The Playboy's Proposal (The Sorensen Family 3)

“If you think it might help.” Her brows drew together in vexation again, and he chuckled. “Okay, I’m not saying you have to do all this. But—I’m not proud to admit this—all men, even the best of us, are still little boys underneath. We want to be assured that a woman likes us. Finds us irresistible. But it’s a fine line. You want to be interested but not an easy conquest.”

“I’ve lost half my brain cells just listening to all of this.” She set her plate down.

“Just give it a try. Also, lick your lips a lot. You have great lips. You want to draw his attention to them. Make him want to kiss you.”

“All those years in medical school, and now I’m resigned to licking my lips to elicit his interest. Great.”

“You’re forgetting the bigger picture. These are just little tricks, small steps you can take to initially capture his interest. His attention. Once Luke’s looking at you with more than clinical interest and more actual bona fide sexual interest, then it’s up to you to keep his attention. Engage him in any debate or whatever burning medical question you two might want. Just be sure that when it’s all over he still wants to slip his tongue down your throat.”

She wadded up her napkin and threw it at him. “You’re disgusting.”

He grinned. “But I know what I’m talking about.”

She studied him now, picking up her wineglass. “Yeah, because you’re kind of a slut. I’ve seen the women parading in and out of your place. Always a different woman for a different night. Don’t you ever want more? You know, something actually long lasting?”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s what we’re built for. Humans. To forge relationships, find that person you want to spend forever with.”

“You really believe that forever is possible? Well, look at you,” he said, settling back in his chair, kicking his legs up on the coffee table between them. “I had you pegged as a cynic, not a closet romantic.”

“I’m hardly a romantic, but I do think—no, I know—that you can find someone and make it work. Make something wonderful together.”

“I’ll have to take your word for that.” He thought about his mother, who had been on husband number seven when she died. He didn’t remember his dad really being with anyone after the divorce. And his sister? She’d been in and out of relationships since she was in high school, barely taking the time to marry Ella’s dad before they both called it quits and moved on. He knew from experience that as much as people like Benny wanted to believe in forever, it just wasn’t realistic.

“You’re forgetting what I do. I know people. I base my career on tantalizing the average consumer, who thinks they’re happy with what they have, into wanting the newest and brightest. People who think they’re content with that reliable and even still attractive 2015 SUV, until they see the newest model, with the newest bells and whistles. Then they’re trading that SUV in and moving up. Same with cell phones, furniture, even a favorite coffee flavor. Anyone can be hooked by something new. Trust me.”

“You’re even worse than I thought. But you’re wrong. I’ve seen it myself. My parents have been happily married for nearly forty years. And they’re not together because they’re used to each other or they’re afraid to be alone, like you’re probably about to argue. They’re together because they love each other and are devoted to each other and know the only one who can make them happy is the other. My brothers are the same way. Both are married to amazing women, and I can assure you, they’re not looking to trade up. They have the only one they’ll ever want.”

It was cute how naive she was.

But to each his own. He shrugged. “If you say so. But for me, I don’t have any expectations going into anything. I’ll enjoy someone’s company, their attention for as long as it lasts, knowing that eventually we’ll both be ready to move on. No hurt feelings. No unreasonable expectations.”

“And on that note, I’m heading home. I have an early morning.” She stood up and headed for the door.

Henry suppressed the tiniest twinge of disappointment at losing her company, even if he was probably ten minutes past the time he should have left to meet the barista. But it had been fun to rile Benny up, to see her eyes flare with disgust and disbelief.

“I’ll reach out to my hairdresser and see if we can get you in tomorrow.” She looked like she was about to argue, and he held his hands up. “I know you think everything I’ve told you is a bunch of BS, but as you agreed, we’ll try things my way. See if I know what I’m talking about.”

“I can’t wait.”

“I know.” He smiled and watched her walk down the hallway, still shaking her head and probably muttering a few more choice words at the superficiality of it all.

And he’d agree. It was superficial. But people were superficial. He should know.

Chapter Seven

Benny thought of a million excuses to get out of tonight’s torture as she drove to the address Henry had texted her earlier today.

An actual freaking makeover? The last time she’d succumbed to anything similar she’d been in junior high, and Daisy had bribed her to sit still while she practiced her hand at applying eyeliner, thinking for about two weeks that she wanted to go into cosmetology before the next great career prospect popped into her mind.

It was a good thing Daisy had found something else to work toward, because a cosmetologist she was not. When Benny had looked at herself, her eyebrows plucked to near slivers, black eyeliner that made her look like a raccoon rather than a woman—let alone an attractive woman—and the brightest orangeish lipstick her sister could find, an actual scream had ripped from her throat.

Needless to say, tweezers had never passed within a foot of Benny’s face since that day.

The women leaving the salon looked like they’d posed for the cover of some fashion magazine, their hair swishing around them. Benny’s own hair was too thick and coarse to swish, and she’d accepted that long ago.

She sat in her car another minute, deciding whether a date with Luke Seeley was worth the agony she was bound to endure over the next hour. Then she thought of Henry’s smug smile, knowing that she’d been too afraid to go through with it.