Elizabeth Harbison - How To Get Your Man

“I’ll say,” a familiar voice said from behind her. “She knows how to make money off of desperate women.”

Paula stifled a laugh and Bonnie turned around. “Dalton. How nice to see you again.”

He signaled the bartender for a beer and said to Bonnie, “So that book was for a client, huh?”

Her face warmed. “One of my favorites.”

He smiled. “Mine, too. Come on, Bon. You like a guy, he likes you, what’s the problem? Be yourself. Why use tricks?”

“Because the guy doesn’t know she exists,” Paula interjected.

Bonnie shot her a look before turning back to Dalton. “Maybe not, but he will soon.”

“If a guy doesn’t know you exist, he’s got to be blind.” Dalton took the beer the bartender handed him, sloshing some over the side and onto the scarred wooden bar top.

Bonnie flushed at his compliment. Why did he affect her this way? This was Dalton Price, for crying out loud. “From your lips—”

“Speaking of lips,” he said, pulling up a bar stool and sitting uncomfortably close to her. “What’s with the red lipstick?”

Red lips remind men, on a primal level, of the fruit of your sex, ripe for the picking.—Leticia Bancroft.

“Nothing,” Bonnie said.

“In the book, huh?”

She didn’t answer.

A drunk swaggered up and asked Paula to dance. She accepted and bounced out to the dance floor, leaving Dalton and Bonnie alone.

“Look, I need to talk to you about something else,” Dalton said, dragging the basket of pretzels closer to him. “I need a favor.”

“Did you fix my shower?”

“I did.”

She smiled. “Okay, shoot.”

“You know how I told you the building had a new owner?”

She nodded.

“Yeah, well, it’s me.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You? You bought the building?” She thought of Elissa, and her future security, and felt a warm ember of pride in her chest.

“You don’t need to sound so surprised. It wasn’t like I just wanted to clean it up for someone else for the rest of my life. I was checking the place out.”

“But how did you swing it? That place must have cost a fortune!”

He looked a little taken aback. “I’ve got some resources.”

Bonnie could have kicked herself. She really needed to be more careful and think before speaking. “Of course you do, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever. Here’s the thing. I want to fix the place up and get some advertising going. We only have sixty percent occupancy at the moment.”

“I kind of like the emptiness.”

He shook his head. “Much as I’d like to please you, I’d prefer to have more renters.”

“Of course,” she acknowledged. “But what can I do? I’m no Realtor.”

“You’re in advertising. You’re surrounded by people who spend their lives making things look appealing to the public.”

She was glad he didn’t add a codicil about the exception of herself in drab green clothes and red lipstick. “True. But real estate…” She shook her head. “If you wanted to sell toothpaste, I’m a pro.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Meantime, can you recommend someone who might want to take on some freelance ad work?”

So he wasn’t even asking her to do it? “Someone else? Not me?”

He drank some beer and swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Is that what you thought? I was asking you to do it?”

She took a pretzel from the basket in front of him. “What are you saying, you don’t trust me to do it?”

“You just said you can only sell toothpaste.”

“I didn’t say I could only sell toothpaste. All I meant was, yours is a different job than I’m used to doing.”

He shrugged. “And you don’t feel capable of handling it on your own. I get that.”

“Hey, it’s not rocket science. I think I could handle it.”

“Yeah? Hey, thanks for offering.” He gave a broad smile. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Once again, Dalton had steered the conversation to his benefit. “Wait a minute, I didn’t mean—” She couldn’t give him this. “What’s in it for me?”

“I could pay you, of course. Or—” he smiled “—we could barter.”

“Barter?”

He nodded. “I help you get your guy.”

Her face went hot. It felt like far too many people knew about her quest for—and inability to get—Mark Ford. “Seriously, Dalton.”

“I am serious. Money has a finite value, but the wisdom of experience…” He tapped his temple with his index finger. “Priceless. I can unlock the secrets of seduction for you.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “I’m not interested in hands-on training, you know.”

“There’s no better way to learn.”

She scoffed and started to turn away. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

He stopped her. “But first things first. You need the basics.”

“Now you’re saying I don’t even have the basics?”

“Oh, you’ve got ’em all right. You’re just not using them. You’re going about this all wrong.”

“Meaning…?”

“The lipstick, the ugly clothes. Forget it. If you really want this undeserving slob, I can help you get him.” He shrugged. “Or I could pay you and you could go out and burn more bucks on bad advice. Whatever you want.”

She wanted Mark. And she had to admit that the Bancroft method wasn’t really going all that well.

But what if Dalton was wrong, too? He knew how to get women, God knew, but that didn’t automatically mean he knew how women could get men. Men like him, maybe, but a guy like Mark Ford? Maybe she was better off sticking with the advice of an expert like Leticia Bancroft.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

Dalton raked a hand through his wavy dark hair. His eyes were bright with amusement. “You don’t think I can help you.”

“What?”

He’d always, always, always been able to read her.

It drove her absolutely nuts.

“I wasn’t born with blue blood so you don’t think I can help you get some guy who was.”

She did think that. “No, I don’t.”

He laughed outright. “Sure you do. You also think you have to be Miss Park Avenue 2005 in order to snag a guy who’s gainfully employed in midtown, which would explain your recent change of wardrobe.” He looked her up and down. “This guy work in your building?”

“That doesn’t make any difference.”

“So he does. I knew it. I bet he went to one of those fancy Ivy League schools too, right?”

After a moment of contemplating denial, she nodded.

“That’s why you’ve got this preppy look going on. You believe you need to look like the girls he’s been around all his life. And like everything you believe, you’re going to have a hell of a time letting go of that idea.”

“See, this is exactly why you can’t help me,” Bonnie said, trying to deflect some of the attention from herself and how right he was about her. “You always think you know better than I do.”

“I usually do.”

“Not this time.”

“Okay.” He gave a broad shrug. “Do it your way. This should be fun. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next. Vanilla perfume to make him think of Mom? Feathers in your hair to make him feel free?” He downed his beer and started to walk away.

Studies show that men react to the scents of vanilla and pumpkin pie. Try to incorporate those scents subtly into your environment, to make him relax.—Leticia Bancroft.

“Wait,” Bonnie called.

He stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

“Are you a betting man?”

He gave a lazy smile and leaned against the bar. “What do you have in mind?”

She nodded toward the pool tables. “One game. If I win, I get—” she considered “—one month’s rent free.”