18
Signing a truce. August 1971
If anything, Connor O’Hannigan learned a lesson in his dealings with Emilee: it was wiser not to mess with a she-lion. He had to be more cautious, bide his time, make her wonder about his intentions.
He stayed away. Applying such self-control was hard. He could not recall when last he had met someone, a woman, who intrigued him, who would challenge him so relentlessly. She cared. Why else did she cycle all the way to the factory floor in the rain? She didn’t slap him when he kissed her the second time. He would show her, prove to her, that he could do unpredictable. He could be less broomstick-in-the-behind, be less obsessive about his car and his possessions.
Who are you bluffing, O’Hannigan?
By August the first, he found it impossible to postpone any
