. It’s a shame. I should give her a call this week.”

      “Next week is better. She’s out of town with Samuel, doing some sort of a workshop to prepare for the new treatment program.”

      Maria nodded. “I’ll call her next week, then. So, you might be here all summer?”

      Eddie shrugged. “I’m staying a while. For now, your parents have hired me as a consultant for Intrepid Adventurers—and we’re approaching an agreement on things.”

      Agreement? What kind of an agreement?

      Before she could ask, Eddie was pointing at her. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you. How’ve you been?”

      “Fine. Great. I quite like life without adventurer’s spirit. Life is pretty good. Tell me—how are your parents doing? I haven’t seen them in years.”

      Their parents had spent many vacations together—doing something exciting and thrilling. Maria had hated those vacations, everything from skiing to bungee-jumping.

      Later, when she’d finally gotten up the nerve to tell her parents her true feelings about adventuring, they’d allowed her to stay behind, and she’d gotten to hang around at the cabin or the ski lodge or whatever lodgings were available. Life had become lovely. Finally, vacations she didn’t have to fear. She could curl up in an armchair with a book and hot chocolate, or sketch the scenery, or bundle up to build a snow army outside, or go for quiet walks and just let her mind wander.

      She liked excitement to stay put inside her head. It was just the way she was, and she didn’t apologize for it any longer.

      Eddie, on the other hand, had loved every minute of it. He’d come along on every single trip, and bit by bit Maria had become more and more irritated by the way her parents would look at him and then at her, as if thinking “why can’t she be more like Eddie?”

      Almost unaware of what she was doing, Maria frowned. Eddie had always been perfect. The perfect son—only he wasn’t theirs. He was the boy next door, always brave and competent, laughing through danger when she was holding back tears, singing his way up a mountain while she was sweating and panting and wishing she’d been born to a pair of couch potatoes.

      Her emotions had gone through a regular roller-coaster ride where Eddie was concerned. As a child she’d adored him when they were at home, when things were calm. She’d resented him during summer vacations when he’d been her parents’ surrogate son, the perfect one. She’d developed a huge crush on him in her teens, culminating in a mortifying incident when she was eighteen.

      Since then she’d rarely seen him. He’d been away, adventuring all over the world. Her parents got regular postcards—always with a PS she’d come to depend on as one of the constants in life: Say hi to Maria for me.

      “Mom and Dad are fine,” Eddie was saying. “They’re still in Egypt, no talk of returning anytime soon.” He tapped her shoulder. “But weren’t we talking about you?”

      Maria crinkled her nose. “I’m boring, Eddie. Remember? Nothing remotely interesting about my life.”

      Eddie was nice enough to chuckle, as if she’d made a joke instead of stated a fact. “Your mother tells me you’re working as an artist and a writer now.”

      Maria СКАЧАТЬ