When Stars Collide (Chicago Stars #9) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,38
turned the wipers to slow speed. “Fair enough. But there’s something between us, and we both know it.” He glanced over at her. “So what’s the real reason you don’t want to take the next logical step?”
She tore her vision away from his profile and shimmied around the truth. “Amazingly, we like each other. We even sort of understand each other. Agree?”
“Agree. And . . . ?”
“I think we need to honor that. Wouldn’t you like having a female friend who’s not jumping you? Somebody you could confide your woman problems to and who could tell you when you’re being a jerk?”
“I already have one of those. Her name’s Piper. Cooper Graham’s wife.”
“But she’s part of your professional world. You need someone outside football you can trust.”
“Considering that I can’t wipe the image of you naked out of my brain, I don’t think it’s realistic to expect we could have that kind of friendship.” He glanced at the driver’s side mirror and pulled into the left lane. “What’s really holding you back? Tell your good buddy, Thad.”
She returned her coffee to the car’s cup holder. “I’ve already told you a lot more about my personal life than you’ve told me about yours. Why is that? Why is it that you want me to spill my secrets when you haven’t revealed anything personal to me?”
“And just like that, you change the subject.”
“Well?”
“I like women. Always have. And before you get offended, I’m not only talking about sex. I spend most of my life with men, and that means lots of sweat, blood, broken bones, and trash talk. Being with a smart woman who smells good and looks good and wants to do something other than play video games and talk about sports is important to me.” He glanced at the speedometer. “I’ve never jumped from woman to woman, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ve probably got a lower number than ninety percent of the men in the NFL.”
“Admirable. I guess.”
He swung back into the right lane. He drove too fast, but he wasn’t a road hog. “I’d describe myself as a serial monogamist. I’ve had some great women in my life, and I only regret a couple of them. Your turn.”
She didn’t have to be honest with him, but she wanted to be. “I’ve learned the hard way. No singers, actors, frustrated artists, or anyone who needs a mother instead of a lover.”
“So far, I’m in the clear.”
She regarded him pointedly. “Also, no ambitious, successful men with well-deserved egos who are as dedicated to their careers as I am to mine and who, as it turns out, have only limited tolerance for a woman who’s their mirror image.” There. She’d said it.
He regarded her warily. “Adam burned you in more ways than one.”
She shrugged. “I don’t do well with needy men or with successful men, either.”
He started to ask her how she defined “successful” and then thought better of it. “It kind of narrows your dating pool.”
“Women like me: our careers come first. We can’t accommodate a romantic partner’s schedule. We’re not always available when a man wants to talk or have sex or needs a shoulder to cry on. We have our own money, and we don’t need theirs.”
“I think you’re underestimating a lot of men.”
“Am I? Men like you are attracted to women like me because we understand you. We understand what drives you. But, ultimately, our lives are as big or bigger than yours, and once the newness wears off, that starts to grate.”
“I’m not buying it.”
She might as well go all the way. “Before the disaster with Adam, I was involved with a prominent architect. A good man. Decent. He thinks of himself as a feminist.”
“And then he turned into a creep.”
“Not at all. He respected my career, but things came up, and I was smitten with him. I skipped a class because his old college friends were in town. Then I was late for a rehearsal because he was getting an award. He had an open slot in his schedule, and we’d talked about taking a vacation together. I was about to turn down a concert when I finally woke up and realized I was losing myself. I made a vow never again to get involved with another alpha type.”
“Which explains Adam.”
“Pathetic, aren’t I? I can’t have a relationship with someone successful because it hurts my career, and I can’t have a relationship with someone who’s struggling because it hurts my career.” She slumped into the