Love Isn't Blind 2 Read Free Page A

that being a great idea and proceeded to ignore the show for the second time in a row. "Did Anthony say if he'd be doing any writing tonight?"
    "He was quite tired from his flight home, and he said he was heading for the shower and then straight to bed. He did want me to let you know that he was leaving some recordings out for you. Notes from his trip, I take it."
    Helene was too absorbed in the drama unfolding on the screen for Ashley to bother her with any more questions. Instead, she did her best to focus on the characters in the show. She was beginning to wish that she lived in the world of the show. The men seemed so charming and honorable, and the ladies were so elegant and bold. She knew it was a silly fantasy, but she couldn't help but imagine Anthony courting her and trying to win her favor instead of the reverse—her working for him and falling slowly in love with someone emotionally unattainable.
    Watching a woman being helped into her dress by a handmaid neatly dissolved the fantasy. As beautiful as the women were dressed, Ashley couldn't imagine having to stuff herself into those cumbersome outfits all the time. Besides, no matter what era they found themselves in, men were men, and people like Anthony Lang would still find ways to run away from their problems.
Chapter Twelve
    WHILE IT WAS GOOD to work on something as straightforward as transcribing recordings of notes on locations to be used in the new book, listening to Anthony's voice for hours on end was considerably less pleasant. As Ashley listened to him give voice to the sounds and smells of the city, it was as though he were on the other end of a phone telling her about what he'd experienced that day. She began to find that she wasn't so much mad at him for running away as she was jealous that he'd gone to Copenhagen without her. She tried to keep her mind on work, but it was too easy to think about sitting across from him at a sidewalk cafe while she was the one describing the courtyards and architecture instead of whatever stranger he'd imposed upon for help.
    She had to admire him for that. He was completely blind and yet his visual descriptions of places were incredibly vivid. Ashley assumed he'd been able to draw from memories in order to write such picturesque words, but now she was learning his real secret. He certainly wasn't shy about stopping someone in the street to ask if he could record them describing the surrounding area. She couldn't figure out how he could tell who was worth picking out of a crowd, but given the extraordinary talents he'd developed in the CIA, she figured it was some trick of sound and smell. Perhaps he heard a certain casual cadence in the way someone walked, or maybe he used the odor of a certain cologne or tobacco to identify those who might be persuaded to stop for a chat.
    Being blind probably didn't hurt anything. He was a sharp dresser and carried himself with confidence. Most people would stop to help a man like him on the street, and add in the fact that he couldn't see, and Ashley didn't see how anyone could not show some sympathy and take a few moments to provide a bit of colorful description for his research. Whatever he did to get them, the recordings were fascinating, if difficult to transcribe, accounts of various parts of the city that were key to his novel. She saw immediately how useful they'd be. Ashley hadn't traveled much herself, having been either too busy with school or too in debt paying for it, and she'd had to rely on things like internet mapping software and photo galleries to get an idea of where her stories could be set. It was easy to be jealous of the sort of success that allowed Anthony to easily hop on a plane and go right to the location of his next book.
    The transcriptions were taking longer than usual, largely due to the challenge of making out the thick accents and uneven speech of people he'd interviewed, but also because of their sheer volume. Anthony seemed to have been dictating