scarf?” she croaked.
“Yes, your scarf.” Laughing, he withdrew her yellow Chanel scarf, folded neatly. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“I thought you were talking about…my scarf, of course,” she replied lamely. “The cuts on my hand—I was afraid I had gotten blood on my scarf when I tried to grab it.”
“I was able to pull it inside the elevator,” he explained. “But the silk was soiled, so I thought I’d have it cleaned for you.” He smiled again. “I had to drop off a few shirts anyway—I hope you don’t think it was too forward.”
Not when I have your PJs. “Not at all,” she said. “Thank you. This was a gift from my mother.”
“Ah. And where is she?”
“Virginia. Along with my father and older brother.”
He blinked. “Really? I’m from Virginia, too.”
Her surprise was interrupted by the sound of her beeper. “I’m sorry, I’m still on call.” She glanced at the number, then withdrew a small radio from her pocket and punched a button. “Yes, Amy?”
“Sorry to bother you, Cindy, but our special guest in room 620 is complaining about the room temperature.”
Suspecting Mr. Stark was still testing them, Cindy asked, “Too hot or too cold?”
“Too hot.”
“Check the air-conditioning personally, Amy. And take a fan with you just in case.”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
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