"Folsom, Allan - The Day After Tomorrow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Folsom Allan)

embarrassed or silently shopping or letting life be what it was? All,
she thought. All.

And dinner, like most of the afternoon, was more of that same kind of
thing, a tender, silent exploration by man and woman instinctively
attracted to one another. holding of hands, an exchange of glances and,
finally, the long, searching stare into the other's eyes. More than
once Paul had felt himself become aroused. The first time it happened
they were browsing through baked goods in a large department store. The
area was crowded with shoppers and he was certain every eye was on his
groin area quickly picking up a large bread, he discreetly held it it
front of himself while pretending to look around. Ver&, saw him and
laughed. It was as if they'd been lovers for a very long time and
shared a secretive thrill playing it out in public. After dinner they
walked down the rue des Alpes and watched the moon rise over Lake
Geneva. Behind them was the Beau-Rivage, Paul's hotel. He'd planned
dinner, .the walk, the evening, to end there in his room, but suddenly,
now that it was at hand, he wasn't quite as sure of 'himself as he
thought. He'd been divorced less than four months, hardly time enough
to get back the confidence of being an attractive bachelor, and a doctor
at that. In the old days, he tried to remember, how did he do it? Get
a woman to his room? His mind went blank, he couldn't remember a thing.
He didn't have to; Vera was way ahead of him "Paul," she said and
smiled, tucking her arm in his, pulling him close against the chill of
the air coming across the lake, "the thing to always remember about a
Woman is that you only get her in bed if the decision is hers."

"Is that a fact?" he deadpanned.

"Absolute truth."

Reaching in his pocket he took out a key and held it up. "to my hotel
room," he said.

"I have a train. The ten o'clock TGV to Paris," she said
matter-of-factly, as if it was something he should have known.

"I don't understand." His heart sank. She'd never mentioned a train,
or that she was leaving Geneva that night.

"Paul, this is Friday. I have things to do in Paris over the weekend,
and Monday at noon I must be in Calais. It's my grandmother's
eighty-first birthday."

"What do you have to do in Paris this weekend that can't wait?"

Vera just looked at him.

Well, what?" he said.