How to Win a Guy in 10 Dates

There you go. Point made. One more flip of her stomach as she took in those long legs, and the chiseled perfection of his cheekbones in the last of the daylight. Unusually, she didn’t correct herself. For one night only, given she had a head injury, she would let her mental tongue hang out.

Now he’d lost the bad temper, if you overlooked his gloriously decorative side, there was something reassuringly basic and normal about this guy, sitting in his stripped out barn. It was going to be years before she had consolidated her independence enough to consider hooking up with anyone again, but when she did, she hoped it could be with someone like this. Someone hard working. Honest. As far away from trust-fund-on-a-plate Josh, and his rich-boy throw-away morals as she could get.

‘Another beer? Hot chocolate? Ibuprofen?’ Ed was at the fridge now, waggling a bottle. Smart black fridge too. She liked that. A bit like the one back home at her parents’ place in London. Expensive, then. Good to see he’d got his chilled-beer priorities right.

‘No thanks to all of those, I’m good.’ Another escaping grin.

And thinking of home, she knew her family would blow a fuse when she chose to settle down with someone ordinary, so lucky it was a long way off then. Hopefully by that time she’d have proved she was capable of living without the intervention of their wealth, and was capable of making her own decisions, her own mistakes. She’d been independent of them for almost a year now, and although at times it had been tough, she knew that was how she had to play it. She had to be her own person.

‘I’ve a lot to do here; I’ll be busy for the next few hours at least.’ He screwed the top off his beer as he walked back to the table and took a swig. Exposed his beautiful, kissable throat. Again. ‘Settle down whenever you want. I’ll leave the candles to burn. They should last beyond dawn.’

A shame he’d dismissed her so firmly. She’d have liked to know why a guy who appeared from the quarry in ripped jeans had so many hours of lap-top work to do. Costing out the building work perhaps? Too late to ask. She’d probably never find out now.

Pulling the quilt up under her chin, she felt a pang of disappointment that she’d dashed to sponge the blood out of her scalp, rush on some make-up, and pile up her hair, and he’d still shown no sign of noticing she existed. Not that she’d wanted him to. But as she closed her eyes to sleep, a tiny part of her was hoping she’d have the same dream as this morning. Okay, come clean. A large part. How ridiculous was that?

That when she woke up, it would be to find him giving her the second snog of her life.

***

Millie was woken at the crack of dawn, not by Ed snogging her socks off sadly, but by Ed shaking her shoulder, and bellowing in her ear.

‘It’s six thirty! The builders are on their way. I need to get you home.’

Less of the chocolate, more of the fog-horn voice this morning.

She groaned, dragged her fingers through her hair, and groaned again. ‘Sorry – I’m not a daybreak person!’

‘I gathered that already. Well done anyway. You’ve survived your twelve hours of surveillance, and now it’s time to go!’ He was sounding disgustingly awake, standing by the door, laptop in one hand, take-away rubbish and empties in a carrier in the other. ‘Whenever you’re ready … ’

Twenty minutes later, she was unceremoniously ejected from the Land Rover outside her front door, and he’d driven off in a cloud of dust before she even had time to thank him.

***

There was definitely something to be said for a dawn start. By nine, Millie had caught up on most of what she’d missed yesterday, and was about to head for a shower when she heard the sound of hooves on gravel, and caught the un-mistakable neigh of Cracker the pony, on his way home.

Blast. She’d been hoping to make herself presentable, and then go up to the quarry to collect Cracker herself. Not that she wanted to attract the attention of anyone special, obviously, but simply to prove she wasn’t always mud-streaked and bloodied, although seeing Cracker dragging Ed headlong into the yard more than made up for that disappointment.

‘One mad pony and you’re more than welcome to him after what he’s just put me through.’ Ed threw the reins at her, then delved into a pocket, and flipped out her missing phone. Same jeans, same shirt, same glorious body. But this time the thunderous brows lifted as his face split into a self-deprecating grin. He followed at a safe distance as she led the suddenly compliant pony towards his stable. ‘Busy morning?’

She gave a ‘whatever’ shrug, tried to stop her head spinning from the heat of him. ‘Sorted out a dance sequence for a private lesson this afternoon at the Country Club, though who knows why anyone would want to dance to Santa Baby, in July.’ Accidentally-on-purpose forgetting to mention the ‘B-for-burlesque’ word. ‘Packed up an order of my boxes to send to London, so now Cracker’s home safely, I’ll head out to the post office.’

His gaze honed in on her mucking-out shorts.

‘After a shower, obviously.’ And she thought he hadn’t noticed her! How bad did she look? ‘Thanks for last night, by the way. You saved my life twice yesterday.’ She smiled, dipping as far behind her dangling hair as she could, as the thought of the snog made her cheeks whoosh scarlet. ‘Anything I can do in return, just let me know.’

A last throwaway comment, meant politely, not needing a reply.

‘You’re welcome. All in a day’s work for a Super-hero.’ Inscrutable. No trace of embarrassment, at all. ‘And there is something, something you can do, that is … ’

‘Yes?’ She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes, her heart belting her chest wall as she waited.

‘Come out with me tonight.’ Just like that. Cool as a chilled beer. Unleashing a waterfall of shivers to cascade down her neck.

Oh lordy. ‘You got me there, I’m sorry, I don’t think so, I don’t … ’

Now he was the one narrowing his eyes, staring like she was gone out, planting his hands on his hips. Definitely not happy.

‘Let's get this clear. I saved your life twice, and you’re refusing me a date? Don’t even think about it.’ Chocolate voice like an incendiary now.

It was her turn to be chilled as a cool thing. Icey. Decided.

‘I was planning to make you a thank-you batch of cookies.’ She watched his expression slide from disbelieving to incredulous. ‘I’m very sorry, but my life-plan doesn’t include dates. I’m aiming for total independence.’ Despite it being the truth, out loud it sounded ridiculous. But she couldn’t be independent and have dates. Dates robbed you of your independence on every level.

‘Excuse me? I’m talking about going out for an hour, not moving in!’

‘Whatever.’ She shrugged. This was not negotiable.

‘Jeez, if you can dance around to Santa Baby all morning, you can damn well fit in an hour with me tonight.’ Sounded pretty non-negotiable too.

But she’d got in first, and he knew that. Which was why he was backing away now, retreating. Heading out of the yard, his long legs swinging. Only as he got to the gate, did he turn his broad shoulders, and his even broader grin shone towards her like a beacon. He was laughing, she could see that now, and his dark voice bounced at her, off the gravel.

‘Pick you up at seven.’

***

Rolling up at Millie’s that evening five minutes early, Ed found the door open, so he knocked and went on in.

‘Anyone here?’ With a sweeping glance he took in a long room, open to the rafters, more like a gallery than a home. Passed a work table at one end, smothered in clippings, a sofa, and lots of lacey things in piles. Lots of stuff not in piles. ‘Millie?’

He hoped she hadn’t gone AWOL. Just his luck to hit on a date-phobic woman for this damned challenge. But having got one date under his belt, he wasn’t going to give up that easily.

His gaze stopped abruptly at a multi-coloured line of satin corsets, hanging from a beam, laces dangling. Okay. Whatever. Plenty of people had corsets hanging in their living rooms. Didn’t they?

And then he spied the pole – floor to ceiling, shiny chrome – and his face split into a grin the width of the sky.

Jeez. This had to be good. He’d calculated that tattoos and ragged hair would have maximum shock value for Cassie, but if Millie was a pole-dancer, that rated off the scale. Cassie really should have been more careful with her rules. Nice work. He’d landed on his feet here. Accidentally dating a stripper? Even if she was reluctant to date, from where he stood, this challenge suddenly couldn’t get any better. Let the fun begin.

And then Millie appeared, eyes wide, startled to see that he was already here, but covering well, making his pulse surge way more than it should.

‘Sorry I wasn’t expecting you.’

Except she was, judging by her girlie pumps, and mini dress. Large black and white spots. He stifled a grin. More jockey than race-horse, this one. She turned, and he gave one mental thumbs-up as he clocked a patch of exposed, perfectly tanned back, that made him want to whistle, and a large bow, that put him in mind of a present waiting to be opened.

‘Someone scrubs up well when they take their shorts off.’ He shot her a wink.

‘Ah, so wrong! I’d never go out without shorts.’ She winked back and flicked up her voluminous skirt, to give a flash of the shorts below.

So that told him! Time to try another opening line.