Литература Исландии: от саг до Оулавюра Сигюрдссона. Евгений Стаховский

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Литература Исландии: от саг до Оулавюра Сигюрдссона - Евгений Стаховский Стаховский Live

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worse. Ashley just hadn’t been worth it. When it came right down to it, he’d known his pride had been a whole lot more bruised than his heart. So he’d walked out on her without a big scene, not moved by her crocodile tears. And he’d let Tim off with a punch in the face...and a warning to watch his wallet since Ashley was a bit of a spender.

      Frankly, that was why he figured she’d gone for the guy to begin with. The one place Tim had ever outdone Leo in anything was the wallet. Hopefully the lawyer would continue raking in the bucks to keep Ash supplied in the stupid snowmen figurines to which she was addicted. Actually, screw it. He didn’t care if she never got another one, or if the freaky-faced little monsters melted. At least he didn’t have to look at them anymore.

      “Sir?” the desk clerk prompted.

      Realizing he’d let his mind drift, he shoved away thoughts of Ashley. He was in paradise and had no room in his head for anything dark. “Sounds great, thanks.”

      “Here you go,” she said, handing him a plastic keycard. She also gave him a map of the property. “I hope you have a wonderful time. There are so many things to do, so many people to meet.”

      He needed to get away from her slightly pitying expression before she mentioned that she had a single niece or something.

      The bellhop approached with his suitcase and led him out of the lobby onto a path that wound through the lush grounds. He pointed out a few conveniences including, Leo thought, directions to the pool area and the beach. Or maybe he’d been pointing out a bird or an outhouse, frankly, Leo had no idea.

      Finally, they came to a stop in front of a thatch-roofed cottage. “You,” the man said with a big smile.

      Nodding, Leo slid his key into the reader. The light didn’t turn green, and he didn’t hear a click as the lock disengaged.

      “Is no good?” the belhop asked.

      “Doesn’t appear to be.”

      The worker took the key card, tried himself, several times. It didn’t work for him, either.

      “Forget it. I’ll have them reprogram it,” Leo said, not happy about having to trudge back to the lobby. Right now, he just wanted to strip out of his clothes and take a cool shower.

      “Here,” the bellhop said, pulling out his own master keycard. That would save him the lobby trip for a while, anyway.

      Following the man inside, Leo glanced around the room. It was large, airy, bright and immaculate. The vaulted ceiling was lined in pale wooden planks and two fans spun lazily overhead. Sandstone tile floors, peach walls, vibrant paintings of island life...just as advertised. A small café table designed for cozy, intimate breakfasts stood in one corner near a love seat. And the enormous king-size bed looked big enough for four honeymooners. He hid a sigh and shifted his gaze.

      The bellhop lifted the suitcase onto the dresser, then headed over to unlock the patio door. He pulled it open and a warm, salt-and-flower-tinged breeze wafted in, bathing Leo’s skin. He wouldn’t need any AC; the ocean breezes were amazing.

      “Pool, is very private,” the man said.

      “I can see that.” Naked midnight swims had sounded appealing when they’d chosen this place. “Thank you,” he said, pulling some cash out of his pocket and handing it over.

      The man smiled and departed. Alone, Leo walked to the sliding door, glancing outside at the small pool, which was surrounded on all sides by a tall hedge covered with bright pink flowers. The owners had really meant it when they’d promised privacy for the pool. The resort boasted a large one, with a swim-up bar and lounge chairs, but right now, wanting that coolness on every inch of his skin, he figured this smaller one would do the trick. Midnight naked swims? Hell...with that hedge and the stone wall behind it, daytime ones would be fine, too.

      Smiling, he checked out the rest of the suite, pausing in the bathroom to strip out of his clothes and grab a towel, which he slung over one shoulder. He returned to the patio door, put one hand on the jamb and another on the slider and stood naked in the opening, letting that breeze bathe his body in coolness.

      Heaven.

      He was just about to step outside and let the warm late-day sun soak into his skin when he heard something very out of place. A voice. A woman’s voice. Coming from right behind him...inside his room.

      “Oh. My. God!”

      Shocked, he swung around, instinctively yanking the towel off his shoulder and letting it dangle down the middle of his body. To cover the bits that were dangling.

      A woman stood in his room, staring at him, wide-eyed and openmouthed. They stared at each other, silent, surprised, and Leo immediately noticed several things about her.

      She was young—his age, maybe. Definitely not thirty.

      She was uncomfortable, tired, or not feeling well. Her blouse clung to her curvy body, as if it was damp with sweat. Dark smudges cupped her red-rimmed eyes, and she’d already kicked off her shoes, which rested on the floor right by the door, as if her first desire was to get barefoot, pronto.

      Oh. And she was hot. Jesus, was she ever.

      Gorgeous, in fact, with honey-brown hair that fell in a long, wavy curtain over her shoulders. Although reddened, her big green eyes were sparkling, jewel-toned, heavily lashed, with gently swooping brows above. Her face was perfect—high cheekbones, pretty chin, lush mouth. That body... Well, he suddenly blessed perspiration because the way that silky blouse clung to the full curves of her breasts was enough to make his heart skip every other beat. And the tight skirt that hugged curvaceous hips and several inches of long, slim thigh— leaving the rest of her legs bare for admiring—was making it skip every one in between.

      She was also something else, he suddenly realized.

      Shocked. Stunned. Maybe a little afraid.

      “Hi,” he said with a small smile. He remained where he was, not wanting to startle her.

      “I... You... You’re naked!”

      “I am, yes.”

      Her green eyes moved as she shifted her attention over his body, from bare shoulders, down his chest, then toward the white towel that he clutched in his fist right at his belly. She continued staring, scraping her attention over him like a barber used a blade—close, oh so damned close, and so very edgy.

      Something like comprehension washed over her face and her tensed, bunched shoulders relaxed a little bit. “Did Tommy send you?” she whispered.

      “Huh?”

      “Of course it was Tommy. Or Candace? But, wait, this isn’t... I’m not... Look, I don’t need you.”

      “Don’t need me for what?” To do your taxes? Cut your hair? Carry your suitcase?

      Put out your fire?

      Oh, he suspected he could do that last one, and it wasn’t just because of his job.

      “To have sex with me. I don’t need to get laid this badly.”

      His jaw fell open. “What?”

      She

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