Пятьдесят оттенков серого
Chapter 3
Histoneisclipped,calm,andcold.
“Grey.”
“Er…Mr.Grey?It’sAnastasiaSteele.”Idon’trecognizemyownvoice,I’msonervous.There’sabriefpause.InsideI’mquaking.
“MissSteele.Hownicetohearfromyou.”Hisvoicehaschanged.He’ssurprised,Ithink,andhesoundsso…warm—seductiveeven.Mybreathhitches,andIflush.I’msuddenlyconsciousthatKatherineKavanaghisstaringatme,hermouthopen,andIdartintothekitchentoavoidherunwantedscrutiny.
“Um—we’dliketogoaheadwiththephotoshootforthearticle.”Breathe,Ana,breathe.Mylungsdraginahastybreath.“Tomorrow,ifthat’sokay.Wherewouldbeconvenientforyou,sir?”
Icanalmosthearhissphinxlikesmilethroughthephone.
“I’mstayingattheHeathmaninPortland.Shallwesayninethirtytomorrowmorning?”
“Okay,we’llseeyouthere.”Iamallgushingandbreathy—likeachild,notagrownwomanwhocanvoteanddrinklegallyinthestateofWashington.
“Ilookforwardtoit,MissSteele.”Ivisualizethewickedgleaminhiseyes.Howcanhemakesevenlittlewordsholdsomuchtantalizingpromise?Ihangup.Kateisinthekitchen,andshe’sstaringatmewithalookofcompleteandutterconsternationonherface.
“AnastasiaRoseSteele.Youlikehim!I’veneverseenorheardyouso…so…affectedbyanyonebefore.You’reactuallyblushing.”
“Oh,Kate,youknowIblushallthetime.It’sanoccupationalhazardwithme.Don’tberidiculous,”Isnap.Sheblinksatmewithsurprise—Iveryrarelyhavehissyfits—andIbrieflyrelent.
