How To Get Your Man. Elizabeth Harbison

      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 worry,” Dalton said as they stepped into the crisp evening air outside the Home Center.

      She shrugged. “I hope not.”

      He indicated a beat-up Toyota parked in front of the store. “So, you want a ride back?”

      “No, thanks, I can use the walk.”

      “Eight blocks? With your arms full like that? Come on, Bon. It’s cold out here.”

      A cold front had moved in, and it was crisp, even for November. “Don’t worry about me.” She opened her purse to stuff the paint samples in but lost her grip on the strap and the whole thing dropped to the ground.

      How To Seduce Your Dream Man was, of course, the first thing to plunk out onto the sidewalk.

      “Let me help you.” Dalton bent down to help gather the things that had spilled.

      “No—”

      But it was too late. He took the book in hand and stood up.

      “How to seduce your dream man?” He looked at the book, then at Bonnie, incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

      Her cheeks flamed. “It’s not mine. It’s for a campaign I’m working on.” She snatched the book away from him and shoved it into her purse, not caring what she bent, broke or shattered in doing so, just as long as it was out of sight.

      “A campaign.”

      “Yes. For a very important client.”

      “Hm.” He went to his car and opened the back door, saying over his shoulder, “Hell, I could tell you a hundred ways to get a guy right now. For the sake of your client, I mean.”

      “Like…?”

      He put his bags on the seat, shut the door and came back to her. “Like stop dressing like an old lady.”

      “Me?”

      He moved fractionally closer and she felt his warmth move into her space. “Yeah, you.” He reached over to undo her top two buttons. His fingertips brushed against her skin, leaving a small trail of tingles after his touch.

      Her breath caught in her throat and for just a split second she felt like a blushing teenager.

      She stepped back. “Keep your hands off me!”

      He gave a laugh. “You’ve been saying that since high school. Loosen up a little.”

      She swallowed hard, still reeling from her reaction to his touch more than his impertinence. “You’ve been saying that since high school.”

      He gave a rakish grin. “But I meant something different back then. Back then I was just trying to help me. Now I’m trying to help you.”

      “I think you even said that in high school.”

      He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Man, if I’d known you were actually listening to what I was saying, I would have been a lot more careful.”

      “You probably should have been anyway.” She wondered if he remembered the one single night they’d spent together as well as she did. She wondered if he knew it had been her first time and that when he hadn’t called her back, it had made her feel cheap and tawdry.

      “I’m going,” she said, taking a step away. “See you later.”

      He watched her for a moment, frowning. “What did I say?”

      “Nothing.” She wasn’t about to admit she was still holding on to a hurt that he’d inflicted eleven years ago. “I just want to get walking.”

      “Bon—” He came up behind her and took her by the arm, turning her to face him. “What’s wrong?” His face was serious, still. Handsome in the twilight.

      “Dalton, nothing’s wrong. Can’t a girl get some exercise if she wants to? It’s a nice night, I just want to walk.”

      He studied her for a moment and she stood still under his scrutiny. “If that’s all it is.”

      “That’s all it is,” she assured him.

      “Because I didn’t mean to say anything that would hurt you.”

      It wouldn’t be fair to make the man pay for a mistake the boy had made so long ago. She gave a smile. “Careful, Dalton. Someone might think you care.”

      His blue eyes narrowed, tweaking laugh lines she hadn’t noticed for a long time. “Does someone actually think I don’t?”

      Her throat went tight. So did her chest. That he could elicit this kind of response from her troubled her more than anything else. “Don’t go soft on me.”

      He shook his head, a smile denting his cheek. “I’d never do that.”

      Well, she’d set herself up for that one. “Go home, Dalton.” She turned and