At His Fingertips. Dawn Atkins
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Название: At His Fingertips
Автор: Dawn Atkins
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
Серия: Mills & Boon Blaze
isbn: 9781408959374
isbn:
He gave her a look.
“What? So maybe it’s a little hectic at times.”
“That’s what phone machines are for. People take advantage if you let them.”
“The more you give, the more you have to give.”
“Some people take until you say no.”
“That’s quite the world view you have. I don’t know how I’d get up in the morning feeling that negative.”
“It’s not negative. It’s realistic. If you accept human nature, you don’t have misunderstandings and you don’t get disappointed.”
“Or you expect the best and people strive to meet your expectations.”
“I think I read that on the wall of your office.”
He made her idealism seem silly. She rarely had to defend herself, since everyone she knew respected her abilities. This man was like a blast of cold water in the middle of a hot shower. “I happen to believe it’s true.”
“I guess we see things differently.” The pity and judgment in his expression were like a brand on her skin.
“But you know you’re right, don’t you?” She was startled by how quickly her response to him had changed. She went from attraction to hope to irritation to anger with lightning speed.
“No more than you do.”
“You think that by helping others I neglect myself and what I really want? Is that what you think?”
He shrugged.
“I can assure you that’s not what’s happening.” She hated how defensive she sounded. She was usually calm and patient and balanced in her remarks.
“You would be in a position to know.”
“And I do know,” she snapped, then caught herself “Why am I arguing with you?” She sagged, frustrated and upset and so maddeningly hot for the man.
“I don’t know. Frankly, I’m in no position to criticize. My sofa’s got a permanent sag from my brother sleeping there, my remote is stained orange from his Cheetos, and I’m here doing his homework.”
She laughed lightly. “So, you’re a soft touch, too?”
“Just ask my secretary.”
“I don’t know why I’m so defensive,” she said. “Maybe it’s because I know you don’t approve of me.”
“Maybe I just don’t understand you.” He was being kind.
She appreciated the gesture, but couldn’t quite let it stand. “And what you do understand, you disagree with.”
“Not…exactly.” He rolled his shoulder. “We’ve got détente. Let’s leave it at that, why don’t we?”
“You’re right. After you cut up the star fruit, maybe you can help me arrange the furniture?” And during the meteor shower, maybe he’d sense their cosmic bond and they could get past butting heads.
Right, and maybe Huffington and Pistol would do a minuet on the kitchen table.
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