More Naughty Than Nice. Julie Kistler
be so much fun? Stevie Bliss, apparently. She’s packed humor, moxie and a whole lot of steam into Blissfully Single, so it’s no surprise she’s a powerful package in person. As her assistant puts it, “Stevie bites.” Ouch.
If I doubted that before I saw her in action, I didn’t after. Sure, she had some guys from the Swingin’ He-Men Club stop by to give her a hard time. And the Righteous Moms Brigade, too.
But Ms. Bliss gave ’em all the old heave-ho, knocking out the competition with a few well-timed put-downs and an impressive display of pseudo S&M costuming. All this Leather Lady needs is a whip to really knock the crowd senseless.
Stevie Bliss 14, Chicago 0.
She says she’s not anti-men or anti-marriage.
If that’s what she wants me to believe, I’m not going to fight her on it. She might sizzle me with her dazzling blue eyes. She might walk on me with her spike heels. She might bring out the whip and make me beg for mercy. I’m only a guy, after all. I don’t stand a chance….
“HEY, DASHER, nice column.”
Startled, he glanced up from his computer screen. He’d thought he was alone in the newsroom. “I just sent it, T.J. You read it already? What are you doing here, anyway?”
T.J. was an intern who floated from department to department to fill a hole here or there. The staff reporters had figured out that she was very good at research and background material, and they kept her pretty busy doing grunt work they didn’t want to. “I’m bored. I’m gonna be here late,” she explained, ruffling her cropped orange hair with one hand. “I’m doing a round-up tonight for Sports. Lots of turkey tourneys.”
“So you were just sitting there waiting for me to press Send, huh?”
“We’re the only ones here. And I always like your stuff.” She shrugged. “But I gotta tell you, I was expecting something different.”
“Oh, yeah. Why?”
“When Mike or somebody said you were off to see Stevie Bliss at a bookstore, I thought, whoa, this is going to be good. But you weren’t as snarky as I thought you’d be.” She grinned. “You liked her, didn’t you?”
“Uh, no.”
“You did so,” she teased. “Poor Dasher. Begging for mercy. Who ever thought we’d see Dasher goin’ for the nasty girl? But he is totally smitten.”
“I’m not smitten. I was making fun of her and the crowd’s reaction to her.” Owen concentrated on his computer screen. Surely there was something he needed to edit. “And she wasn’t that nasty.”
“Sure she was. I mean, she is.” T.J. scooted around behind his desk, as if she planned to read over his shoulder. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing. Nasty girls are totally cool. Like Buffy, you know. Or Charlie’s Angels.”
“Isn’t there something else you should be doing?”
“Nope. Just waiting for the Sports phone to ring.”
“Okay. Well, you can wait back in Sports.”
But she stayed where she was, continuing to scrutinize him.
Finally, he asked, “Is there something else?”
“Just curious. ’Cause I’ve read the book. Blissfully Single, I mean.” She scooted closer. “After reading the book and then waiting to see what you said about her, I thought for sure you’d toast her.”
Yeah, well, that was what he’d thought, too.
“You always flame the pop-culture dudes, y’know? So, good for you, for letting one slide.”
He still wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing. But there was something about Stevie Bliss… Something that had more to do with her brain than her ridiculously short skirt or her plunging neckline. Or even that wicked little moan she’d made when his thumb brushed the soft skin of her thigh. If he were a betting man, he’d lay odds she didn’t even know she’d made that noise.
And that was what made it interesting. Everything else about her was so conscious, so planned. Except that noise. Now that was spontaneous.
He wasn’t sorry he’d danced on the edge of impropriety to get her to make that tiny whimper, either. He’d been replaying it on his tape for hours.
Yet there was definitely more to his interest in her than an impromptu moan. It was the potent combination of brains and body, and the curious mix of audacity and innocence. Innocence? He must be mistaken. There was nothing innocent about Stevie Bliss, the leather-clad siren who strode into a room like she owned it, who slept with anyone who took her fancy, who had professional athletes for breakfast and politicians for lunch.
But the expression in her eyes when he touched her, and that amazing little noise…
She was a mystery, that was for sure.
“So, Dasher?” T.J. asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Why did you give her a bye? If you’re not hot for her bod, I mean?”
Not hot for her bod? He was plenty hot. Maybe not admitting he was hot for her bod was more accurate. Or not sharing that fact with T.J., at any rate.
“Some of what she said made sense,” he grumbled. “And I liked how she handled herself on her feet.” He pushed back in his chair, eying the intern. “So you read the book? Did you buy into what she was saying, about playing the field and not getting tied down?”
“Sure. Well, not totally. I’m in no hurry to get married, that’s for sure.” T.J. plunked herself down in a nearby chair and gave herself a spin. “I think the one-month rule—you know, where your boyfriend automatically expires after a month, kind of like old milk?—that strikes me as cold. But it’s a sharp idea if a few high schoolers look at their prom dates and go, hey, maybe I should go to college instead of getting married to this dweeb. Or even more so, chicks hitting twenty-five and getting all weird about not having a ring. Like the ones on… What was that terrible show, with all the women trying to get that one lame dude to marry them?”
“So you don’t think it’s demeaning for women to sleep around without being in love?”
“Demeaning? Who are you trying to kid?” She shrugged. “Men do it all the time. C’mon. Sex should be for fun. That’s all she’s trying to say. It’s only when you try to pretend that love is involved that things get screwed up. So don’t pretend. Let it be what it is and nobody gets hurt. Right?”
“That’s the theory, anyway.”
A phone rang from over in Sports, and she took off to answer. Backpedaling, she called out, “You need anything, you let me know, okay, Dasher? I’d love to work for you.”
“Sure, sure.” As he watched her pick up her phone across the wide newsroom, typing quickly onto her computer, he mused on her reaction. It seemed reasonable, after all, when she framed it like that. Sex is for fun. It’s only when you try to pretend that love is involved that things get screwed up.
But could people—male or female—live that way? Could they really go around, taking whoever caught their fancy, without wanting something more?
It was a puzzle. And so was Stevie Bliss.
His mind replayed their encounter, including the little moan, without even bothering to listen to the tape. Amazing. And it wasn’t just the question of how someone that bold could seem surprised or caught unawares by her own physical response. No, it was more about how she’d gotten to be Stevie Bliss.
Who was she, under all the prepackaged wrappings? Where had this Blissfully Single idea come from? Beautiful women didn’t just wake up one day and decide they were never going to fall in love, never going to get married, without some kind of provocation. What happened to Stevie Bliss?
He certainly didn’t have any answers from their short interview. It rankled that he was really a very good