Conflicting Hearts Read Online Free PDF

sure that I feel like you do.”
    “How do you feel about being thirty?” He leans forward.
    Lonely, pathetic, loser, doomed to die an old maid.
      “Oh, I don’t know. Unsettled, I guess is the
only word I can think of at the moment.” I take a long sip through my straw and
soak up the sugar in the glass.
    “How so?”
    “You mean unsettled?”
    “Yeah. Sounds like you haven’t found what you’re looking for
in life.”
    Well, that’s obvious. Look at the lack of a ring on my
left hand, I think to myself .
    I suddenly wonder why he’s not married. Of course, I’m assuming
he’s not married, because I don’t see a ring, but that doesn’t necessary mean a
hill of beans these days. After all, he’s  thirty-two years old, smoking
hot, and probably has plenty of money. If he’s unattached, maybe he has a
girlfriend or maybe he’s gay. God, I hope I got that wrong , I silently
muse for my sake.
    “Do you have a boyfriend?”
    Whoa! I flinch, wondering if he’s reading my musings over
him. “Nope,” I say, curling my lips in a circle and smacking them together.
    He reaches over and grabs my left hand and thumbs my ring
finger. “Nothing there, so I’m guessing you’re not married either.”
    “Nope.” I take a sip of Coke and look at him. I’m sure he
figured that out this morning. My tongue is twisted and tied at the end, and
I’m back to a one-word conversation.
    “You?” I gulp.
    “Nope,” he answers, smacking his lips, too, sporting a grin.
    We both laugh, and then I realize he’s still holding my
hand. Suddenly, I feel uncomfortable. Very gently, I pull it away and grab my
Coke glass to cool off. I’m scared.
    “You sure you don’t want dinner?”
    He looks over his shoulder into the inviting restaurant. The
aroma of food is tempting. My stomach growls, and I’m afraid he’s heard it. I
cough to cover up the sound.
    “Uh, no, that’s okay. No food.” My mouth is drooling, but I
know it will be a disaster if I agree to dine with him.
    Ian takes a sip of beer and glances around the bar. He
suddenly seems awkward and ill at ease, and I wonder why. Perhaps he thinks my
spurning his dinner invitation means that I’m not interested in him. The way I
feel now, I certainly don’t want to leave that message, especially if he’s
interested in me. Then again, maybe he’s figuring out he’s not that into me. I
wish I’d stop trying to analyze everything. It’s exhausting.
    “So, tell me about your job.” I grin with a bit of
enthusiasm to see if I can bring him back. “Do you like what you do?”
    He returns his gaze and parts his mouth with a small smile.
Once again, he looks into his magic glass of beer for the words. I’m surprised
that I’m sensing a bit of shyness, and it makes me feel more relaxed.
    “Yes, I like it. Hate the time I have to put in, but that’s
law firms.”
    “Do you keep long hours?” I try and sound interested.
    “Yeah, sometimes fifty to sixty a week, maybe more on
important deals.”
    “Gosh, when do you have time to unwind and have a life?”
    “Well, I don’t have much of one right now, but I don’t have
anything else to occupy my time.”
    “Yeah, me either,” I admit.
    “One of these days, I’d like to change jobs and work as an
in-house counsel at a large corporation. Usually, those types of positions are
a little easier on the hours.”
    “Oh, are you looking?”
    “Not seriously.”
    He takes a sip of beer and keeps looking directly into my
eyes. I wonder what’s going on underneath that thick head of hair that I’d love
to run my fingers through. For some reason, I think he’s reading my thoughts
again, when a suggestive smile curls his lips. No, he’s thinking about sex, I
quickly conclude. Men, I inwardly grumble. Every twenty seconds, or is
it every twenty minutes, they’re thinking about screwing someone?
    Of course, I should talk. It’s on my mind constantly. There
are times I think I’m a nymphomaniac, but since I