Read Online Songbird by Syrie James - Free Book Online Page A

They’re imaginative, impulsive, open to new ideas. They respond to the moment. Is that true of you?”
    “ Sometimes.”
    A challenging look crept into his green eyes, and she sensed he intended more by the question than appeared on the surface.
    “ I just haven’t been around many other crazy, spontaneous people lately,” she added.
    “ It’s time we changed that.”
    The shiver that ran through Desiree’s body had nothing to do with the breeze that whipped her hair across her cheek. She pulled her sweater more tightly around her.
    “ Cold?” he asked.
    “ I’m fine.”
    “ You can have my jacket if you’d like.” He began to shrug out of the tailored suit jacket.
    “ No thank you, that’s not necessary.” She flashed him a grin. “Anyway, the sleeves would probably hang down to my knees.”
    “ I’m not that tall. Only five-ten.”
    “ You seem tall to me.”
    He finished the last bite of his ice-cream cone. “That’s because you’re such a tiny pixie yourself.” When he saw her grimace at his choice of words, he stopped and slipped an arm around her waist. “Hey! What’s wrong with being short?”
    She almost forgot his question, she was so entranced by the feel of his body next to hers, and the sound of his voice against her ear.
    “ Being short is a pain. I can’t reach the top shelves in my kitchen. I can’t reach the dipstick to check the oil in my car. Clothes off the rack never fit me right. Every time I buy a pair of pants, I have to cut off at least six inches at the hem. And since I’m so small, it seems I’ve had to fight all my life to be noticed, to be respected.”
    “ You didn’t have to fight to catch my attention,” he said softly. “I think you’re the perfect height.”
    “ Perfect?” To disguise her rising discomposure, she made a face and imitated Barbara’s Brooklyn accent. “You think five-feet-and-three-eighths is perfect?”
    Chuckling, he drew her closer. “Do you have any idea what a relief it is to be out with a woman who doesn’t have to worry about whether or not she’ll be too tall for me if she wears heels?”
    She laughed, loving his ability to put her at ease. “That’s one problem I’ve never had, no matter who I’ve gone out with. And thank goodness you’re not any taller. I practically have to bend my neck in half to look up at you as it is.”
    “ At last, a woman who can appreciate my height.” He went silent for a moment, smiling, and then nodded towards her cone. “You know, except for the chocolate chips in your ice cream, the peach and mint chip look exactly the same color to me.”
    She searched his face, relieved at the lack of embarrassment she saw there, but unsure how to respond. The breeze had ruffled his hair and she stifled an impulse to brush the unruly strands off his forehead. “What do they look like to you?”
    “ Sort of a light beige, I guess. I assume they’re completely different colors?”
    She nodded. “Do you have trouble seeing all colors?”
    “ No. Mainly reds and greens. I don’t know what purple looks like to you—to me it looks blue.”
    His nearness and the mild fragrance of his cologne were doing strange things to her heartbeat. She finished her cone, stepped back and knelt in the sand a few feet away and rinsed her hands in the gently flowing surf.
    A sudden thought occurred to her. Last night, he said he’d wanted to be a pilot, but that circumstances had prevented it. With a jolt of painful awareness, she remembered reading somewhere that normal color perception was mandatory for air force and commercial pilots.
    She stood up and shook her hands dry. Hesitantly she asked, “That’s what kept you from becoming a pilot, isn’t it? Being color blind?”
    “ Yes.”
    “ Why is color perception so important?”
    “ Warning lights, mainly. In military and commercial aircraft, each light in the cockpit conveys a specific message. Green is status quo. Amber’s a warning. Low oil pressure,