How to Win the Dating War. Aimee Carson
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is built on spark, pure and simple. And you can’t communicate your way around the lack of it.”
She’d had plenty of experience with a man who lacked the ability to engage in earnest dialogue. The spark starved without it, and though she’d done everything in her power to prevent the death of her marriage, a small part of her—the part that had failed—could never be made right.
Gloom weighed down her heart, and she folded her arms across her chest to ease the load.
Think positive, Jessica. We learn from our mistakes and move on. Don’t let Mr. Cynical bring you down.
“Sparks are sustained by emotional and intellectual attraction,” she said. “And both are much more important than the physical one.”
His eyebrows pulled together in doubt. “What’s that have to do with an online flirting fiesta between virtual strangers?”
Jessica inhaled slowly and quietly blew out a breath, regaining control. She’d gotten off track. Convincing him of her views wasn’t important. All she needed was for him to follow through on his initial agreement. If he backed out now, the fundraiser would fail before it even started. Hundreds of fans would be disappointed. And then Steve would kill her, because signing Cutter on had been her idea. Steve had thought the retired driver was a risky proposition, but Jessica had always been impressed with Cutter’s magnetic, if a little unconventional, charm on TV.
Apparently he was really good at faking it when money was involved.
Lovely to be finding that out now.
“Forget that I think the basic concept is flawed,” Cutter said, interrupting her thoughts. “We still have several problems. First, I don’t know a thing about social networking.”
Feeling encouraged, she said, “I can teach you.”
“Second, I don’t have time for all this online interaction stuff.”
“You can do it anywhere, even while standing in line at the grocery store. It takes five seconds to text a question to the contestants. Maybe ten to respond to their answer.”
“I don’t text.”
Stunned, Jessica stared at him. “How does anyone inhabiting the twenty-first century not text?”
He headed for a bar made of dark mahogany and glossy black marble along the far wall. “Sunshine, I do all my interacting with women live and in the flesh.” He lifted a bottle of chardonnay from the rack, removed the cork and set the wine on the counter, meeting her gaze. “If I want to ask her out, I speak to her in person. If I’m going to be late for a date, I call her on the phone.” He pulled a beer from the refrigerator, twisted off the cap with a hissing pop, and shot her a skeptical look. “I do not spend 24/7 with a cellular attached to my hand so that I can inform my friends via Twitter that I’m leaving for the store to buy a six pack of beer.” He flipped the cap with his fingers, and it hit the garbage can with a ping.
She bit back a smile. “That’s good, because I doubt anyone is interested in those kinds of details.” She wasn’t sure whether she was making headway with him. After a pause, she pulled down a wineglass from the hanging rack over the marble counter and poured herself some chardonnay. She sat at the bar and sent him a measured look. “Cutter, I’m not asking you to provide the public with a banal running commentary on every detail of your life.”
Beer in hand, Cutter rounded the counter and climbed onto the stool beside her, planting his elbows on the bar. “So my search for just the right toilet paper isn’t relevant.”
Jessica couldn’t help herself. She smiled. “No.”
He swiveled in his seat to face her. “What about those annoying little emoticons?” A faint frown appeared. “Smiley faces aren’t my style.”
“I’ve noticed. And the double smiley faces are definitely out. Though there is one for a devilish grin that would work really well for you.”
“I could do a devilish grin.” He demonstrated one on his face.
She subdued the laugh that threatened to surface. “LOLs and exclamation points aren’t a requirement either.”
“What about using all caps?”
“Caps are for amateurs.”
He leaned forward a touch. “What if I have something important to do? Like turning a woman’s head with my sparkling wit and personality? Wouldn’t I want to capitalize the word beautiful when I compliment her on her looks?”
The intensity in his eyes made it clear he was talking about her. A low burn started, but she ignored it. “Forget the looks. You’d win more points complimenting her on her sense of humor. And a sophisticated texter doesn’t need the caps button.” She tipped her head. “He leaves a woman weak in the knees with just the right words.”
The hint of a smile appeared on his face. “A real man leaves a woman weak in the knees with just the right look.”
Absolutely. Which was why it was a good thing she was sitting down. Because he was sending out some potent, powerful vibes. She was almost tempted to be charmed. She took a fortifying sip of crisp, dry wine, eyeing him warily over her glass.
“I’ll agree to go through with this if you lend me a hand in the beginning,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“We get together and you share my texting responsibilities.”
She coughed on her wine, the words sputtering out in a squeak. “You want me to flirt with other women for you?”
“Just help me out until I get going.”
“Absolutely not.” She turned to face him in her seat. “You have to do your own flirting.”
“Why? I’m not marrying any of them. I’m not even agreeing to date them. All I’m promising is one lousy dinner in the name of a good cause.”
“Because it’s … because it’s …” as her mouth grappled to catch up with her brain, Jessica’s mind scrambled for the right word. Sacrilegious sounded melodramatic. Rude he clearly wouldn’t care about. At a loss, she set her glass down with a clink. “Because it’s unromantic, not to mention unethical. You cannot outsource your flirting.”
He tipped his head in disbelief. “Jessica, we’re not talking about destroying our local economy.”
“You’re the Wildcard,” she said levelly. “Women elude security and pick locks to climb into your bed. I’m sure you’re more than qualified to handle a little internet flirting with several women at the same time.”
Unimpressed by her attempts at flattery, Cutter said, “I’ve never had to flirt with a woman online in my life.” He gave a small shrug. “It’s either have some help to get me started or I won’t do it.”
Jessica propped her elbows on the counter and covered her eyes with her palms. Cutter Thompson was frustrating and cynical. But she’d promised Steve.
She owed Steve.
He might not have been the love of her life as she’d once hoped, but he’d helped her find her passion. The great gift of career satisfaction. She loved her work. It defined her. And, despite their divorce, Steve had been a big part of that discovery. And his advice during her fledgling business years had been invaluable.
She wouldn’t be the success she was today with his support.
“Fine.” She dropped her hands to the counter and turned her head to meet Cutter’s gaze. “But here are the rules. Once you get the hang of it, I’m done. And no one can know I’m helping you. They have to believe that everything comes from you or the whole thing crumbles in a heap of shame. Maintaining the integrity of the event is my top priority.”
The expression on his face promised nothing.