"Shanna Swendson - Enchanted, Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swendson Shanna)

tone warm and friendly, with none of the smarmy oil he'd had in our previous
encounters. "Good to see you. And I'd like you to meet Owen Palmer, one of my
colleagues."

Owen, who was just as cute as I'd remembered, actually blushed as he shook my
hand. He didn't quite meet my eyes, ducking his head a little bit instead. Most guys
who look that good are pretty confident about it, but his shyness was absolutely
adorable. If he was part of this company, this job was looking better and better.

"Please have a seat," Rodney said. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"A cappuccino, please," I said. I normally didn't let myself buy the pricier coffee
beverages, but it looked like he was paying, so I might as well indulge myself.

He headed off to the counter, which left me alone with Owen. It looked like
conversation was up to me, for he seemed to be trying to read his fortune in the
nutmeg sprinkles on the top of his own cappuccino. "So, do you live around Union
Square?" I asked. "I noticed you yesterday at the subway station."

He blushed again, then looked up at me with a shy smile, almost meeting my eyes
this time. "Yes, I do," he said, the first words I'd heard him speak. He had a pleasant
voice.

"It's a great area, isn't it? I've lived around there a year, and I don't think I've even
begun to explore it." I laughed. "Boy, I sound like a tourist, don't I? No native would
gush this much."

Still blushing, he smiled. In spite of his dark, almost black, hair, his skin was fair, so
the blushes really showed. Poor guy. I wondered how he survived in business.
Maybe he was a real demon in writing. He couldn't cope with meetings, but his
memos were killers.

Rodney returned to the table and placed a small swimming pool of cappuccino in
front of me. Seriously, I could have used it as a hot tub. I promised myself I
wouldn't drink all of it, not if I wanted to sleep that week.

He took his seat, waited for me to take a sip, then said, "I'm sure you have a lot of
questions."

"Yeah, about a zillion. All of them, in fact. Your e-mails weren't very informative.
You didn't even tell me what kind of company you're with."

The two men exchanged a look I couldn't read, then Rod turned back to me and
said, "It's hard to fit that kind of information into an e-mail."

"It's also difficult to describe our business in a way that doesn't sound alarming,"
Owen added, in the first full sentence I'd heard him speak. It seemed he did okay
when he was on a business footing. Maybe he just didn't know how to talk to
women.