Пятьдесят оттенков синего. Наталья Косухина
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it over her shoulders. She stopped walking and turned around to face him. Since she was higher on the slope, they were eye to eye, and he realized she was petite, her bone structure fine.
A question formed in her eyes. “Are you always this—”
“Inquisitive? Pushy? Nosy?” he finished.
She shook her head, her gaze deeply searching his eyes as though she saw a hero. For an instant he wished he were.
She simply watched him with those dark brown eyes that were unusual in a complexion as fair as hers. He’d been around enough women to recognize the spark of interest in her expression, which was totally at odds with her body language.
Thinking she was way too likable for his peace of mind, he said, “You moved here to escape the scandal of being involved with a student.”
“Outrageous.” She laughed.
“That bad, huh?”
“Your behavior,” she said. “Pushy, maybe. Nosy, absolutely. And definitely outrageous.”
“That’s my stock in trade.” He grinned at her. She hadn’t taken his barbs seriously, and she’d responded with humor. An assistant with a sense of humor was a plus. Double if she was easy on the eye, and she was.
They reached the crest of the slope and she stopped walking so suddenly he nearly ran into her. She glanced at him, then away. “My husband died two years ago—”
“I’m sorry.” Something in her voice made him believe that she wasn’t beyond that. That put her in the do-not-touch category, which was too bad since he’d been thinking she was a woman he’d like to touch. All over.
“—and,” she rushed on, “I had a grant that ran out. So the timing to make a change was good. And I really did want to be closer to family again.”
He figured she was telling him the truth—just not the whole truth. He’d read her curriculum vitae and her papers. Her work was original, brilliant, and represented years of commitment.
“So you’re giving up research?”
“For now,” she said.
A shadow chased through her eyes, and he again wondered what she wasn’t telling him. Beneath her easy laugh and open smile, he sensed a flicker of sadness that he suspected she worked hard to hide. Deliberately teasing, he said, “Now that I know you can file…”
As hoped, she grinned. “I knew there was a down side to this job.”
“I have a theory about how the office got to be such a mess.” He waited a beat before adding, “In the dead of night, the files and papers get together, mate, reproduce and create new piles.”
“A topic for your next paper, hmm?” she returned. “Something you could publish in the Journal of Organizational Science, maybe?”
He laughed. “Maybe.”
Lily watched the kids coming up the trail behind them. She gazed at her daughter as though the child was more precious than life. Nobody had ever looked at Quinn like that, but until now he hadn’t thought it mattered.
The kids came over the crest.
“We made it!” Annmarie exclaimed, throwing her arms wide. “I’m king of the mountain.”
“You can’t be king,” Thad said. “’Cause you’re a girl.”
“I can be anything I want,” she informed him. “My mom said.”
“Okay if we go inside and look at the aquariums?” Thad asked Quinn.
“Sure.”
“Last one there has to eat raw fish eggs,” Annmarie taunted. They took off toward the building at a run.
Quinn grinned. “Now that’s one I’m going to remember.”
By the time the two children reached the door, they were neck and neck. Something had caught Annmarie’s attention, and she pointed.
“Mom!” she shouted, her voice full of fright. “Look out!”
Quinn’s gaze followed the line of her pointing finger. A dark-green vehicle was rolling down the slope, picking up speed…and headed directly toward him and Lily.
Chapter 2
Lily glanced over her shoulder, her first thought for her daughter. To her relief Annmarie stood on the stoop in front of the door.
“Move!” Quinn pushed Lily out of the vehicle’s path. Then he sprinted after the car.
“You stay there,” Lily shouted. When her daughter nodded that she understood, Lily started after Quinn. Dear heaven, he was a crazy man. Didn’t he realize he could get hurt?
The vehicle—her car, good God, her car—rolled across the shallow slope like some monstrous, lumbering beast, tipping when one of the wheels rolled over a small boulder. The vehicle veered in a new direction. Quinn caught up with it and pulled on the door handle. He stumbled back, swore, and made a second grab, this time at the back door. The vehicle picked up speed and jerked him along like a rag doll.
“Let go!” Lily’s heart rose to her throat. Any second he was sure to lose his balance and end up under the wheels. The car was headed directly toward the cliff between a huge pine and a flatbed trailer parked in the lower lot—a trailer she didn’t remember seeing earlier.
A tire rolled over another large rock and knocked Quinn to the ground. He disappeared from view and she screamed. A second later the car hit the trailer with a grinding crunch.
Lily came to a skidding halt by Quinn, who was already sitting up. She dropped to her knees next to him. He had a gash on his head that pumped blood. It ran down the side of his head and neck. His attention was focused completely on the car. She spared it only a fleeting glance while raw fear for him pulsed through her.
“Oh, God,” she panted. “You’re hurt.” She grabbed a packet of tissues from her pocket and pressed a wad against the gash. Instantly the blood soaked through.
“Damn it all to hell.” Rolling to his feet, he ignored her and the blood streaming from his head. He stalked toward the crash.
Shaking, Lily stood and trailed after him. Head wounds, even minor ones, bled like the devil. How hurt could the man be when he was swearing? Her attention shifted to the accident. One wheel of her car was in the air, still spinning. Her car, that she had just paid off, looked as though it was permanently attached to the trailer. She hadn’t taken fifteen steps when he turned around to glare at her.
“That’s not my car.” He waved up the hillside toward the parking lot. “That is.”
“It’s mine,” she said, following the line of his finger. His vehicle was nearly identical to her dark green SUV. Except hers was perched precariously against the open trailer. She finally gave the trailer a closer look. Sitting on its flatbed was a small robotic submarine—a huge white and silver ball with headlights—one of them broken—and mechanical arms—also one broken—that looked alive.
“And that—” he was beginning to sway as he gestured toward the trailer “—is a submersible that has been here for exactly—” He squinted at his watch as though he couldn’t read it. “Forty-three minutes. I parked it down here so nobody had a chance in hell of running into it. Do you have any idea what I went through to get it? Only sell my soul.”
Her legs rubbery, Lily’s gaze followed his accusing finger. The whole passenger side of her car was caved in, and the trailer was dented where the car had hit it. She wrapped her arms around herself, which did nothing to lessen her shaking or the fear that made her throat tighten.
Once again, Quinn tried to open one of the doors on her car, then leaned down to peer inside. Straightening, he swore again.
“You left the keys in