"Mary Rosenblum - Home Movies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rosenblum Mary)

with the cart, who smiled back, his dark eyes on hers, set out plates and food on the low table in front of
the silk-upholstered settee, uncorked the champagne with a flourish, and filled two flutes. Handed her
one with a bow, and his fingertips brushed hers.

Full service, she thought, met his eyes, smiled, did the tiny head shake he'd recognize, and handed the
other glass to Ethan as the attendant left. "I take one sip," she said. "That's all. Blurs perception. Here's to
a lovely place and time."

"What a drag. But you're right about place and time." He touched the rim of his glass to hers and they
chimed crystal. Of course. "Tell me what my great great aunt or whatever wants to see.".

You, she thought, lifted the glass to him silently, took her sip. "The family. The ceremony. How everyone
takes it."
"You're not telling me."

"Nope." She grinned. "Of course not."

"Sorry." He laughed and sipped his own wine. "I shouldn't have asked." He sat on the settee, his
expression contemplative. "It's just that she's such a ... I don't know ... renegade. But she got away with
it." He grinned. "She just went out and conquered her own planet." He laughed. "She's a successful
renegade. Unlike us, who never made it pay. I just can't believe that she really cares about this society
wedding, you know?"

She didn't. Not really. Kayla leaned back on the settee next to him, stretching travel-kinks from her
muscles, her eyes on Ethan, examining him from head to toe as if he was her new lover. "So have you
ever met her?"

"Jeruna?" Ethan shrugged. "Nah. I don't think she ever came back here, after she left for Mars. And that
was before I was born."

Interesting. So what did he represent? Kayla took her time, enjoying the view. He was cuter than the
vids. And not the spoiled rich kid she'd expected. Too bad. She squelched a brief pang of "what if."

He flinched, fumbled a cell out of his pocket. "Uh oh. Another arrival to ferry." He stood, set his half-full
flute down on the table. "I was going to ask you if you wanted to skip out on the big family dinner tonight.
Eat down on the beach." His eyes met hers. "But I bet you can't."

"No, I can't." She made her voice regretful, which really wasn't a stretch. "Want to help me out?"
Because his tone suggested he planned to skip it. "Sit by me? Give me a few clues? I'd like to give the
old gal her money's worth."

He hesitated, then shrugged. Wrinkled his nose. "For you, I'll suffer." He laughed. "And now you owe
me."

"Okay, I do." She laughed with him, caught his lean, athletic profile as he turned to leave, promising to
meet her there at the appointed dinner hour. So what does he mean to you? she asked her client silently.
Something, that was for sure. Her services were not cheap.
****
The prenuptial dinner offered excellent food, elegant wine, and the usual boring and self centered
conversations. Obviously the leak had made the rounds. But after the open bar, pre-dinner, and the first