Now was the perfect opportunity to get it off her chest, and yet, all she could do was stutter.
He leaned forward and patted her shoulder. "Don't worry. Everybody gets a little nervous as the wedding date approaches. Marriage is a big step. Which reminds me; have you set a date yet?"
She absently plucked at a thread on the hem of her skirt, avoiding his eager gaze.
"Not yet."
"What's he waiting for?"
She glanced up and tried to look determined. "What's the rush?"
For a moment he held her gaze, his expression unreadable. Finally he slid his leg off the desk and resumed the pacing; his hands shoved deep into his pockets. After a few moments of silence, he stopped and stared at her again.
"You seem...restless lately."
Restless was exactly the way she felt. Again he had the door open, waiting for her to confess. Again she sidestepped that issue and lunged into another.
"I'm twenty-five years old and you're still fussing over me. I feel like I've been on my first solo flight for the last three years, but I can't seem to get my wheels off the runway."
He grimaced. "That again? You earned this job. I didn't hand it to you because you're my daughter. You're the best advertising executive this company has ever had. Have a little faith in yourself."
The diversion was successful, but the new subject was almost as sensitive. Lately she had been wondering if she could have landed such a job without his help. His secretary had certainly been acting like she hadn't thought so. She shook her head.
"Tell Clarissa that."
His expression became stern. "I've told Clarissa. She doesn't seem to be as concerned about the idea as you are. I think you're imagining things."
It was pointless to argue the matter. Maybe it was merely a personality conflict with his secretary. Regardless, Clarissa's sugar coated barbs hit their mark all too often. Of course, Clarissa was careful about what she said in front of the boss. Mr. O'Hara wouldn't tolerate discord in the office.
She shrugged. "Maybe you're right. I shouldn't blame my rebellious moods on other people. I need to get my act together and take charge of my life."
Mr. O'Hara sighed and nodded. "What you need is a husband. Once you're married..."
His remark punctured a hole in her thin armor and she exploded, slamming the papers onto her desktop so hard that one of the pages floated to the floor.
"Why?" she snarled. "To provide you with an heir...or to keep me in line?"
His expression never changed. He stooped and retrieved the page, carefully placing it on top of the stack before he met her gaze. Probably counting to ten...something she should have tried. When he finally spoke, his voice was controlled.