Литература Исландии: от саг до Оулавюра Сигюрдссона. Евгений Стаховский

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 licked her lips. “I mean, you’re very attractive and all.” Her gaze dropped again, and he noticed the redness in her cheeks, and the audible breaths she drew across those lush lips. “Still, I just don’t do that. I couldn’t.”

      He had no idea what she was babbling about. But he was starting to get an idea. The gentlemanly part of him wanted to tell her right away that she was in the wrong room. The male part demanded he wait and see what on earth this beauty would say next.

      “You couldn’t do what?” he asked, letting the towel drop a little bit. Oh, it still covered what he needed to cover, but he wasn’t gripping it the way a spinster virgin would grip her petticoats. And when she licked her lips, eyeing the thin trail of hair that disappeared beneath the terry fabric, he couldn’t resist letting it slip a little bit more.

      He was no flasher. But damn, the woman made it interesting to be ogled.

      Her eyes almost popped out of her head. “I couldn’t, you know, uh, hire you.”

      He didn’t ask what for. It sure wasn’t to trim her hedges. At least, not any green ones. He’d begun to suspect she’d taken him for an escort...or even a gigolo. Why on earth this beautiful woman would need either one, he couldn’t say. But he was having fun trying to figure it out.

      “I’m not desperate. I would never, uh, have sex with a, uh, professional.” Her voice falling into a mumble, she added, “Not even one with the finest male ass I have ever seen in my entire life.”

      Leo was torn between indignation, laughter and lust. Right now, judging by how he felt about the way her assessing eyes belied every word she said about not wanting him, lust was winning the battle.

      “You wouldn’t, huh?” He stepped closer, moving easily, slowly, almost gliding.

      She did the same, edging closer, her bare feet sliding smoothly over the tile floor. “No. Never.”

      They met near the end of the bed, both stopping when they got within a couple of feet of each other. She licked her lips, shrugged her shoulders, and said, “So, thanks for the effort, it was a, um, nice surprise. But I think you should go.”

      “You’d like that, would you?”

      Her eyes said no. Her lips forced out the word, “Yes.”

      “I can’t do that,” he said, his voice low, thick.

      He edged closer, unable to resist lifting a hand to brush a long, drooping curl back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. She hissed a little, tilting her head, as if to curve her cheek into his palm.

      “Why not?” she whispered.

      His tone equally as intimate, he replied, “Because you’re in my room.”

      She froze, eyed him, then quickly looked around. Her gaze landed on his suitcase. She turned to peer into the bathroom, obviously seeing the clothes he’d let fall to the floor. Then back at him. “Your...”

      “My room,” he said, a slow smile pulling his lips up.

      “You mean, you’re a... You’re not a...”

      “Right. I’m a. And I’m not a.”

      She groaned softly, her green eyes growing bright with moisture. Those shoulders slumped again in pure, visible weariness and her mouth twisted. She didn’t look so much embarrassed as purely humiliated. Dejected.

      “I’m so sorry,” she muttered.

      She backed up a step, obviously not realizing how close she was to the bed. Her hip banged into the wooden footboard, and she winced, jerking away and suddenly losing her balance. She tumbled to her side, toward the hard tiled floor.

      Leo didn’t stop to think. He lunged, diving to catch her as she fell, letting out an oomph as she landed in his arms. Her tall, slender body was pressed against his, fitting perfectly, her head tucked under his chin, her slim waist wrapped in one arm, her shoulders in the other. She didn’t immediately squirm away. Instead, she stared up at him, her eyes round, her mouth rounder.

      Their stares locked and he found himself trying to identify just what shade of green those beautiful eyes were. Emerald? Jade? Jungle? Something like all of the above, plus they had a tiny ring of gold near the pupil, looking like a starburst.

      She said nothing, just stared at his face. The moment stretched between them, long, heavy and strange. It was as if they were communicating on a deep, elemental level, no words being necessary, saying everything two people who’d just met would usually