669小说网

第13部分（第3页）

It　wasnt　an　easy　task。　Ross　seemed　to　be　everywhere　she　turned。　He　used

her　office　to　make　his　calls；　lounging　back　in　her　chair；　legs　long　and

straight；　crossed　lazily　at　the　ankles；　propped　on　the　corner　of　her

desk。

His　presence　filled　the　room　so　that　it　took　a　conscious　effort　on

Chloes　part　to　quietly　creep　in　and　steal　her　own　work。　He　followed　her

every　move　with　interest；　though　he　was　at　the　same　time　maddeningly

capable　of　carrying　on　his　end　of　what　was　obviously　a　business

discussion。

After　retreating　to　the　back　porch　to　bask　in　the　rays　of　the　westward

sun；　she　put　her　best　effort　into　organizing　the　papers　on　her　lap。　But

her　best　effort　was　sadly　lacking。　Her　mind　wandered。　Then　Ross　appeared

in　the　flesh　to　ask　about　a　bucket；　a　sponge；　and　some　old　towels。　He

was　right　on　schedule；　his　self…satisfied　air　announced。　He　vanished；

then　reappeared　and　deposited　the　car…wash　gear　on　the　sandy　grass

beside　the　very　same　porch　on　which　she　sat。

Would　he　do　it　here？　she　wondered。　The　smooth　hum　of　his　cars　engine　as

he　pulled　the　vehicle　close　by　the　side　of　the　house　was　her　answer。

He　wanted　an　audience；　the　rat。

She　should　have　gotten　up　and　left；　but　she　sat　right　there　in　the　large

wood…slatted　porch　chair；　watching　while　he　put　his　best　effort　into

washing；　drying；　and　polishing　his　sporty　brown　BMW　As　he　stretched　to

soap　the　roof；　the　muscles　of　his　shoulders　bunched。　When　he　squatted　to

scrub　the　whitewalls；　the　muscles　of　his　thighs　swelled。　When　he　reached

across　the　front　windshield；　his　shirt　separated　from　his　jeans；　giving

fleeting；　devastating　glimpses　of　a　flat；　hard　belly。　And　through　it　all

was　the　sight　of　hands　and　forearms　at　work；　lightly　tanned；　softly

haired。

When　Chloe　had　taken　as　much　as　she　could；　she　stacked　her　papers　into　a

pie；　left　the　chair；　and；　without　a　word　to　explain　her　sudden

departure；　went　into　the　house。　To　clean？　She　hated　to　clean！　How　else；

though；　to　expend　some　of　the　nervous　energy　that　had　gathered　inside？

She　swept　the　floors　and　vacuumed　the　carpets；　all　at　doublespeed；　all

with　every　bit　of　elbow　grease　she　could　muster。　Tables；　chairs；

countertops；　and　shelves　met　similar　fates　beneath　her　dustcloth。

Perspiration　beaded　on　her　upper　lip。　She　barely　noticed。

The　football　game　offered　a　different　torment；　but　one　that　was　no　less

agonizing。　She　was　polishing　the　aged　oak　banister　halfway　to　the　second

floor　when　the　familiar　sound　waited　up；　and　she　sank　down　on　the　homey