supermarket line, Hitler was really a woman. It’s World War II’s best-kept secret.”
Michelle couldn’t help but laugh at that outlandish tale. “The lesson here is don’t believe everything you read,” Steve said silkily. “And I can always tell when a woman is faking in bed, no matter what the magazines say.”
Her smile abruptly vanished. Any prior sympathy she’d had for him dissolved just as rapidly. “Well, if any man can, I’m sure you’re the one. You’ve certainly had enough experience, haven’t you? All those women, in all those cities?”
“Not that again!” Steve groaned. “That’s when our evening started going off the track, isn’t it? When I mentioned that I had a life outside Harrisburg?”
“A life outside Harrisburg? That’s a shamefully bland understatement! But you’re very good at shading the truth—or sidestepping it altogether. Putting a new slant on it is the lobbyist term for that particular talent, I believe.” Steve heaved an exasperated sigh. “Michelle, I—”
“But I have a bit of advice for you that you might want to keep in mind,” Michelle cut in. She wasn’t going to stop now, she was on a roll. “It could prove useful for all those future dates of yours.”
Steve was well aware that advice was inevitably scathing criticism when it came from a disapproving woman. He braced himself for it.
Michelle did not disappoint him. “These days, boasting about an active, non-monogamous social life is analogous to walking around with a sign saying Warning—Research
Lab Volunteer for the Communicable Disease Center. Thinking, discerning women will not be enchanted.”
“I’ve always been careful!” Steve protested. “Before safe sex became a catchword, I practiced it. From the time I was in high school, my idea of hell was a knocked-up girl at my door telling me that I was officially eligible for a card and a pair of socks on Father’s Day. Bam—end freedom, begin family life. I’ve always taken care to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I commend you on your self-protective efforts,” Michelle inserted with a saccharine smile. “But—”
“But you have more advice? ” Steve interrupted, sounding aggrieved. “Why do women always feel free to take potshots at single men? It’s perennially open season on us.” “Maybe it’s because women don’t like to feel that we’re merely one among many. Fungible. As interchangeable as pennies in a jar. And men like you make us feel that way. Not unique, not special. Just a body and from your point of view, preferably an accommodating one.”
“I guess it would be in poor taste to tell you that your body is definitely special? TThat I could make you feel things you’ve never felt before—unique could apply—if you’d care to be, uh, accommodating?”
He flashed a charming, coaxing smile. Michelle was neither charmed nor coaxed out of her increasing irritation. It didn’t help that she knew he was teasing. For some inexplicable reason his refusal to take her seriously angered her. Far more than it should.
She knew that, too, and it made her even angrier. “I can see we’ve used up the sixty seconds you allot for any kind of serious conversation. Now it’s back to the innuendoes and, the flirting and the smooth little jokes. If you don’t mind— and even if you do—I’m opting out of this round.”
She flung open the car door. A strong gust of wind blew an icy blast of snow into the car, half blinding her. Michelle pushed herself out of the car, gasping as her feet plunged into several inches of cold, wet snow. A moment later, Steve was beside her.
He hooked one arm around her waist and together the two of them trudged toward the building. It was too cold and too windy to try to talk. All their energy was directed to battling the ferocious wind. By the time Steve pulled open the thick glass door and they entered the vestibule of the building, Michelle was gasping for breath. She’d been
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