She looked at me sympathetically. “You really have it bad for him, don’t you? You’ve always felt that way about him.”
“No,” I protested, “I didn’t have feelings for him when he was married. I mean, I admired him and enjoyed working with him, but it was strictly professional. I’d never let myself get interested like that in a married man.”
“For someone who wasn’t interested ‘like that,’ you sure managed to spend a lot of time with him,” she remarked dryly.
“But I had to,” I said. “He was a key part of Mr. Moffatt’s team.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Marge said patronizingly. “But after you saw his wife with Scott, the way you thought about him started to change.”
“How did you know that?” I gasped.
Marge just grinned at me. Then her face grew serious again. “So you thought you had a relationship with Peter, and you hoped it would grow into something special, is that right?”
“I guess so,” I admitted quietly.
She looked at me in silence for a minute. Then she said, “You know, you really are a dumb blonde!”
“Now wait just a minute, Marge,” I said angrily, “you may be a friend but you have no right to speak to me like that!”
She folded her arms and leaned across the table. “I stand by what I said: you’re acting like a dumb blonde. Now be quiet and listen to me for a minute. I think half the people at Magnetadyne know you have a major crush on Peter Hammill. But what have you ever done to let him know that?”
“I’ve done lots of things,” I said indignantly. “I go by to see him every chance I get. I make it a point to have lunch with his team when he eats in the cafeteria. I . . .”
“Isn’t that what you did back when he was married?” Marge asked.
“Well, yes,” I admitted, “but not so often,” I added weakly.
“So how would he know that your feelings have changed if your actions don’t show it?” she asked.
Before I could answer, she demanded, “Have you ever even touched him?”
“No,” I gasped, “I would never do that!”
“I mean touched him on the arm or the hand – anything to make a physical connection with him?”
“I’m sure I have,” I temporized, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall ever having done so.
“You’re afraid to touch men for fear they’ll take it the wrong way, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little,” I admitted.
She continued to gaze at me. Suddenly she asked rhetorically,”You know what’s wrong with you, Jess? The problem is that you’re too beautiful.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Marge cut me off. “All your life you’ve been able to rely on your looks. You didn’t have to worry about finding men, they kept coming out of the woodwork for you. I’ll bet your first husband found you, not the other way around.”
I looked down at the table. “Well, maybe. The first time we met he came up to me at a party in college.”
“And that’s my point: you’ve gotten used to being passive, waiting for the guy to make the first move. If he doesn’t pass the test, you wave him away, then sit back and wait for the next one to show up.”
“But . . .”
“And that’s not all. The fact is you use your beauty as a shield to keep men away, even ones you might actually be interested in.”
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