by Lisa Cach
She must have looked ridiculous, her pale flabby body lying on the ground in the corset, all arched and contorted as she petted herself. But Declan hadn’t seemed to think so …
“Grace, Grace, Grace,” Sophia said, and sighed. “How are you going to crush Declan if you can’t keep better rein on your emotions? Arguing with him to what end? Winning a battle of words is not going to win you his heart.”
“Am I supposed to play dumb and agree with everything he says?”
“When you show your intelligence, then yes, it must appear to be in support of his position. He won’t like you if you make him feel like an idiot.”
“I would think an intelligent man would enjoy a spirited debate.”
“Men have to fight for status and resources all day. If you were his business partner, sure, go ahead, argue with him. But as the woman he goes to for relief from the rigors of the world, no. He won’t see it as a welcome challenge; he’s more likely to feel a need to soothe his ego with a softer woman.”
Grace curled her lip. “So I’m just supposed to be a big downy pillow for his tender ego to fall on at the end of the day?”
“And what do you want, Grace? A man who constantly questions your choices and thoughts, or one you know will always support you?”
“A true loving partner can and should do both. You can’t automatically expect support from a spouse if you’re being an idiot. The days of Tammy Wynette and ‘Stand by Your Man’ are over, and good riddance. You can’t coddle someone, protecting them from reality as if they were a child. If they’re making a mistake, they should be told—and first and foremost by their partner!”
An expression of delicate pain flitted over Sophia’s face, her gaze briefly rising heavenward. “So when the world is against you because you made a mistake, your husband should be first in line to tell you you’re a fool?”
Grace tucked in her chin. “I should hope he’d be gentler about it than that. But yes, he should tell me if I’m wrong.”
“Like a parent corrects a child?”
“No, not like a parent correcting a child. Like two equal adults trying to help each other.”
“By criticizing.”
“No! You’re deliberately misunderstanding me!” Grace cried.
A smile played on Sophia’s lips. “Do you love me at this moment more than ever?”
“No!”
“And whose fault is that?”
“Yours! Obviously!”
Sophia chuckled and took a sip of wine, her eyes dancing with merriment. “And still you think that arguments strengthen your relationships with other people.”
Grace opened her mouth to protest, then scowled and shut it.
“And where is Declan this evening?”
“Out with Cyndee.” Grace played with her precious vegetables, starting to feel uncomfortable. There hadn’t been anything worth arguing about with Declan during lunch. She’d been feeling powerful and had deliberately antagonized him, and enjoyed each verbal stab she’d landed. There’d been nothing kind about her actions, quite the opposite.
Sophia gazed at her, silent and sage as an owl.
“Well, what are you supposed to do, then, if someone you care about is being an idiot?” Grace finally asked.
“There’s your start, right there.”
“Where?”
“In a questioning mind, being willing to accept that you do not already have all the answers. Really, Grace, for a supposedly open-minded, liberal woman, you have a remarkably rigid, judgmental viewpoint.”
Judgmental? Rigid? Me? Was that how people saw her? Sophia’s accusation shot an arrow into the core of who she’d always thought she was. Her lower lip trembled.
“Darling, don’t look so downhearted!” Sophia chided gently. “It’s a small flaw and common as daisies. It even has its advantages; it keeps a person from flitting off after flaky notions. You don’t want to be blown by the wind, this way and that, do you?”
Grace shook her head, and sniffed back the incipient tears. She was judgmental, wasn’t she?
“You’re a brilliant, gorgeous, warmhearted woman, and best of all, you care about learning and growing.”
Aunt Sophia thought she was brilliant? The ache in Grace’s heart eased slightly.
Sophia reached across the table and put her hand on Grace’s, squeezing it in gentle reassurance. “If you do sometimes feel that you want to be more flexible, I’m sure you’ll find a way to do it. There’s nothing a woman like you can’t do, when you put your mind to it.”
“Thanks, Aunt Sophia. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”
Sophia’s eyes crinkled. “So how do you feel about your mean old aunt now?”
Grace smiled. “Very fond.”
“Exactly,” Sophia said with smug satisfaction, and sat back.
It took Grace a moment to put the pieces together, and then she choked on her shock. “You—! You just played me, didn’t you?”
“I meant every word.”
“But—!”
“But?” Sophia echoed innocently.
“Ooooh!”
“It’s all part of what I’ve been trying to teach you, Grace. A large part of charisma is in making other people feel that, in your eyes, they matter. They are worthy of attention. You care about who they are, what they say, how they feel, what they think. To do that, you must be open to and respectful of ways of being that are different than your own. You must listen to people. Not argue with them. Argument means I’m right, you’re wrong. Listening means I think your perspective matters and can teach me something. And what you can learn is how to get what you want from that person … or how to destroy them.”
Grace stared at her aunt in horrified awe. “You’re evil.”
“Powerful women usually are called nasty names. Ball breaker. Witch. Tartar. Castrating bitch. Why not add ‘evil’ to the list?”
Grace pointed an accusing finger at her aunt. “Don’t try to pull that ‘put-upon feminist’ stuff with me. You’re a master manipulator.”
“Which just means I’m old and I’m wise. All social interaction is a game of manipulation, Grace. One way or another, we’re all trying to get what we need at the least cost to ourselves.”
She was starting to feel queasy. “Is that what all these lessons in being a bombshell are really about?”
“I said that from the start. But maybe you weren’t listening.”
Grace slowly shook her head. “I’d thought it was just about being sexy.”
Sophia gave the sigh of the weary. “I feel like Anne Sullivan, having finally succeeded in getting Helen Keller to recognize the word ‘water.’ Hallelujah! We begin to progress.”
Grace didn’t know if she wanted to progress. Spike-heeled shoes and low-cut dresses suddenly seemed harmless compared to the mind-set Sophia was trying to teach her.
“How are you going to approach Declan the next time you see him?” Sophia asked.
Grace grimaced, the day’s events somehow seeming an even worse reflection on her character after this talk with Sophia. She had manipulated him, and gotten what she wanted. She’d been mean. She’d been selfish. She’d been argumentative and judgmental. “Declan seems to bring out the worst in me. Maybe I should practice flirting with someone else for a bit.”
“Like whom?”
“Someone who doesn’t make me so angry. Maybe … Dr. Andrew?” Grace peeked up from under her eyebrows and found Sophia’s green eyes resting on her. Grace shrugged a shoulder. “He seems nice.” And maybe she could be herself with him, and have him like her.
“Indeed, he is nice. Nice enough that I think the two of you might make a very good match.”
Grace’s mouth dropped open. “You do?”
“Yes. It was obvious the day you arrived that there was an affinity between the two of you.”
A rush of relief went through Grace. “Then I can practice my lessons on him, instead of Declan!” Andrew, who seemed in tune with who she had always been,
not Declan, who made her act in ways so unfamiliar, both good and bad. Mostly bad.
“What of your plans for revenge?” Sophia asked. “Are you giving up so soon? I was serious about the fifty thousand dollars if you get Declan to fall in love with you.”
Grace choked on a bite of snow pea. “You were?”
“It would be good for him to have his heart broken. And what better final exam for all my teachings?”
“I … I don’t think I’m up to conquering Declan quite yet.” The viciousness of the plot was finally becoming real to Grace, and she wasn’t sure she could ever go through with it, especially not for money. At the same time, part of her was afraid that she might have the stomach for it. What if she truly succeeded, and then enjoyed stomping all over Declan’s heart? Gah! It would make her no better than Sophia. “I can’t seem to control my tongue around him. I obviously need more practice.”
Sophia pursed her lips, considering. “He really did hurt you that first night, didn’t he?”
Grace blinked in surprise and nodded.
“You feel vulnerable with him. You strike out because you’re afraid of him.”
Grace hunched her shoulders. Yes, she was afraid of him. Afraid, too, of the twisted, unruly emotions he roused in her.
“Dear, that’s all the more reason to continue trying to win him over. You can’t go through life striking out at people who hurt or scare you. All that does is show them that you’re weak. It tells them that they’ve wounded you, and a strong woman never shows her wounds unless it serves a purpose.”
“But how am I supposed to control the fear? I can’t help how I feel when I’m with him.”
“You put on fresh lipstick and you smile and you charm him. You make him believe that it will take more than a few mistakes on his part to hurt a woman like you. You remember that you are Grace Sophia Cavanaugh, a beautiful, intelligent woman, and his opinion and feelings about you are of no consequence. You charm him not because you care what he thinks about you but because it’s the most effective way to disarm an enemy.”
“Won’t that just make him think he can treat me badly and get away with it?”
“No. He’ll relax and let down his guard. If he’s unpleasant to you, it’s because he’s scared, too.”
“Of what? What could he possibly be afraid of?”
“That, my dear, is for you to find out.”
“But how am I going to develop a relationship with Dr. Andrew if he sees me with Declan?”
“I think pursuing both at once could work out very well. Andrew has a tendency toward passivity where women are concerned; he loves from afar. If you give him plenty of encouragement, he’ll be spurred to compete with Declan for your affections. But don’t make it too easy for him; every man needs to believe that he’s the hunter. He’ll be proud as a lion when you eventually dump Declan in his favor.”
Grace tilted her head, looking at her aunt with a now-familiar mix of awe and disbelief. “You’ve worked this all out already. You enjoy moving us around like chess pieces, don’t you?”
Sophia smiled serenely. “It’s better than watching Animal Planet all day.”
CHAPTER
13
“I had a really nice time,” Cyndee said, leaning against the jamb of her open apartment door, her key ring jingling as she swung it back and forth on a finger. “Dinner was really good. I liked it a lot.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed the meal,” Declan said, his gaze skimming over for the hundredth time the body so clearly on offer, hoping he would see something to rouse his appetite. She wore a cheap, clingy red cocktail dress that showed off every toned inch of her superbly fit physique. There were hollows between her neck and collarbone, shadows where her ribs connected to her sternum, and her upper arms were no bigger around than a cucumber. He’d happily slept with many women who looked the same, although he’d never quite overcome the fear that if he held one of them too hard she’d snap in half.
Grace looked pillowy and soft, as if her body would bounce back from any grabbing or bumping, and there was plenty to grab and bump. She was a hot fudge sundae to Cyndee’s tiny scoop of lemon sorbet.
Cyndee wet her lips. “I promised you a workout. Do you think you’re up to it?”
He’d been hungry for sex since Grace walked up beside him in her green dress, and his balls were well past indigo. All evening he’d tried to convince himself that a few hours of mattress work with Cyndee would cure what ailed him, but now that sex was his for the taking, he didn’t want it.
At least, not with Cyndee.
Grace had brought him to this point—twice, if he counted the night on the couch—so Grace should be the one to provide relief.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Cyndee, “but I don’t think it would be ethical. It might create a conflict of interest for you.”
Cyndee’s pert little nose wrinkled in confusion. “Huh?”
“Grace is your client, but she’s also a friend of mine. If things didn’t work out between me and you, it could cause problems between you and Grace. I wouldn’t want to endanger your working relationship with a client.”
Cyndee rolled her eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “For God’s sake, Declan, if you don’t want to have sex, all you had to do was say so. Go wank yourself, will ya?” She flounced into her apartment and slammed the door in his face.
Declan blinked in surprise as the dead bolt engaged with an audible click. What was it with women telling him to go fuck himself today?
Happy to be free, he jogged back to his car and drove toward Sophia’s house, where he’d be spending the night. It was only eleven o’clock; Grace might still be up. She was probably lying across her bed on her stomach, reading a dreary feminist manifesto, and wearing nothing but underpants and a T-shirt.
His balls ached at the thought.
He’d left her feeling badly used, even though it had been his own fatheaded idea to claim he could give her an orgasm without touching her. It had been a bluff, meant only to rile her; he’d never imagined she’d call him on it. He’d never done anything with another woman like what he’d done with Grace out in that field, and he knew he’d never forget the sight of her touching herself in obedience to his every word. She’d been as uninhibited as a wild creature, seeking her release under the blue of the open sky. When she’d wrapped her hand around him, he’d felt a shock of pleasure that almost sent him over the edge.
Then she’d climaxed, her hand had dropped away, and she had lain for several long moments enjoying the aftermath of her own pleasure. She’d sat up and covered herself, ignoring the rock-hard bit of anatomy she’d grabbed in her moment of need.
From a strictly rational point of view, he had nothing to complain about. Emotionally and physically, however, he suspected he’d been had.
He came to the turnoff for Sophia’s driveway and slowed, then changed his mind and roared past, heading south for Highway One and a long drive to clear his head.
Going up to Grace’s room in the hopes of her saying “Why, yes, I’d love you to take me, would you prefer the bed or the chair?” was obviously not going to work. She was playing games with him, and winning.
He wouldn’t approach her until he’d figured out her playbook, and how to rewrite it in his favor. By the time this game was over, Grace Cavanaugh would be begging him to score on her. It would be touchdown, Declan O’Brien.
Assuming that he could figure out how.
Grace peered out a hallway window for the eighth time, checking the courtyard below for Declan’s car. It was past midnight and he still wasn’t back from his date with Cyndee. All she could picture was the two of them noisily boinking each other, Cyndee bouncing on top of him and squeaking like a chew toy, her ponytail swinging.
She made a fretting sound and forced herself to return to her room, swearing that she wouldn’t check again. It was undignified. Besides, she didn’t care about Declan and Cyndee.
Andrew was her focus now. Declan could go share STDs wit
h however many women he wanted.
Really. She meant it.
She returned to her desk, where she’d been typing up her latest research notes.
Where was she?
Ah, yes.
Author continuing to show clear signs of mental disintegration. Feeling lust for man Author despises is contrary to Author’s self-identity as a woman who puts the inner person above the outer shell. Acting further on that lust may critically rupture Author’s sense of self. Despised male must be avoided at all costs.
New question: Has Author’s recent focus upon appearance created a greater value in her eyes in the physical appearance of others? Author’s judgments of others may become progressively shallower as more time and energy is spent trying to be attractive. The importance of anything is dependent upon the attention one pays to it. This could explain Author’s attraction to the despised male. His sexually attractive appearance has taken on disproportionate importance in Author’s mind because Author has been forced to obsess about appearances.
Alternative theories for Author’s attraction to Declan:
Chronic physical hunger displaced into appetite for sex, any sex, with anyone.
Pheromones. Despised male’s man musk had been noted upon initial meeting on stairway.
Anger/fear transformed into false sense of sexual tension.
Reverse psychology—Author attracted because trying hard not to be. Bad boy/good girl dichotomy creating artificial sense of excitement.
Grace sat back and read over her theories. They looked sound and relieved her of the fear that she might actually like Declan. She’d have to pay close attention to her emotions and physical state to ensure that something innocuous like hunger did not lead her into bed with the man.
She should probably have a baggie of almonds handy at all times: snacking as prophylaxis.
After the long, disturbing dinner talk with Sophia, the two of them had retired to her den, where Sophia had given her a new set of lessons to use in pursuit of Dr. Andrew. They were subtle, intended to reach his subconscious, and seemed free of negative potential. She read back over what she’d written.