Page 17 of Breaking the Ice

Samantha filled him in, not even realizing that she’d relaxed the tight clench of her muscles as she unburdened the whole sorry tale.

“Gary’s an idiot.”

She opened her eyes, her gaze meeting his. “Unfortunately, Gary is the tip of the iceberg.”

“There’s a pattern?”

“Oh, yes.” Her back felt like it was on fire and she shut her eyes to try and block it out. “Bec says I have appalling taste in men.”

“You do, huh?”

He sounded close but the action of keeping her lids squeezed tight was giving her a focus she didn’t want to interrupt. “I’ve been a little too busy building my career to take too much notice of men. So I’ve made some bad choices. I tend to go for men my age or younger, arty types.”

“That sounds okay?” he murmured.

His deep voice was soothing and Samantha temporarily forgot her focus as she lifted half an eyelid to find a smile playing on his mouth. She couldn’t help but return it.

“No. They were commitment-phobes. Which was fine because until recently I hadn’t really wanted more.”

“You’ve been setting your sights too low.”

It came out as a rumbly growl which undulated down her spine. “That’s a sweet thing to say Nick but trust me, I don’t. I set my sights at what I can achieve. I mean look at me –ow!”

“Sorry,” muttered Reg.

Samantha gritted her teeth, closed her eyes and gripped Nick harder until the hot spike of pain dissipated. “Let’s face it. I’m average. And if average women know one thing, it’s not to get above themselves.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

She grunted but she liked that he was clearly askance at her statement. “Tell that to generations of average women who’ve ever dared to look outside their boundaries and had some Adonis squash their self-esteem to a pulp.”

“I can’t believe this crap goes on in your head,” he muttered.

“No. It’s okay.” She flicked her eyes open. “We still have a reasonable selection available to us but men who look like—”You. She almost said,you.But his eyes met hers and she chickened out. “Like Greek statues or male models or movie stars are just out of our league.”

“That is the screwiest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Of course he would think that. He was a man. A hot pro-hockey player man. He’d been drooled over his entire adult life.

“Well, anyway.” There wasn’t enough time to explain decades of diet culture and beauty industry indoctrination. “I’ve had a lot of time on my hands these last few weeks to really think about my situation and I’ve decided that my eggs aren’t going to be happy until a little multiplication is happening so I need to be looking at an entirely different demographic of men. And now that my stressy job isn’t an issue for a while, it’s the perfect time to do something about it.”

He blinked, clearly confused at this twist. “Your eggs?”

“Yes Nick, my eggs. My clock is ticking. My eggs are dying.”

“You’rethirty.”

“Oprah says eggs start dying at twenty-seven.” There was one advantage to being unemployed – daytime television reruns. “I have three years of dead eggs inside me, Nick. And the rest are getting old, past their use-by date.”

“What about your plans to get back to your high-powered job? How are you going to manage both?”

“I’m a woman. We multi-task. I can have the baby, take a few weeks off work and then it can go straight into childcare. I’ve worked it all out.”

“Just like that?”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “Yes. Haven’t you heard? Women can have it all these days.”

“You haven’t had much to do with babies, have you?”

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