The Blonde Theory by Kristin Harmel

Author:Kristin Harmel [HARMEL, KRISTIN]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780759517684
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2007-02-22T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

On my cab ride back to the office that afternoon, with Jill’s Rules swirling through my head, I had a new thought about The Blonde Theory. What if it wasn’t really about me anyhow? What if it wasn’t that I actually intimidated guys? What if it was that they were so insecure to begin with, they were scared to date women who were smart enough to potentially see beneath their thin layers of power and prestige?

I thought about it all the way back to my office and was still deep in thought as I glided past my secretary, Molly, and sat down at my desk. Maybe these men knew deep down that they were complete duds and relied on the stupidest women they could find to build up their egos anyhow. In any case, these realizations weren’t exactly helping me. I was no closer to discovering the secrets of successful dating than I had been a week ago. If anything, I was feeling more discouraged, especially after my little talk with Alec.

I was just mulling over that thought when Molly burst into my office, looking nervous, her eyes wide behind her thick glasses.

“Um, Ms. Roberts?” she asked, pushing her short brown hair distractedly behind her ears.

I cocked an eyebrow at her and tried to relax her with a smile. “Molly,” I said, “I’ve told you a hundred times to call me Harper, not Ms. Roberts.”

She was a fantastic secretary; don’t get me wrong. There was just something about the doe-eyed twenty-five-year-old who filed my papers and booked my appointments calling me “Ms. Roberts” that made me feel about twenty years older than I was. After all, she wasn’t that much younger than me. And after a year and a half as my secretary—and more than a hundred corrections from me each time she said “Ms. Roberts”—it seemed high time that she started addressing me by my first name.

“I’m sorry, Ms...Harper,” she stammered.

“Don’t worry, Molly,” I said soothingly. “Everything okay?”

“Um, yes,” she said. “But you have someone waiting downstairs in the lobby to see you. He’s not in your appointment book, though, so I didn’t know whether you wanted me to have reception send him up or not.”

I checked my watch and frowned. I didn’t have an appointment until four o’oclock, and it was only two. This wasn’t exactly a business where people did drop-bys, either. I was on the thirty-fourth floor of a Wall Street office building; it wasn’t like my office was just a Midtown storefront where people with random ideas they wanted patents for could stream in and out.

“Molly, I don’t think we had anything scheduled until later in the afternoon,” I said finally. “Right?” I certainly hoped not; I had a ton of paperwork to do for a few clients whom I’d met with last week.

“No,” she said hesitantly. “But the man downstairs insists you should be expecting him. I told him that he wasn’t on your schedule, but he asked me to come in and check with you.

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