"Christine W. Murphy - Through Iowa Glass" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Christine W)

humming. The sound rumbled deep and rich in his chest. His hands looked well
scrubbed -- strong hands with swirls of dark hair on the backs. Manicured
nails. A surprise, considering his generally unkempt state. Her heart thudded
oddly when she noticed his ornate silver wedding band.
She smelled pine soap, and damp leather and old cigarettes from the
jacket slung over his shoulder. A wide band of lighter skin circled one wrist.
Had he lost his watch in the attack or had he sold it for gasoline and candy
bars? He stopped humming before she recognized the tune.
"Are you ready to go home, Christy?" Skye asked.
Sleepily, the girl nodded.
"Your daughter looks like she's ready for bed," Alex said.
Their eyes met over Christy's blond curls. Skye detected rebuke in his
eyes. She understood his mistake. Christy had inherited from her father the
same fair, blond Swedish looks Skye got from her mother. Besides, Alex's
concern for a child he didn't know made her feel strangely warm inside.
"I sure wish Christy was mine," Skye teased, tickling the sleepy girl
as she gathered her into her arms. "But she has a grandma who's waiting for
her, don't you, peanut?"
The girl was almost asleep when Skye handed her to Marvin. Alex stood
with her and watched the tow truck driver walk down the street. When Marvin
rounded the corner, Alex leaned against the door frame as if too tired to
stand unaided.
She watched while he rested, his eyes closed. Dark where Ben was fair,
hair long where Ben's was short, but Alex reminded her of her late husband --
concerned about children, evidently careless with money. She frowned and
crossed her arms over her chest. "You seem to like children, Alex. Do you have
any of your own?"
He ran his hands over his face. "You said something about coffee."
"Sorry." Skye led the way to the kitchen, her face hot with
embarrassment.
Alex hung his jacket on the back of Marvin's chair and brushed aside
donut crumbs before he sat.
"I'm unofficial director of the Close Senior Citizen's Center, for the
moment," she said, searching for a neutral topic.
"I'm temporarily without employment and marooned here, it looks like."
Alex stood and looked at his car, still hooked to Marvin's tow truck.
Skye poured the last of the coffee into two Styrofoam cups and pushed
one across the table. "No one's going to take your car. Close is a pretty safe
town."
"Can't prove it by me. My reception wasn't too friendly."
"Marvin told me. I'm sorry."
The fine lines around his eyes deepened when he smiled, and his brown
eyes seemed to call to her. The warm feeling in her middle spread to her toes.
She grabbed a cup to keep her hands busy.
"No reason for you to apologize," he said. "Or are you responsible for
law enforcement as well as the Senior Center?"
"My grandfather used to be the sheriff here, and my husband worked for
the department part-time. When you live in a small town, you can't help
wanting to make a good impression." She took in the damp shirt that clung to
his arms and chest. "Even the weather isn't cooperating. Do you have dry