How To Get Your Man. Elizabeth Harbison

      “Not that, this.” She gestured between the two of them. “You and me doing this. Or, rather, me doing this.” She walked over to the bed and plopped down on the side of it, next to him. “Maybe I don’t want a guy I have to do this for.”

      Dalton watched her and nodded. “Maybe you don’t want the guy you have to dress like an army man for either.”

      She gave a dry laugh. “Well, Mark Ford isn’t a guy I have to dress like that for. He hated it.”

      Even though he’d never met him, Dalton wasn’t feeling too lenient toward Mark Ford. “A guy should accept you for who you are.”

      She gave him a dry look. “So says the guy who’s telling me to unbutton my shirt and hike up my skirt.”

      “Hey, we did not talk about the worthiness of the guy you wanted to attract. Our deal was not to help you find the man of your dreams, whoever that might be, it was to help you get one guy, the one who doesn’t know you exist.” He shook his head. “I never said it would be worth it.”

      She sighed and dropped her head into her hands. “But he would be worth it.” She stood up, pulled her skirt slightly lower, and gave a firm nod. “He would be worth it.”

      “If you say so.”

      “You sound skeptical.”

      “Me? I’m always skeptical.”

      She eyed him for a moment, then said, “Okay.”

      “Let’s go. You don’t want to be late. We can talk about dinner in the car.”

      “Dinner?”

      They started down the steps. “The dinner you’re going to make for me tonight.”

      “Tonight?”

      He didn’t break his stride. “We made a deal.”

      “I know, but I figured you’d at least give me some notice.”

      “I am. Ten hours of it.” He stopped at the front door and turned to look at her. “You got better plans tonight?”

      She rolled her eyes. “No, but I hope to.”

      “I’m telling you, if he asks you out, you have to be unavailable.” He opened the door and ushered her out, then followed. “And you have to make me spaghetti and meatballs.”

      She stopped again and looked back at him, impatience etched into her features. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”

      He shrugged. “My kid loves the stuff.”

      “I see. Well, in that case, I’ll make it. For Elissa’s sake.” She walked toward his car and he smiled, watching the unintentional sway of her hips.

      She was always at her best when she was completely unaware of her allure.

      How could he teach her that?

      By the time they were in the car, Dalton was starting to think maybe it wasn’t right for him to be teaching Bonnie anything about winning over a man. Because men were pretty much jerks. Especially this guy if he’d somehow managed to miss or ignore Bonnie’s attentions.

      Dalton had been a jerk himself in his former life, he was willing to admit that, but now he could see that Bonnie was compromising herself in ways that clearly weren’t comfortable for her. For a guy who couldn’t possibly be worth that kind of sacrifice. Part of Dalton thought maybe he shouldn’t be assisting her with that.

      Then again, she was a grown woman. She could take care of herself. In fact, given the barbs she’d been throwing at him for the past twenty years or so, she’d always been more than able to take care of herself.

      Plus, Dalton had never really known her to compromise her values. Not when it came down to it. Like in seventh grade when she refused—flat out refused—to dissect a frog in Mrs. Rhodes’s science class, she’d told the teacher in front of God and everyone that she was willing to take a failing grade rather than give in and dissect.

      And in the end, she’d gotten her way.

      But she’d missed out on one of the coolest science projects they did in all of junior high.

      Maybe all he had to do was help her win over this unworthy creep, so she could see for herself that it wasn’t what she wanted.

      “We’ve got fifteen minutes,” Bonnie said, bringing him out of his thoughts. “There’s no way you’re going to get me to work on time.”

      “I’ll get you there.”

      “I don’t know about that.” She clucked her tongue against her teeth. “Look at this traffic!”

      “I’ve dealt with worse,” he said, smoothly steering the old Toyota around a cab. He ignored the subsequent blaring horns and the alarmed look on Bonnie’s face.

      She checked the connection of her seat belt.

      Dalton held back a laugh.

      “Not funny, Dalton. If I wet my pants from fear, I don’t think it’s going to be too sexy.”

      “Not to the right kind of guy,” he agreed, letting up on the gas.