Sneaky
bastard.
If her first throw had connected, she could have hurt him, and they
both knew it. By giving her back some of what she'd dished out, he was
forcing her to acknowledge her own double standards—that it was okay
for a woman to hit a man, but not vice versa.
A taut silence stretched between them. She bit her lip to contain the
hundred and one explanations, justifications and motivations for the
way she lived her life, to prove to him he'd got it wrong, got her
wrong. She wanted to tell him that her bedroom at home looked as if a
bomb hit it, that she laughed at dirty jokes and that sometimes she
even drank her beer straight from the bottle. She wasn't uptight or
prissy, she was just very professional at work. And very committed to
her training schedule. Thinking all this through helped take the edge
off his words. He was just using some pathetic playboy measuring stick
to assess her, and because she didn't match his idea of what a woman
should be, he labeled her repressed and uptight. Just because she
didn't wear tight miniskirts to work and fall all over herself to
giggle at his jokes and wear her cleavage like the latest fashion
accessory. Just because she was an achiever, and hardworking, and
focused.
The truth was, he was probably scared of her. Threatened. It was
typical, really—putting her down so he could build himself up. Almost,
she felt better. Almost.
Unbidden, a memory popped up: the dinner she'd had with her old college
friends last month. There had been lots of excited chatter as they
caught up on the four years since they'd all last hooked up. Sue had
been full of her kids' antics, her husband's achievements and her own
dream of selling her handmade quilts on the Internet.Georgiahad been
excited about her upcoming wedding to the fabulous Greg, as well as
being quietly proud of achieving partner in the law firm where she
worked. And Claire had shared her achievements with the magazine, and
talked about her chances of winning the upcoming statewide triathlon
semifinal. She'd gone home that night feeling contented and replete
after a good catch-up with her old friends. Now she remembered a look
she'd caught Georgia and Sue exchanging. Was it possible they'd felt
sorry for "poor Claire" and her empty life? When she'd apologetically
left the table to take a quick cell phone call from someone at
Hillcrest Hardware, had they talked in hushed tones about her being
uptight and dronelike ? About how alone she was— still single —and how she was filling her empty hours with meaningless exercise?
SuddenlyGeorgia's suggestion that Claire should meet her friend Tony—a really amazing, laid-back guy —took on a whole new light.
Hell, maybe everyone thought she was uptight. Miserable, she hunched down against the wall. Page 30
She racked her brain, trying to think of the last time she'd done
something spontaneous and impulsive. There'd been that time when she'd
snuck in the back way at the movies with her boyfriend…but that was
when she'd been sixteen, and didn't really count anyway as she'd
practically wet her pants with terror she was so worried about getting
caught.
What about that time she and some triathlete friends had gone
skinny-dipping after a late night beach party? Except that she had been
one of only a few who'd chosen to swim in their underwear instead of
going the full skinny….
Okay, all right. What about that crazy hat she'd worn to her best
friend Jo's party last year? She'd found it in an old magic shop, a top
hat with a bunny jumping out of it. She'd won best prize at Jo's party
with that hat.
She suppressed a groan and rested her head in her hands. A hat. She was trying to pin her personality on a stupid novelty hat.
She glared across at the man who'd started all this, focusing all her
self-doubt and insecurity on him and his big mouth and insensitive
comments. What did he know, anyway? Who was he, sitting there with
those stupid sandals and his perfect hair and his
bastard.
If her first throw had connected, she could have hurt him, and they
both knew it. By giving her back some of what she'd dished out, he was
forcing her to acknowledge her own double standards—that it was okay
for a woman to hit a man, but not vice versa.
A taut silence stretched between them. She bit her lip to contain the
hundred and one explanations, justifications and motivations for the
way she lived her life, to prove to him he'd got it wrong, got her
wrong. She wanted to tell him that her bedroom at home looked as if a
bomb hit it, that she laughed at dirty jokes and that sometimes she
even drank her beer straight from the bottle. She wasn't uptight or
prissy, she was just very professional at work. And very committed to
her training schedule. Thinking all this through helped take the edge
off his words. He was just using some pathetic playboy measuring stick
to assess her, and because she didn't match his idea of what a woman
should be, he labeled her repressed and uptight. Just because she
didn't wear tight miniskirts to work and fall all over herself to
giggle at his jokes and wear her cleavage like the latest fashion
accessory. Just because she was an achiever, and hardworking, and
focused.
The truth was, he was probably scared of her. Threatened. It was
typical, really—putting her down so he could build himself up. Almost,
she felt better. Almost.
Unbidden, a memory popped up: the dinner she'd had with her old college
friends last month. There had been lots of excited chatter as they
caught up on the four years since they'd all last hooked up. Sue had
been full of her kids' antics, her husband's achievements and her own
dream of selling her handmade quilts on the Internet.Georgiahad been
excited about her upcoming wedding to the fabulous Greg, as well as
being quietly proud of achieving partner in the law firm where she
worked. And Claire had shared her achievements with the magazine, and
talked about her chances of winning the upcoming statewide triathlon
semifinal. She'd gone home that night feeling contented and replete
after a good catch-up with her old friends. Now she remembered a look
she'd caught Georgia and Sue exchanging. Was it possible they'd felt
sorry for "poor Claire" and her empty life? When she'd apologetically
left the table to take a quick cell phone call from someone at
Hillcrest Hardware, had they talked in hushed tones about her being
uptight and dronelike ? About how alone she was— still single —and how she was filling her empty hours with meaningless exercise?
SuddenlyGeorgia's suggestion that Claire should meet her friend Tony—a really amazing, laid-back guy —took on a whole new light.
Hell, maybe everyone thought she was uptight. Miserable, she hunched down against the wall. Page 30
She racked her brain, trying to think of the last time she'd done
something spontaneous and impulsive. There'd been that time when she'd
snuck in the back way at the movies with her boyfriend…but that was
when she'd been sixteen, and didn't really count anyway as she'd
practically wet her pants with terror she was so worried about getting
caught.
What about that time she and some triathlete friends had gone
skinny-dipping after a late night beach party? Except that she had been
one of only a few who'd chosen to swim in their underwear instead of
going the full skinny….
Okay, all right. What about that crazy hat she'd worn to her best
friend Jo's party last year? She'd found it in an old magic shop, a top
hat with a bunny jumping out of it. She'd won best prize at Jo's party
with that hat.
She suppressed a groan and rested her head in her hands. A hat. She was trying to pin her personality on a stupid novelty hat.
She glared across at the man who'd started all this, focusing all her
self-doubt and insecurity on him and his big mouth and insensitive
comments. What did he know, anyway? Who was he, sitting there with
those stupid sandals and his perfect hair and his
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