Нэнси Уоррен – Underneath It All (страница 8)

He chuckled, unable to resist. “No, I’ve got computer chips for brains, remember?” He leaned against the doorjamb, casually, watching one particular ringlet brush her temple. He could have watched it for hours. He’d never seen anyone with such sexy hair.

She put her hand to her cheek. She had the kind of fair skin that blushed easily. “Did I say that to you?”

“Among other things.” The urge to indulge in a little light banter, initiate the game, was strong. It took an effort of will to prevent himself, to move away from the wall and stoop as he backed outside.

“I’ll post that schedule in the laundry room, then. If there’s anything else we should schedule, like lawn mowing, or garbage duty or whatever, just let me know.” His glasses were sliding down his nose; he jabbed them irritably back up with a forefinger.

“Okay,” she said, a hint of humor in her voice. “’Night.”

“’Night.”

A long walk would do him good. He needed something to get his mind off the first attractive female he’d met in Seattle.

It was a clear night. From the duplex on Queen Anne Hill, Darren sauntered downhill in the general direction of the harbor. The smell of summer was in the air, assorted flowers, freshly mown grass and dogwood trees in full bloom.

After a good long walk, he’d worked up quite an appetite. He passed through Pioneer Square, his feet stumbling over the restored cobbled roads. He liked this area of town. Many of the late nineteenth-century buildings had been preserved and the old shells housed new life: coffee bars, offices, shops and restaurants.

He saw bright light spilling out of a corner pub and his stomach grumbled audibly. He read the name lettered on the door—O’Malley’s. He smiled to himself. It was a night for the Irish.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm. Wood paneling and a massive bar that must have been as old as the building gave an antique charm to the place. Taking a seat near the end of the long bar, Darren ordered a Red-hook ale, brewed locally he was assured, and a burger. Remembering to slouch was no problem as he tried to perch his tall frame on a bar stool.

A couple of attractive women came in and looked around for somewhere to sit. They looked him over and then sat at the other end of the bar. He’d never thought of himself as attractive to women, because he’d just never thought about it. But being evaluated and found lacking was a new and unpleasant experience.

As the bar filled up, no one but the bartender came near him.

He was just finishing his second beer and thinking about heading home when a slight, balding man entered O’Malley’s. His cheap suit hung awkwardly on his bony frame. The light seemed to bother him, or maybe it was a tic that caused him to blink rapidly as he looked around the room. Darren chuckled silently when the man chose the stool next to him. It seemed the man saw in him a kindred spirit. If he had to strike up a conversation with a stranger, he wished it had been the pretty girls.

The man ordered a cheeseburger and a light beer. He took a sip of his drink and turned to Darren. “Nice evening,” he said.

“Yeah.”

The man squinted and blinked a few times. “I wish I had my glasses on. Darn contact lenses are driving me crazy. I only wear them when I see clients.”

“What kind of work do you do?” Darren asked politely, waiting to be bored.

“Computer programming.”

His boredom disappeared. “No kidding, that’s my line of work.”

The two were soon deep in conversation, engaged in the instant bonding of two people who share the same passion. Finally, the man introduced himself as Harvey Shield. He said, “I’m surprised we haven’t met before. Who do you work for?”

“I just moved to Seattle.”

The blinking eyes surveyed him sharply for a few moments. Taking another sip of beer, he said, “You seem pretty knowledgeable, where’d you go to school?”

“MIT.”

“Ever have a Professor Elliot?”

“Old Nellie? Sure. He was a mean old boot, but he sure knew operating systems.”

Harvey Shield nodded. “Had a habit of failing more students than he passed.” He took another drink of his beer. “How’d you do?”

Darren returned the scrutiny. The man beside him had contacts in the computer industry. Now was not the time for false modesty. He grinned. “Top of the class.”

Harvey grinned back. “So was I, fifteen years ago.” He sighed, as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Listen, I need another programmer on my team. We’re falling behind on a big job. I don’t have time for ads in the paper and interviews. How’d you like to come work for us for a while on contract?”

Darren blinked. He hadn’t intended to look for a job, but one week of spending 24/7 with only a computer for company had him convinced that a longer stint of that was not healthy. Besides, with no other distractions, he thought about his downstairs neighbor far too often. A job in his industry would get him out of the house, give him other like-minded types to connect with, and the extra money meant he could stay in Seattle as long as he needed. He already had his own company set up, with a separate tax ID, so his paychecks wouldn’t even have his name on them.

He was very glad he’d chosen this particular night, and this particular bar. “Harvey,” he said extending his hand, “you have yourself a deal.”

Darren walked back home in an entirely different mood. He had a job. Dean Edgar had snagged it all on his own without any help from the Kaiser name. And he had freedom like he’d never had in his life with months stretching ahead to work on his project. To succeed or fail on his own terms.

He was whistling softly when he got back to the duplex. He had to pass Kate’s door to get to the stairway that led up to his own apartment. She had a motionsensitive light hooked up that almost blinded him when it shone full on his glasses.

As he dropped his head in reaction, he had the unpleasant but now familiar experience of seeing his own newsprint-grainy face grinning up from the bottom of the recycling bin.

With a muttered curse he leaned down and snatched the paper up. Please, let them not have figured out he was in Seattle.

“Can’t afford your own copy?” He jumped at the sound of Kate’s voice from behind him. She sounded half amused, half exasperated.

Fighting the urge to hide the wretched thing behind his back, he flipped the paper inside out to hide his picture. “Sorry, I…ah…forgot to buy today’s. Just wanted to check the sports scores.”

The shock of seeing himself in the Seattle-Post Intelligencer made him unusually clumsy and suddenly a cascade of newsprint hit the ground. His grinning face mocked him from dead center. He stomped his sneaker square on his own face, and squatted, grabbing what he could and scrunching the paper back in the recycling bin.

Kate dropped down beside him. “Here’s the Lifestyle section.” She looked up at him and with a shake of her head thrust the section back in the bin. She picked up another bundle, and he could see she’d retrieved the fashion page. She didn’t say a word, just gave a secret little smile and shoved it on top of the Lifestyle section.

“It’s okay. I can manage,” He sounded desperate. He felt desperate; pretty soon he was going to have to move his foot.

She was so close, her hair kept swinging against his shoulder, gleaming chestnut and ruby when she moved. No wonder she worked in a beauty salon, she was a walking advertisement for her profession. She even smelled like a beauty salon: like tropical fruit and exotic lotions. How was he supposed to think straight?

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.