"Coughlin, Patricia - Love In The First Degree" - читать интересную книгу автора (Coughlin Patricia)

Its turquoise hue would have played up the blond streaks in her light
brown hair and made her eyes look even bluer. Not that it mattered,
she told herself again. After all, she was here to help Luke, not
impress him.

She barely had time to sit and open her briefcase before Luke was led
in by a guard, who did a quick inspection of the room before stepping
out again.

"You've got thirty minutes," he informed them as he pulled the door
shut.

Claire watched, not even breathing, as Luke leaned back against the
locked door. At six-one, he was tall enough that his head rested
against the small window near the top of the door. He was wearing the
standard prison-issue blue jeans and chambray shirt with white,
high-top Nikes. Several days worth of whisk en added a decidedly
menacing touch to his lean face. Whiskers and prison garb aside,
however, he was still, hands down, the most arrogantly handsome man
Claire had ever seen.

Gone was the dark brown, shoulder-length mane she remembered from high
school, and the passing years had left faint creases on his faoe that
hadn't been there back when he'd been the undisputed bad boy of their
small hometown of Oaklawn, Rhode Island. Under the best of
circumstances , thirly-two looked differenl from twenty, and Claire had
good reason to suspect that the circumstances of Luke's life had been
less than the best. The newspaper photo taken at the time of his
a=rest had prepared her for the small, in-evitable changes in his
appearance, but nothing could have prepared her for the way he was
looking at her.

His gray eyes were narrow, his gaze coolly assessing. He let it slide
from her face, down over her pearl gray designer suit and matching
high-heel pumps, and back again. He didn't look pleased.

But, Claire noted in an attempt to reassure herself, at least he wasn't
staring at her blankly.

"Hello, Luke," she said, getting to her feet and extending her right
hand. "I'm-" " " I know who you are, " he said, ignoring her hand and
purposefully folding his arms across his chest. " The question is,
what the hell are you doing here? "

His deep voice was rough with annoyanoe, but Claire knew for a fact how
that same voice could be silky smooth when he was trying to comfort or
reassure.

"I thought my initial message made all that clear," she replied,
dropping her arm back to her side and trying to look unconcerned by his