"MacLeod, Ian R - Nina" - читать интересную книгу автора (Macleod Ian R)

"What's that?" Nina leaned over close to him, pushing back wet strands of her
hair, droplets forming at the tips of her breasts, enclosing him in her soapy
scent.

"Just the thing I told you about earlier, sweet," Max said, resisting the
temptation to tuck it back away in the grit of his pocket like some guilty
secret. "The guy that came this morning, he said it was a scrap of the sky."

"That's impossible."

"That's what I told him."

"But it's neat, isn't it? Don't you think it would go well in my hair with the
silver gray dress I got down at Mario's?"

"Sure," Max said, although he hadn't the faintest idea what particular dress she
meant. But it would look good. Everything looked good on Nina.

"Let me."

He didn't resist as she took it from his hands. She held it up to her shoulders,
her face. "It smells like . . . like evening. Like alleyways and the seashore,
flowers closing for the night, seagulls up in the air. Sunset, almost."

Max shrugged. "If you say so."

"Oh, I do. I'll definitely wear it this evening. It'll drive all the other girls
wild."

And what about the other guys? Max thought, watching her as she did a little
twilight dance. Everything with Nina had to be new and fresh --she threw stuff
out when she'd hardly even had time to use it, when the scent of her skin had
hardly settled on the cloth.

Max made an effort. He stooped down to lace his shoes. But he could still see
Nina's perfect brown feet. He loved the curve of her arches, her easy grace, the
twinkle of her toes. Was she really getting more beautiful as he got older, or
was it just some kind of mist that was settling on his eyes? Twenty, thirty
years ago, no woman had lasted more than a season. But now, he was down to one,
and that one was -- just had to be -- Nina.

Oh, Nina. Sweet, bittersweet, bitter Nina. The silk chemise settled over her
shoulders and breasts as she dressed. Max calculated the moment to stand up.
Waiting for the aches to settle, he looked himself up and down in the mirror,
the stiff black evening suit that enclosed all the looseness inside. Now that
would never go out of fashion; the suit, something hard and dark that you could
put on and tie around your neck like a shell. Pity that all the clinics still
couldn't get the rest right.