Your Heart Belongs To Me [antikvár]

CHAPTER 1Ryan Perry did not know that something in him was broken.At thirty-four, he appeared to be more physically fit than he had been at twenty-tour. His home gym was well equipped. A personal trainer came to his house three times a week.On that Wednesday morning in September, in his bedroom, when he drew open the draperies and saw blue sky as polished as a plate, and the sea blue with the celestial reflection, he wanted surf and sand more than he wanted breakfast.He went on-line, consulted a surfcast site, and called Samantha.She must have glanced at the caller-ID readout, because she said, "Good morning, Winky."She occasionally called him Winky because on the afternoon that she met him, thirteen months previously, he had been afflicted with a stubborn case of myokymia, uncontrollable twitching of an eyelid.