LITMIR.BIZ

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an exaggerated opinion of himself.

      “I’m more attracted to early nineteenth century English literature,” she said.

      “The romantic period.”

      “Yes, I suppose you could call it that, though the term usually refers to poetry.”

      “What else would you call the Brontës?” He seemed to realize he was off topic and give himself a mental shake. “But I didn’t come here to discuss mythology or literature.”

      “You came here to learn how to become sensitive in one easy lesson.”

      “I don’t expect it to be easy.”

      “Good. You can begin by not glaring at me. You have to be receptive to the feelings of others, able to interpret the slightest hint of what they may be feeling inside. As long as you’re angry at me, you’re too busy projecting feelings to be able to receive any.”

      “I’m not angry at you.”

      “Look at your facial expression,” she said pointing to a mirror mounted in an ornate gold frame on the wall.

      He was so slow to rise she thought he wasn’t going to move. But once he stood, he moved quickly.

      “What’s wrong with my expression?” he asked.

      “You look like you’re about to chew somebody out.”

      “That’s how I always look.”

      “Then it’s a good place to start. Smile.”

      It was more of a grimace.

      “Like you meant it. Imagine—”

      “I don’t need any help knowing what to imagine.”

      His smile was brilliant, warm, sexy. A mistake. It transformed him into a person she found even more attractive. “Okay, we know you can smile,” she said, turning away from the mirror. “Now let’s see how you sit.”

      He sat on the edge of his chair, leaning forward from the waist as if he were ready to pounce at any moment.

      “Relax. You look like you’re ready to attack the first person who disagrees with you, or so eager to speak you won’t be willing to listen.”

      “I have to convince people they’re making the best decision they can when they accept my offer.”

      “And if they don’t?”

      “I keep after them.”

      “Why?”

      “I can’t stand it when people make stupid decisions.”

      “You can’t be judgmental,” Kathryn said. “There’s no right or wrong with people’s feelings. All feelings are okay.”

      “That’s ridiculous.”

      “What would you say if I told you your feelings for Cynthia and her situation were all wrong?”

      “I’d say you were nuts.”

      “As long as you feel like that, you’ll never be able to understand her or make her care how you feel.”

      “But you don’t want me to tell her what I feel.”

      “She already knows.”

      “Then what’s this sensitivity mumbo jumbo all about?”

      “She needs to feel you’re not angry at her, that you’re not condemning her. Most important of all, she needs to feel you still love her.”

      “Of course I love her. But I’m not going to tell her I’m glad she’s pregnant at sixteen, or that I’m looking forward to meeting the horny kid who’s responsible for this.”

      Kathryn supposed she couldn’t blame him for being upset. “Mr. Egan, you can’t say anything like that to Cynthia.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because it will prove to her you don’t understand her feelings.”

      “I don’t.”

      “Then it’s up to you to change enough so you can.”

      He sat there a moment, apparently thinking of one response after another and rejecting them all.

      “And how do you propose I do that?” he asked finally.

      “You can begin by asking Cynthia how she feels about what’s happening, about the kind of future she wants for her and her baby. You don’t have to agree with what she says, but you have to make her feel you’re not condemning her in any way. And when you do make a decision, she has got to feel you’re putting her wishes ahead of your own.”

      “She’s sixteen. She doesn’t know what’s best for her.”

      “Then you have to be so sensitive to her thoughts, you can guide them without her knowing you’re doing it.”

      “I can’t do that.”

      “Isn’t that what you do in your business, convince people your way is the right way?”

      “I don’t waste time letting them think they’re right in the first place. I knock the props out from under them within ten minutes. I destroy their security so completely they can’t help but look for another way out.”

      “Maybe you should have talked to your wife more.”

      “Erin never asked me to stay home from a meeting or to leave the office early. My success was as important to her as it is to me.”

      Kathryn couldn’t understand any woman feeling that way. “I don’t think it’s important to Cynthia.”

      “Then what is?”

      “You are.”

      “She goes to the best school, we live in a new house in the best part of town and she has four people who are paid to see she has everything she needs. What else can I do for her?”

      “You can stay home more. You can make her feel she’s more important than your work.”

      Ron reacted as though she’d slapped him. “My work has never been as important as Cynthia!”

      “Then why were you in Switzerland?”

      “Because it’s my job.”

      “Are you sure it’s not about making more money, about control rather than making a company more efficient?”

      His lips had thinned to an angry line. “What do you know about business?”

      “Not as much as you do, but my father is a businessman and he’s never home. Not one of his four children believes we or our mother are as important as his work.”

      He looked at her for a long moment. “Okay. Since you feel what I’m doing isn’t working, what do you propose I do?”

      “You could begin by taking a leave of absence from your job. You’ve got enough money to retire right now.”

      “And sit around all day understanding my daughter and some boy I have yet to meet?”

      “That’s a good place to start. Cynthia obviously isn’t as materialistic as you. You need to try to see the world from her viewpoint.”

      “Did you ever ask your father why he worked so hard?”

      “Yes.”

      “What did he say?”

      “For his self-respect.”

      “Did you understand that?”

      “Not really.”

      Ron suddenly seemed charged with energy. “Tell your housekeeper we’ll be gone for a few hours.”

      “I can’t leave.”

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