"Linda Evans - Time Scout 3 - Ripping Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Evans Linda)

holoprojector they’d borrowed from the campus library. “Nah. You’ll just film
it, win an Oscar or two, and take his job. Can you imagine? A member of the
Temple on faculty?”
Jenna grinned-and bushwhacked Carl from behind while he wasn’t looking,
getting in several retaliatory tickles. He twisted around and stole a kiss,
which turned into a clutch for solid ground, because she couldn’t quite bring
herself to tell Carl the worst part of her news, that her aunt knew. Just how
much Cassie knew remained to be seen. And what she intended to do about it,
Jenna didn’t even want to think about. So she just held onto Carl for a long
moment, queasy and scared in the pit of her stomach.
“Hey,” he said gently, “it isn’t that bad, is it?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s worse.”
“Cassie loves you, don’t you know that?”
She looked up, blinking hard. “Yes. That’s why it’s worse.”
His lips quirked into a sad, understanding little smile that wrenched at
Jenna’s heart. “Yeah. I know. Listen, how about I clean up the place while
you’re out, just in case she wants to visit, then when it’s over, I’ll give
you a backrub, brush your hair, pamper your feet, spoil you silly?”
She gave him a watery smile. “Lover boy, you got yourself a deal.”
Then she sighed and stepped into the shower, where she could let the smile
pour away down the drain, wishing the fear would drain away with it. Christ,
what could she tell Aunt Cassie? She tried to envision the scene, quailed
inwardly. Cassie Tyrol, cool and elegant and very Parisian, despite her New
Hollywood accent and the ranch up in the hills, where Jenna had spent the
happiest summers of her life-the only happy ones, in fact, until college and
the Temple and Carl. . . . Aunt Cassie was not likely to take the news well.
Not at all. Better, of course, than her father.
Two hours later, Jenna was still quailing, despite the outward charm of her
smile for the maitre d’ at Luigi’s, the most fashionable of the restaurants
owned by increasingly wealthy members of New York’s leading Lady of Heaven
Temple. It was little wonder her aunt had chosen Luigi’s. Given Cassie’s
prominence in the New Hollywood Temple, she probably had a stakeholder’s share
in the restaurant’s profits. Jenna’s only aunt never did anything by halves.
That included throwing herself into her latest religion or making money the
way Jenna accumulated rejection slips for her screenplays.
The maitre d’ greeted her effusively, by name. “Good evening, Ms. Caddrick,
your aunt’s table is right this way.”
“Thank you.” She resisted the urge to twitch at her dress. Carl had, while
she showered and did her hair and makeup with the most exquisite care she’d
used in a year, worked a genuine theatrical miracle. He’d rushed over to the
theater department and liberated a costume which looked like a million bucks
and had only cost a few thousand to construct, having been donated by some New
Hollywood diva who’d needed a tax write-off. Jenna, who existed by her own
stubborn insistence on a student’s budget that did not include dinner at
Luigi’s or the requisite fashions appropriate to be seen there, had squealed
with delight at his surprise.
“You wonderful idiot! If they’d caught you sneaking this out, they’d have
thrown you out of college!”
“Yeah, but it’d be worth it, just looking at you in it.” He ran his gaze
appreciatively across her curves.