How to Win a Guy in 10 Dates

Contents

Jane Linfoot

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

About HarperImpulse

Copyright

About the Publisher

Jane Linfoot

I write fun, flirty fiction with feisty heroines and a bit of an edge. Writing romance is cool because I get to wear pretty shoes instead of wellies. I live in a mountain kingdom in Derbyshire, where my family and pets are kind enough to ignore the domestic chaos. Happily, we’re in walking distance of a supermarket. I love hearts, flowers, happy endings, all things vintage, most things French. When I’m not on Facebook and can’t find an excuse for shopping, I’ll be walking or gardening. On days when I want to be really scared, I ride a tandem.

For Phil

CHAPTER ONE

‘SO, how’s things?’

Ed Mitchum turned to see his sister, Cassie, swirling towards him across the lawn. She dropped a fizzing glass into his hand as she came to a halt beside him.

‘Mineral water?’ He surveyed the floating lemon slice with distaste, took in her inscrutable nod, and snatched a glass of champagne in his other hand from a passing waiter, before she had time to protest. ‘Much as I appreciate your concern for my well-being, your assumption that it’s fine to interfere in my life-choices is getting damned annoying. You’re in danger of taking the bossy sister thing too far.’

She spun a dazzling smile up at him and tossed her sea of platinum curls over one shoulder. ‘Okay, keep your hair on! I just don’t think it’s appropriate for you to drink yourself under the table at the Olds’ anniversary party, that’s all. I’d hoped you’d bring Sophie today. Couldn’t she make it?’

‘Sophie .… ?’ Ed racked his brains, and failed to come up with a face to fit the name.

‘As in dark, gorgeous, legs the length of Park Lane – pretty much surgically attached to you at the Carlton’s tennis and Pimms do?’

‘Ahhh, her. Ancient history, I’m afraid.’ Cassie’s incensed expression only served to spur him on. ‘Keep up! There’s been several since – what was she called again? Not that the women or my alcohol consumption have anything to do with you.’

Cassie let out an infuriated sigh. ‘It’s only because we care, isn’t it Will?’

She tilted her head, appealing to his best friend Will, who had just arrived at her elbow, and was wilting visibly under the full glare of her sudden smile.

‘Leave Will out of this.’ Ed grimaced as Will’s scowl over Cassie’s head reminded him of the animosity between his best friend and his seriously annoying younger sister. Cassie had taken great pleasure in driving Will to distraction since the first day Ed had brought him home, aged eleven. Twenty years of torment later, they were still sparking off each other… not in a good way.

‘It’s time you grew up if you ask me.’ Cassie smirked at him. ‘And I’m not just talking about your drinking habits. Seriously Ed, you’re pushing thirty two. Isn’t it time you were settling down?’

An over-bearing sister who thought she knew it all. When in reality the woman hadn’t got the first idea. Settling down was the last thing on his mind, although now she’d mentioned coupling, a party pick-up was no bad idea. On the lookout for a likely candidate, he scanned the neat lawns as far as the distant walls of his parents Derbyshire castle until his gaze snagged on a glossy brunette with a perfect bob, whose sheer sheath of a dress was split to the hip.

Cassie was onto him in a nano-second. ‘Pointless looking there, Ed, that’s Uncle Henry’s latest wife. I know he never keeps them long, but this one’s new enough to make it through to the end of the party.’

‘I wouldn’t bank on it.’ Ed sent her a sardonic smile. ‘Not if the way she’s eyeing up the blonde Adonis waiter is anything to go by. She practically licked him as he passed.’

Will posted him a lazy wink. ‘For a man who specialises in blowing things up, you’ve been remarkably quiet lately. How is your love life these days? Bed still like a conveyor belt?’

Ed shrugged. ‘Can’t complain. Turn-over’s still satisfyingly high.’

‘Well I’m sure you’re going to make plenty of noise with your firework display this evening. You get some points back for doing that.’ Cassie’s face softened to a smile, before she whirled on him again, piercing him with her sky-blue eyes. ‘So why don’t you keep any these women of yours?’

For a fleeting moment he shrank under the ferocity of her scrutiny. Then remembering it was none of her damned business anyway, he relaxed.

‘If you must know, when it comes to it, they never hold my interest. One night and I’ve seen all they have to offer. Two max. Then I’m all ready for the next.’

‘Perhaps you’re dating the wrong kind of woman.’ Cassie said.

‘Meaning?’

Ed saw Will narrow his eyes at Cassie, warning her. With Cassie in full force a guy needed his wingman.

‘I’m not backing off here, Will.’ She sounded fierce. ‘Ed’s always surrounded by women, hoards of them. All desperate to jump onto his love conveyor-belt, all desperate to be the one who gets to hang on in there. But let’s face it, you are a great looking guy with an even greater personality when you want to be, but those women have got their eye on the contents of your wallet more than on your personal attributes. And their desperation to get their hooks into you, and gain access to your billions must make them much more compliant than they otherwise might be. And in my book, compliant equals boring. Be honest Ed, when did you last date a woman who challenged you?’

Ed opened his mouth to answer then shut it again when he couldn’t remember an instance.

‘These polished, high maintenance females, solely attracted to your bank-balance, can’t give you more than one night of distraction. It’s obvious.’

‘You talk about it as if I even give a damn.’ He shot her a pointed grin. ‘I don’t. I’m happy with things as they are.’

‘You tell him Will. You’re his oldest friend after all.’

Cassie appealing to Will? Again? Twice in the course of two minutes.

‘She might have a point.’ Will’s tone was measured. He threw in a conciliatory qualifier. ‘Maybe.’

Now that was an unlikely alliance.

Ed swallowed his distaste. ‘How you two have both survived a decade of serial monogamy without dying of boredom is beyond me, but seeing as you are setting yourselves up as experts here, what do you suggest?’

He hesitated, waited for their responses, which weren’t as immediate as he’d expected, and seized on their silence. ‘There, not so easy is it?’

Cassie tapped her teeth with one crimson nail as she thought. ‘This isn’t something we can rush. It’s too important for that. For starters, I’m thinking you need to choose someone who has no idea you have money. And you need to see her more than twice – give yourself a chance to get to know her properly.’

Ed squirmed. ‘I think I liked you better when you were telling me not to drink so much.’

Will chimed in, ‘Think of it as a challenge. We can add in some motivators, obviously.’

Motivators? Just like Will to know how to make him bite.

‘I haven’t agreed to this.’ It was important to protest, but as soon as Ed heard the word ‘challenge’, he knew he was in. It would shut them up and get them off his back once and for all. Then afterwards the only person he had to please was himself.

Will rubbed his hands. ‘So, down to business. Let’s say ten dates?’ He wrinkled his forehead as he thought. ‘To include at least two nights away – the wonders of the mini-break and all that.’

‘Ten?’ Ed felt his jaw drop.

‘If you’re going to do it, you may as well do it properly.’ Cassie flapped her hands in excited anticipation.

‘And you mustn’t reveal how much you’re worth .… ’ Will added.

‘Or use luxury props or enticements.’ Cassie said quickly. ‘And no sex on the first date.’

Ed shook his head in protest. ‘Hang on; I draw the line at that.’

‘Fine, whatever, but if you’ve got any sense you’ll keep to that anyway.’ Cassie grinned at him. ‘Even if you don’t meet the love of your life with this, you might improve your dating habits. Though frankly they don’t sound like they could get any worse.’

‘Don’t be so sure. I always practise safe sex.’ He flashed her a smirk.

‘There will have to be sex at some stage, or it won’t count either.’ Cassie was quickly getting carried away. ‘And we need to meet her on one of the dates, and it would be good for you to meet her family too.’

‘No pressure there then?’ Ed raised his eyebrows. This was in danger of getting out of hand. ‘So before Cassie adds in any more clauses, what about the carrot, Will? What are you offering?’

‘It’ll have to be good. What do I have that you’ve always coveted? My first-edition Definitely, Maybe album? Yours, if you complete the challenge, regardless of the outcome?’

‘You know you can do better than that, Will.’

‘Okay. Throw in the ski lodge in Klosters too, if you must. It’d be good to know it’s in safe hands with you. Might make you take a holiday at last.’

‘Great, you’re on. And the stick will be that if I fail to complete, I’ll give you my Jarvis Cocker signed T-shirt.’

‘Add in your Edinburgh town house, and we have a deal. I fancy the idea of wearing a kilt.’

‘Fair enough. Though there’s no risk you’ll be getting it – I’ll manage ten dates with my eyes closed. And one last thing… A measure of how confident I am that this whole stunt will ultimately fail.’ Ed swayed back on his heels, and locked eyes with Will. ‘If I find a woman I fall in love with, I’m ready to gift you my vintage Aston Martin.’

‘But come on, you’d never give that up!’ Cassie looked shocked.

‘Exactly!’ His face split into the widest smile. ‘There’s absolutely no danger that I’m going to have to!’

***

‘All set?’

A bright Monday morning, one month later, Ed kicked a foot in the dust as he waited. Digging his hands into his pockets, he stared around the quarry, wondering when he became so removed from the place where he’d had his first taste of the explosions – a taste that had turned into a lifetime obsession. He’d promised the quarry Manager, Blake he’d be here today, when they’d met up at his parents’ party, and he didn’t like to let Blake down. Not after everything Blake had done for him, in those bad old days when Ed was fourteen and a hell-raiser.

‘Ready to go.’ Blake gave him a nod. ‘Jeans and tee okay for you? Sorry, but they’re the best I could muster from the lads. This is Derbyshire, not London, remember.’

‘My fault I ripped the sump of the car then proceeded to smear the contents all over myself. I’ll take what I can get.’ Ed gave a rueful grin, as he looked down at the indecently tight jeans complete with rips, and the saggy, beyond-hope t-shirt someone had donated to his cause. He exhaled deeply, as he glanced at his shiny sports car, waiting for the recovery vehicle by the gate. He, of all people, should have known better. Would have known better if he’d been half-way concentrating, instead of raging because a month into this Dating Challenge, he still hadn’t found a suitable woman. Damn his sister and her determination to make sure the whole world paired up into happy couples. If he hadn’t been fuming about the Coupledom Challenge, instead of looking out for ruts in the ground, he’d still have a working car. He’d have to make do with the quarry Land Rover until a replacement arrived.

‘I feel like we should be smashing bottles of champagne against the cliffs, given all the effort we’ve put into getting the permissions to extend the quarry. I guess we’ll have just have to make do with the big bang instead,’ Ed said, a grin of anticipation playing on his lips. ‘Whenever you’re ready.’

However many explosions he saw, he never tired of the thrill of a good blast. Ten years in the boardroom and yet the warning siren’s wail still sent prickles across the back of his neck as he trained his eyes on the rock face. Then in the split second before the blast, a rider on a horse cut across the skyline, up behind the blast area.

What the hell? There shouldn’t be anyone up there!

Then the boom of the blast smacked against his body, and he heard the echoing thud as the rock-face collapsed. But Ed wasn’t watching the falling rock. Because above it, the horse was jack-knifing into the air. Against the backdrop of the perfect blue sky Ed watched transfixed, as the horse and rider separated, and the rider tumbled downwards, out of view. Then the dust rose, in billowing rolls over the rock-pile, and just before the dust haze turned the blue sky grey, he saw the rider less horse galloping against the horizon.

‘There’s a problem in the field up there! Damned stupid riders.’ Ed hurled himself in the direction of the Land Rover, grinding his teeth on grit.

Within seconds he was roaring towards the quarry gate, powered by a whole mountain of wrath. He was still cursing, minutes later, up in the field, as he jumped down beside the casualty.

A girl. And the fact she’d left her riding hat on the gatepost suggested she had no brains to protect. A blonde, albeit a dirty one. Spread-eagled on the grass. In tiny shorts, and with curvy, honeyed legs, that sent crackles up his spine and made him remind himself he shouldn’t be noticing.

His eye snagged on the tendrils of a tattoo that emerged from the top of her boot.

‘Can you hear me?' The anger drained from him as he waited for her reply. He made the words clear. ‘I’m Ed, I’m here to help. What’s your name?’ He was going through the routine now, and she damned well wasn’t responding. No chance of ringing for an ambulance either, the way the signal was here.

She was very still, face to the sky, blanched beneath her freckled tan. He shivered as he saw blood on the grass, already matting in the tangled strands of her hair, his heart banging, as his training kicked in.

Airways, breathing, circulation.

Bearing in mind not to move her spine, he squatted beside her, and grasped her wrist, wincing at the tightness of his on-loan jeans. Tried not to notice that she smelled of flowers. Vanilla. Warmth. Woman.

Nothing. Damn. He was always crap at finding a pulse. He dragged her hair aside, tried again. This time two fingers under her jaw found firm flesh, slightly clammy, but still no pulse.

He put his cheek to her slightly parted lips. Waited a second to see if she was breathing.

Nothing.

Ninety nine percent sure she was just unconscious, her lack of pulse was down to his lousy technique at locating it, and not because she was dead. But what the hell should he do now? He couldn’t just stand here and do nothing. He stood up, ran his eyes down the length of her, his brain struggling to remember his first aid training. Whether to go for her chest first, where one top button had pulled undone, and, let’s be honest, he might never find a breastbone. Or her mouth.

It was never like this on the first-aid dummies.

He was on his knees now, sizing up lips that were lush, soft, parted, but altogether easier than the alternative. He needed to damn well get on with it before he ran out of time.

Focusing on the graze of mud on her cheek, he nipped her nostrils, grasped her chin. He drew in one long breath through his nose, clamped his mouth over hers and psyched himself up to blow.

Wallop!

One arm flopped up and clamped the back of his head. Then her other landed square on his back.

What the hell?

Her tongue feathered his for a moment, and then came in for the kill, as his already thumping heart exploded in his chest. He fought to pull away but she had him in a head lock, exploring, tangling with him. Drawing him in.

Salty. Gritty. Entirely off limits. And then, in sheer relief that she was alive, he was kissing her back, an ocean-rush of blood hammering in his ears, his whole body on adrenalin-surge, endorphin-pumping, red-alert. Hotter than he could say. Knowing it was out and out wrong, hearing the gentle moans in her throat, but nothing he could do.

Except go with it.

***

Millie Brown was drifting, and dreaming, a thing she tried her best not to do. Even in her sleep, she liked to stay in control, and largely she managed to keep her sleeping mind a blank. But something odd had happened, and she was plunging headlong into a full-on sexy-scenario dream she was powerless to stop.

Right now, a guy with a voice like dark chocolate, was capturing her mouth, and tasting delicious. Cappuccino and hot, raw man. Definitely not love-rat-of-the-decade ex, Josh, then. Who she definitely was over, wasn’t she? No, this was a guy who could really kiss. Talk about tongues and technique. Two years without a snog, but she still knew a high quality kiss when it hit her. And he was ramping it up. In for the kill, and boy, she was happy to die and fast-forward to heaven. Heaven was definitely where she’d arrived, as she shifted beneath him, heard herself moan in the distance, aching for more amazing. Even the sting of his stubble on her chin was delectable. Could almost be .…

Real?

Slowly, she slid her fingers through the strands of his hair, traced them across the alarmingly tangible thrust of his cheekbone, and brought her palm to rest on a rough jaw that sent tingles up her arm. Horribly real tingles.

She opened her eyes. Blinked. Blinked again.

Awwww crap! Her stomach squelched, and her heart did one huge squeeze, then started to hammer, as the very real man who was kissing her tore his face away from hers.

She put a hand to her mouth. Found the hottest kiss ever had morphed into a gaping chasm. And as her eyes finally pulled into focus she heard that chocolate voice again.

‘Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty!’

Millie struggled to catch her breath.

‘Pleased to see you’re not dead then.’ He’d shot backwards, and was towering over her now, face like a storm cloud. ‘And I think we can safely say your arms aren’t broken, given the strength of your grip on my neck.’

Millie rubbed a hand across her bottom lip, tried to make sense of what she was doing here, and gawped at the vision of glorious manhood before her. Dark, choppy hair, jeans like a second skin that underlined the solid power of the guy. Dusty work boots that hollered rough and ready. A ragged t-shirt that screamed don’t-give-a-damn, or up-for-anything, she wasn’t sure which. And this is what she’d woken up snogging? If ever there was sex on legs, this had to be it.

‘What just happened?’ She clasped a palm to her throbbing skull as she tried to piece together fragments of how she got here. ‘I was riding up the hill in the field … ’

Exercising Cracker, the pony. Thinking how her legs were so tanned they looked like they weren’t hers, how she wouldn’t need the tanning salon this year, how that was the only good thing about living in the country.

‘And I was humming ‘Leave your hat on’ … ’ Going through the Burlesque routine she’d been working on earlier this morning, for her up-coming workshop. Singing the tune. Trying to plan out the next bit of the sequence in her head as she rode. ‘Then there was this bang.’

The pony surging beneath her in panic, the ground whizzing towards her, the slam of her skull as it whacked into the ground. She definitely remembered that.

‘Humming ‘Leave your hat on’? Ironic choice then.’ He gave a snort. ‘We were blasting in the quarry, and your horse took off. I assume you fell and hit your head. You were out cold when I found you.’

‘So what was that back there, the kiss of life?’ She fixed him with a fierce stare, which dwindled as she relived how darned amazing he’d tasted. And smelled. Still did. She caught a waft of him on the breeze, and fought a sudden desire to seize his leg and bury her face in it.

His mouth twisted into a wry line. ‘Something like that.’

‘Don’t you know it’s wrong to take advantage in situations like this?’ She pushed herself up on her elbows, hurled the accusation at him, and winced at the pain which split through her head.

‘Hang on! Let’s get this straight. You were the one who got me in a headlock as you came around.’ He stood his ground, indignant and glowering. ‘I began resuscitation when I couldn’t find a pulse and you didn’t appear to be breathing, then what do I know, you’ve jumped me! Apologies for trying to save your life. Next time I won’t bother.’ He made a dive for his Land Rover.

She’d been the one snogging the socks off him?

So that was what two years giving guys a wide berth did to you. Made you into a sex fiend when you were unconscious. Her body shuddered, shriveling in a giant cringe of embarrassment. She pushed herself up to sit and another spear of pain crashed through her skull.

‘Let me see your head. You shouldn’t have been here on a horse you know, it’s private land, and it’s not a bridleway.’ He’d come back from the Land Rover with bandages, a ready-made lecture, and a double dose of bad mood. At least that covered her shame. He was leaning behind her now sounding seriously snappy as he prodded in her hair.

‘You’ve got a nasty gash, probably hit a stone, but the bleeding’s not too bad. Hold this dressing whilst I fix it. One head injury, which would have been avoided had your riding hat been protecting you, not the gatepost.’

Short tempered. Snarky. Not attractive. Except he was. Devastatingly.

‘Ouch, there’s no need to manhandle me!’

And rough too, as he crashed the bandage into place, taking control. Making her spine zither like crazy. Though he did have a point about her hat. Leaving it on the gatepost was one bad decision.

‘You need to go to casualty.’

‘No way!’ Casualty was the last place on earth she wanted to go.

‘I’ll run you there, or you can wait for an ambulance. Your choice. Whichever way, hospital is where you’re going.’ He backed away, stood like a dictator, legs splayed, practically bursting out of that faded denim in every area that mattered.

So, she may have a head injury, she may be dying of embarrassment, but she couldn’t let this power-house of a guy take over.

‘I can’t go anywhere until I’ve sorted the pony out. It’s my job to look after him, and my house depends on my job, and if I lose my house it’ll blow my whole life-plan out of the water.’ She hugged her knees tight, instantly regretting the personal information spill. Luckily he seemed oblivious.

‘For crying out loud! The pony’s up there, in the corner of the field, grazing, looking a darned sight better than you. I’ll get Blake from the quarry to sort him out. He knows about ponies.’

Now for the biggie. She screwed herself up to force it out. ‘But I don’t do hospitals … ’

One small voice protest she might as well not have made, judging by his sneer.