Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 2
Whywouldthisbeautiful,powerful,urbanemanwanttoseeme?Theideaispreposterous,andIkickitoutofmyhead.
“AreyouinPortlandonbusiness?”Iask,andmyvoiceistoohigh,likeI’vegotmyfingertrappedinadoororsomething.Damn!Trytobecool,Ana!
“IwasvisitingtheWSUfarmingdivision.It’sbasedinVancouver.I’mcurrentlyfundingsomeresearchthereincroprotationandsoilscience,”hesaysmatter-of-factly.See?Notheretofindyouatall,mysubconscioussneersatme,loud,proud,andpouty.Iflushatmyfoolish,waywardthoughts.
“Allpartofyourfeed-the-worldplan?”Itease.
“Somethinglikethat,”heacknowledges,andhislipsquirkupinahalfsmile.
HegazesattheselectionofcabletieswestockatClayton’s.WhatonEarthishegoingtodowiththose?Icannotpicturehimasado-it-yourselferatall.Hisfingerstrailacrossthevariouspackagesdisplayed,andforsomeinexplicablereason,Ihavetolookaway.Hebendsandselectsapacket.
“Thesewilldo,”hesayswithhisoh-so-secretsmile.
“Isthereanythingelse?”
“I’dlikesomemaskingtape.”
Maskingtape?
“Areyouredecorating?”ThewordsareoutbeforeIcanstopthem.Surelyhehireslaborersorhasstafftohelphimdecorate?
“No,notredecorating,”hesaysquickly,thensmirks,andIhavetheuncannyfeelingthathe’slaughingatme.
AmIthatfunny?Funnylooking?
“Thisway,”Imurmur,embarrassed.“Maskingtapeisinthedecoratingaisle.”
Iglancebehindmeashefollows.
