better than to assume and make a fool of herself. “What did you have in mind?” she asked, hoping that was generic enough to be an appropriate and encouraging response to any of several things he might be alluding to.
She wished Leticia Bancroft were here to interpret his body language because Bonnie was lost.
“Well, it’s this paint.” He leaned forward and said conspiratorially, “When Brian asked if I wanted army green, I thought he was joking.” He made a face. “I mean, come on, who would want to look at this color all day? It’s depressing.”
Bonnie couldn’t have been more aware of her own suit at that moment if it had been on fire. “I see…” she hedged.
“So I was thinking maybe I’d just pick something else—anything else, really—and ask maintenance to handle it in the evening. So it’s not so obvious to Brian that I’m changing it so soon.”
She nodded. “So you need someone to pick out paint?”
“Exactly. Paint and accent pieces. Make the place look modern.” He gave another winning grin. “Make me look like a power player.”
Something inside of her softened, despite her embarrassment at being swathed in a color it was now obvious he detested. He hadn’t meant to offend her, of course. He had no idea she wore the color to lure him. And now he was revealing a little bit of good old-fashioned humility and insecurity. That was good. She’d never dated a man who was willing to open up.
“I’d be glad to help you.”
“Really? I’d hate to bother you with this.” He glanced at her suit, perhaps doubtful of her ability to pick colors.
Would he? Was he really just in this for the paint?
“If there’s an administrative assistant who might have more free time…” he went on, giving her a questioning look.
What did that mean?
It only took her a split second to decide it didn’t matter what he meant, because she’d already volunteered to help him and even if he was giving her an out, she’d look like a jerk for taking it.
“Honestly, I don’t mind helping you out. It would be a nice change of pace.”
“Great. Thanks a million.”
“It’s nothing. When do you want to go?” She’d gone one step too far. She knew it as soon as the words left her lips. “I’m free tonight.”
He shook his head. “I can’t make it tonight—”
She shouldn’t have said it. She knew she shouldn’t have said it. Pages twenty-one through twenty-five of the book went on at great length about not pressing the man for a date but letting him make all the moves.
“But if you want to go get some ideas and bring them in tomorrow, that’d be super.”
What could she do? She couldn’t say she was suddenly unavailable. So she nodded. “No problem.”
“Maybe you can show me what you come up with over lunch tomorrow.”
“Sorry, I can’t make lunch tomorrow.” This was really counterintuitive. He was asking her out, that’s what she wanted, so how did it make sense to say no? It didn’t. This was a science, not a game. “How about Wednesday?” she suggested, feeling Leticia Bancroft’s figurative ruler on her knuckles again.
He looked at his desk calendar and made a quick note. “Wednesday it is. I’ve got you down.”
“Wonderful.” She smiled. “I’ll see you on Wednesday then.”
It wasn’t until she left his office and closed the door behind her that she finally thought about what had just happened.
She had a date with Mark Ford. A lunch date, granted, but it was still a date. Technically.
This was progress.
Chapter Two
The key to making a man fall in love with you is making him feel comfortable around you. One of the best ways to achieve this is by a little technique I like to call “mirror breathing.”
Next time you’re together, watch his breathing pattern and match yours to his. When he breathes in, you breathe in. When he breathes out, you breathe out. This sends a subconscious signal to the man that you are on the same frequency and that, thus, you are a safe person to open up to.
The results will amaze you.
—Leticia Bancroft, How To Seduce Your
Dream Man
It was just bad luck to run into Dalton Price at the Tappen Home Center that night.
“The building has approved colors if you’re planning to redecorate, you know.” He nodded at the handful of paint samples she was holding.
“These aren’t for me.” She paused and looked at him. “Approved colors? You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Yup.” They edged toward the long checkout line. “I am. You can paint the whole damn building pink if you want.”
“Gee, thanks. Then you get paid for my work, huh?”
“You always think the worst of me, don’t you, Bon?”
“That doesn’t seem to bother you.”
He grinned. “Nah. I know you’re just fighting an attraction to me.”
With that smile, he could almost be right. But Bonnie had already fought her attraction to him, and won. A long, long time ago.
“So, what are you doing here?” she asked, watching him put a collection of screwdriver bits, some duct tape and a fancy new showerhead on the conveyer belt. “I suppose I shouldn’t dare to hope that’s to fix my shower.”
“Actually—” he handed a platinum credit card to the cashier “—it is.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
He nodded.
“Gosh, the landlord’s getting generous.”
He hesitated, then signed the charge slip and took his bags. “The building’s changing hands. I guess the new owner wants to make a better impression than the last guy.”
“Hm. As long as he doesn’t want to make a lot more money than the last guy, we’ll be all right. And as long as he doesn’t make too many changes.” She’d lived in the old building for five years now, ever since she’d graduated from college and come back to Tappen. She loved the place. Loved its old fixtures, glass doorknobs, carved wooden doors and clanging fire escapes. Sure, everything needed work, but she hoped to heaven the place hadn’t been bought by some up-start who wanted to turn it into one of those generic boxes that were springing up all over the suburbs.
“I don’t think you’ve got to
