“Only that, like most men, you like to be in charge.”
“You mean I’m a control freak.”
“Don’t be offended. The need for power is a man’s number-one craving.”
“What about sex?”
She didn’t take her gaze off the road. “That’s number three.”
“Number three?”
“Oh, men like to believe that sex is number one, because they spend so much time thinking about it, but it’s really number three.”
Folding his arms across his middle, he shifted in his seat so he could stare directly at her. “And number two is?”
“Money.”
He drew a deep breath. “So what you’re saying is that everything a man does, everything I do, is a direct result of my craving for power?”
“Exactly.” Her voice warmed to her theme. “Men join gangs, they make weapons, they wage war. They buy fancy sports cars or big, monster trucks, preferably with stick shifts in them, to prove how macho they are. They do all this, because they need to feel powerful.”
“You’ll notice,” he said, nodding toward the dashboard, “this truck doesn’t have a stick shift.” What he didn’t bother telling her was that this particular model only came with automatic transmission.
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied blithely. “It doesn’t change the symbolism.”
“The symbolism being,” he said with exaggerated patience, “that this truck represents my need for power?”
“Of course.”
Antonio felt the beginnings of a headache. What crazy impulse had deluded him into thinking he could make small talk with her? He had no one to blame but himself. After all, she had been exceedingly “friendly” toward him at the beginning. That friendliness was what had gotten him so bent out of shape. And why? Simply because she wasn’t the type of person he’d hoped she’d be.
He was the one who had blown it by not bothering to disguise what he really thought of her. Obviously, if her continued prickliness around him, and the way she was goading him this very minute, were anything to go by, Ruby was the type who held grudges.
Even though he knew he was being deliberately taunted, he couldn’t let it go. “How does this truck symbolize my need for power?”
“Take its size, for instance.”
“What about it?”
She waved an arm. “Extended cab. A body that stands over six feet off the ground. Nobody traveling behind you, except a guy in an eighteen-wheeler, can see over you. Or around you. Face it, Michael, you’re making a statement with this vehicle.”
If he kept gritting his teeth this way, his dentist was going to make a fortune. “I am?”
“Yes. You’re saying you want to own the road, and everybody else better get out of your way. Driving this truck makes you feel powerful.”
“What about women?” he challenged. “Don’t they crave power?”
“It’s their number-one craving also. But they have to go about getting it more subtly. This is a male-dominated society, you know.”
“How does a woman go about getting power?”
“Pandering to a man’s ego. Dressing nicely for him and maintaining her figure. Letting a man think she’s small and helpless. But mainly through sex.”
“Is that what you’re doing with Joseph?” he asked softly. “Asserting your need for power?”
She didn’t blink. “Of course.”
The thought of her in Joseph Merrill’s arms made him want to smash his fist into something. Preferably Joseph’s jaw.
Antonio decided he’d had enough small talk. It certainly wasn’t getting him anywhere he wanted to go. Reaching into the glove compartment, he brought out a crossword puzzle book and a mechanical pencil. At least these puzzles he could decipher. They didn’t try his patience the way a certain brunette did.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He pulled a lap board out from under the seat and opened the book to a fresh page. Tapping the pencil against the board, he read the first clue.
“Working a crossword puzzle.”
“You like crossword puzzles?”
He filled in the answer before replying. “Yes, I do.”
“I don’t care too much for puzzles.”
He looked over at her. “Why not?”
She shrugged. “Too much work. I’d rather spend my time doing other things.”
“Like your hair and your nails, you mean?” he asked snidely.
“Absolutely,” she agreed.
Silence settled around them once more.
“You wouldn’t happen to know a six-letter word for an igneous rock composed of labradorite and augite, would you?” he asked a few minutes later.
“Gabbro,” she replied immediately, seemingly without thinking.
Antonio sat up straight in his seat. When he glanced over at her, her gaze was focused on the winding road. For a woman who professed not to like crossword puzzles, she knew the answer to a fairly obscure clue. Yet another mystery for him to solve.
“Would you mind spelling that?” he asked carefully.
She did. He checked, and the word fit.
“How did you know that?” he asked.
“I must have seen it on a game show.” There was a sudden cautiousness in her voice.
“A game show?” He didn’t bother to hide his skepticism.
“I just love game shows, don’t you?” she gushed. “Especially the ones where you can win a lot of money.”
“Ah, yes, man’s number-two need,” he drawled.
“Exactly.”
“You have an interesting take on the human condition.”
She looked at him out of the corner of one eye. “What take is that?”
“That every man, and woman for that matter, is solely out for him or herself. Power, money, sex, they’re all that matter. If you don’t look out for number one, no one else will. Let me know, please, if I’m mistaken.”
“No. You’ve summed it up quite nicely.”
“Tell
