"What's that?"
Squirming in her seat, Sally considered how to play this. He was too darn observant for his own good.
And her own good.
"It's an email to a friend, which is a perfectly acceptable thing to do during work hours considering the amount of overtime I give you for free. Did I or did I not stay until after midnight two weeks ago to work out a proposal for you that had to go out the next day?"
"But I bought you Chinese food."
"Yes, but no dumplings." He grabbed his chest as if he was in pain and she rolled her eyes at him. "Did you need something?"
"I need to know who you are emailing."
"Why?"
"Because I know you. You wouldn't be this defensive unless you were doing something you didn't want me to know about. Which concerns me because we're more than employer and employee."
The brow above her left eye arched. "We are?"
"We're friends," he clarified. "And as a friend I can say that sometimes when you are left to your own devices you do really stupid things."
Sally squinted her eyes at him as his words sunk in. "Did you just call me stupid?"
"Not stupid, stupid, just that you do stupid things."
"Did you learn nothing from your divorce?"
"That was two years ago. The lessons are beginning to fade."
"Well, let me remind you. Lesson number one: never call a woman stupid."
"Who are you emailing?"
"A friend," she insisted. But she couldn't seem to stop squirming.
"A male friend?"
"Maybe."
"Maybe he's a man?"
"No, maybe he's going to be a friend. A boyfriend." Sally looked up at him and mentally willed him to understand.
"Ahh. I see."
Her shoulders slumped with relief. "You do?"
"No."
Huffing, she clicked open the internet browser, typed in her search and waited. Harry leaned over her shoulder to get a better view. Suddenly a screen outlined in red popped up on her monitor.
"No," he groaned. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."
"I did," she said, lifting her chin slightly in the air.
"You submitted a profile to an internet dating site."
"I did."
"You subjected yourself to every crazed man out there in the WORLD who can't get a date and has to stoop to the internet to get a woman! Are you nuts?"
Instantly, she clicked the window closed. "You are so passé."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"That's supposed to mean that internet dating is now a perfectly acceptable way for single people to connect. In fact it's even more acceptable than meeting in a bar. You submit a photo, you exchange letters, and then when both parties feel comfortable, you meet at a neutral public place. It's safe, if done correctly, and I think it is also a little romantic."
"Romantic? Posting your picture on the internet is romantic? Do you have any idea how many times you might have been downloaded by now?"
"I meant the writing letters part." Sally stuck her tongue at him knowing he was being deliberately difficult. He always got defensive when it came to her dating life – what little dating life she had.
She used to be curious as to why he always seemed to take it so personally any time she extended herself in the dating arena. In the past two years, however, she determined his interest stemmed from jealously. After all his dating life was less exciting than hers.
Not that she hadn't tried to fix him up. But after each fix-up, she'd been subjected to a post mortem that invariably ended up with him complaining that her choice was completely wrong for him and didn't she know him at all, blah, blah, blah.
She'd since stopped trying for him. But that didn't mean she could stop for herself.
Thirty was an ugly word and after another birthday Sally found herself on the wrong side of it. Sure, maybe being thirty-one wasn't ancient, but then there was thirty-two, then after that…forty. Then it was all downhill from there.
Downhill – the same direction her boobs would soon be going.
No, it was now or never. She was engaged in the greatest battle of her life. The search for true love and happiness before the gray hairs, wrinkles, and sagging skin began to dominate a body that had in the recent past been referred to as cute and perky.
No more playing around. No more looking for a nice set of buns. It was time to get down and dirty. That meant singles groups, that meant cooking classes, and that meant the internet.
"His name is Alex. He is an IT Network Director. He's thirty-three, never been married, doesn't smoke, and drinks only occasionally. He likes traveling, long walks, and classical music. Not that I even know why I'm telling you."
"You're serious about this."
"I'm writing him back now," she said smugly. "He thinks I have a witty sense of humor."
"He thinks you're easy."
"He does not!"
"What picture did you send him?"
"The one of us from last year's Christmas party. I cut you out though."
"Now I know he thinks you're easy. You were half drunk in that picture and you walked around all night with a come hither look in your eyes."
Sally stopped her typing and looked up at Harry who was now sitting on the edge of her desk. Pouting. "I do not have a come hither look."
"Hah! You can come hither with the best of them."
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She shook her head. "You're just jealous."
He coughed into this hand. "Jealous! I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous? You think I'm jealous?"
"No, now I think you're having a mental breakdown. Look, Harry, you could be dating too if you weren't so picky. Don't blame me because I've decided to take the bull by the horns."
"Getting a little phallic now, aren't we?"
"Getting a little annoying now, aren't we?"
"I have a report that needs to go out by five," he snapped.
"Fine. Let me just hit send." She clicked the button on her mouse and the email suddenly disappeared into the unknown void of internet space. "There. I'm all yours."
His scowl deepened and she considered trying to fix him up again if he was going to be this grouchy about her possibly finding someone to date.
"I hope you know what you're doing," he muttered as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and stood.
Smiling confidently, Sally assured him. "I always know what I'm doing."
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My March Release, Calculated Risk!
Calculated Risk
March 2005
Silhouette Bombshell™
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