How To Get Your Man

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.”

He looked skeptical. “And if I win?”

“I’ll try this seduction thing your way.”

He scoffed. “Sounds like I’m doing the work either way. And you win either way.” He shook his head. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Oh, okay, okay, if you win we’ll do it your way and I’ll create an ad campaign of some sort for you.”

He considered this. “Far as I’m concerned, that’s an even trade, not a winning bet.”

She sighed. He was smarter than the average Tappen guy. Always had been. “So what else do you want?”

He thought for a moment, then a smile curved his lips. “As I recall, you were a pretty good cook.”

She frowned. “And?”

“And I like to eat. So does Elissa.” He tossed a pretzel in the air and caught it in his mouth. “So how about this: add five meals, my call, and you’ve got a deal.”

“And if I win I get two months’ rent free.”

“One.”

“One and a half.”