Wedding Party Collection: Always The Bachelor. Barbara Hannay
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She distinctly felt an attack coming on.
Wonderful.
At the very least, taking potshots at her would deflect the attention from Deidre. It would be worth a little humiliation.
“Yes, I am,” Ivy said, unable to keep the defensive lilt from her voice. One corner of Dillon’s mouth quirked up in a very subtle grin, and Ivy raised her chin, bracing for the onslaught of insults. The “shrink” jokes she’d already heard a million times. The “little book” jabs.
She fisted her hands in her lap, digging her nails in the heels of her palms, her foot tapping like mad under the table, steeling herself for the worst.
Bring it on, pal.
“I find it truly fascinating,” Dillon said, and Ivy thought, sure you do.
Dee covered a yawn with fingers tipped in bright pink, clawlike nails, and Dum made a production of looking at her watch. Did they think they were the queens of stimulating conversation?
Dale and Calvin, on the other hand, looked thoroughly amused by the entire situation. Those two were even worse than Dillon. They needed to grow up and get a life.
“Her book has been on the New York Times bestseller list for months,” Deidre said, a note of pride in her voice. “She’s famous.”
Unimpressed, the Tweedles rolled their eyes.
“I’m particularly interested in the study of self-esteem,” Dillon said.
Self-esteem?
Was that some sort of veiled insult? Was he honestly suggesting that Ivy had low self-esteem?
She felt her blood pressure shoot up to a dangerously high level, and her foot was cramping up from the workout it was getting.
She was incredibly comfortable with herself, thank you very much.
“I once read that people with a negative or low self-esteem will insult and belittle other people to boost their own egos.” His expression was serious, but there was a spark of pure mischief in Dillon’s eyes. His gaze strayed briefly to the Tweedles, then back to Ivy. “Is that true?”
It took a full ten seconds for the impact of his words to settle in, and when it did, Ivy was so surprised she nearly laughed out loud.
He wasn’t attacking her. His observations were aimed directly at the twins.
“That is true,” she told him, in her therapist’s, I’m-not-speaking-of-anyone-in-particular-just-stating-the-scientific-evidence tone.
Dale and Calvin weren’t looking so cocky now, and a grateful smile had begun to creep over Deidre’s face.
The Tweedles were a bit slower to catch on.
Ivy watched with guilty pleasure as the two of them digested his words with brains no doubt impaired by bleach overexposure. She relished the look of stunned indignation on their faces when the meaning hit home.
She had never been an advocate of “an eye for an eye” and preferred not to lower herself to the Tweedles’ level, but it felt damned good to knock those two down a peg.
“In fact,” she continued, “self-esteem is one of the most widely studied areas of psychology.”
“Why is that?” Dillon asked, feeding the flames, while the Tweedles grew increasingly uncomfortable.
Her conscience told her that what she was about to do was childish and just plain mean, but she couldn’t deny the satisfaction she felt watching the Tweedles squirm. And who knows, May be her words would strike some sort of chord, and they would think of other people’s feelings for a change.
Should she or shouldn’t she?
Oh, what the hell.
“Because self-esteem plays a role in virtually everything we do,” she explained. “A lack of it can have dire effects. People who are unsure of themselves sometimes have trouble sustaining healthy relationships. Since they often feel embarrassed and ashamed without due cause, their irrational reactions tend to baffle and alienate others.”
“That is fascinating,” Deidre agreed, casting a grin Ivy’s way.
On a roll now, Ivy added, “Even worse, low self-esteem can cause or contribute to neurosis, anxiety, defensiveness, eating disorders and even alcohol and drug abuse.”
“How tragic,” Dillon said, looking pointedly to Blake’s brothers. “Don’t you think?”
Dale and Calvin exchanged an uneasy look, but neither uttered a sound. It was clear they were of the collective opinion that they shouldn’t mess with the billionaire oil man.
The balance of power had just been established. At least for once Dillon had used that clout and influence for someone’s benefit other than his own.
She would have to thank him later.
“Well, I think I’ll take a walk on the beach before it gets dark,” Dillon said, rising to his feet, and with his eyes on Ivy asked, “Anyone care to join me?”
As if. She wasn’t that grateful.
“I will!” Deidre said, popping up from her chair with such enthusiasm that she bumped the table and sent her champagne glass teetering precariously. Blake grabbed it before it could topple over and shatter against the glass-top table. It was a nice save and, if Deidre’s doe-eyed smile was any indication, might just compensate for his letting her down earlier.
Blake stood, brushing remnants of his dinner from the front of his clothes. Clothes that hung on his narrow, gangly frame. No matter how well he dressed, he always looked a tad…untidy. “I’ll come, too.”
“We’re going into town to hit the bars,” Dale said, answering for that side of the table. All four of them looked as though they could use a stiff drink. Or May be five. Hopefully, in the future they would take the time to think about what they were saying before they opened their mouths, and realize there were certain people you just didn’t mess with. Not without getting burned.
Ivy rose from her chair. “I’m going to head up to my room. I have to check my e-mail.”
“But you promised no work this week,” Deidre said with a pout.
“I know, but I’m expecting a message from my editor,” she lied. The truth was, she’d told her editor, agent and writing partner that this week had been reserved strictly for relaxation.
What a joke. There would be nothing relaxing about this week. She would be lucky if she didn’t return to Texas a certified Froot Loop in need of intensive psychotherapy.
Deidre clutched Ivy’s hand in a death grip. “Come with us. Please.”
Ivy knew what she was trying to do, and it wasn’t going to work. She wanted Ivy to forgive Dillon. To “get past it,” whatever “it” was.
Yes, Dillon had done something nice, shown that he had an unselfish side, but it didn’t excuse the way he’d taunted her all evening. It also didn’t change the fact that he would most likely continue to taunt and harass her until she boarded the plane Sunday morning.
She pried her hand free. “Next time. I promise.”
Deidre looked as if she wanted to press the issue but let it drop.
Everyone went their separate ways, and Ivy headed upstairs, feeling uneasy and not quite sure why. Something weird had just happened down there. Something disturbing that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She stepped into her room, closed the door and leaned against it.
A disaster had been diverted, thanks to Dillon. She would go so far as to say the entire situation, while childish and petty, had actually been fun—
Wait a minute. Fun? With Dillon?
The truth