"I don't care if people smoke, but I wish they'd respect the fact that I don't want to smoke. If they can figure a way to smoke without getting it in my eyes and lungs, they can smoke themselves to death for all I care."
"Maybe you should have told him that. I'm sure he would have found it more amusing than the look on your face."
She stared at him. "Was it that obvious?"
"It was to me, but..." He shrugged and turned his palms up. "Who cares? It certainly didn't stop him from puffing away."
She made a face. "I know. I think the smoke bothered Mr. Louden too. It seems counterproductive to have people like that representing us. How can he establish authenticity selling health products while he's smoking those things?" She fanned the air with her hand. "Look at this room."
Mr. O'Hara glanced around the hazy room and quirked a silver brow. "Looks like you've got an open window somewhere."
Today she was in no mood to enjoy his offbeat brand of humor. When she shot him a warning glance he chuckled.
"Henry is a good salesman and you know it. I've never seen you carry on so much about someone smoking. Has he done something else to upset you?"
"Of course not." Her answer came swift and positive. The last thing she wanted to do was get Henry into trouble with his boss. She might derive some pleasure out of seeing him squirm under the thumb of one of his victims, but he was a good salesman and he deserved credit for that much. In any case, even if Henry had offended her personally, she wouldn't have run to Daddy about it.
She sighed. "You're right. I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. I don't know what's gotten into me lately."
Mr. O'Hara stooped and removed the copper ashtray from the trashcan. "I'll put this on the table outside your door. Maybe he'll take the hint next time." He winked. "In the meantime, you'd better calm down. If you let such minor things upset you, you'll have a stroke before you reach twenty-five."
He was joking, of course. Tonight her parents were throwing her a twenty-fifth birthday party. She let out a long breath and slumped in her chair. Tonight she would tell him. She couldn't hide it much longer anyway. Even now he probably suspected.
Mr. O'Hara slid a leg over the corner of her desk and folded his arms across his chest. "Now, tell me what's really bothering you. Are you getting cold feet?"
She straightened in her chair, her face growing warm. "No...well, yes...in a way."