Page 12 of Making Over Maris

With a strangled “eep” he dove in after it, dug it out, refolded it and tucked it back into his wallet. It had never worked but it was all he had. He needed it.

She glared at him. And then for some reason she softened. “Women are not an empirical science, Jack.” She gestured to his wallet. “We’re not all alike. There is no ‘one size fits all’ approach to winning someone’s heart.”

Yeah. He got that. “But you need to have a standard operating procedure—”

“No, ya don’t.” She blew out a breath. He loved the way it made her bangs flutter up. “Don’t you see? This kind of thing comes off as cheesy. Planned. Practiced.”

“And that’s…bad?” How could planning and practice be bad?

“Women don’t want to feel like they’re an insect being dissected or analyzed. They don’t want to be one option in a sea of possibilities. They want to be special. They want a guy who responds to them on an instinctual level. A guy who is so interested, he can’t help but be charming. Not a guy who has to be reminded to be seductive—by an SOP.”

He shook his head. This was all so…alien. “I don’t get it.”

She buried her face in her hands. “No. You don’t. That’s the point. Oh Jack, I’m going to need a couple days to think about this.”

His pulse stuttered. “But you already promised…”

“No. I’ll do it. I did promise to do it. I just need to think about how to do it.”

He relaxed. Okay. Okay. Okay. It would be okay. “Thank you, Sara.”

“Yeah.” Her cell phone buzzed and she picked it up to check the screen. Her lips tightened and she set it back down. “No prob.”

Damn. Why did she seem so dispirited? He’d seen the tears on her cheeks when he interrupted her meeting with Kat. He’d hated her tears. Hated even more that he didn’t have any right to wipe them away.

“Sara.” He waited until she met his gaze. “Thank you.”

This meant everything to him. More than she could ever know.

“Sure, Jack. Give me a couple days to think about this.”

“Sure.”

She stared at him for a minute and then said in a very small voice, “You can go now.”

Right. He could go. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to fold her in his arms and hold her and make whatever was making her sad disappear.

He didn’t have that right either.

And he never would.

But for the next few months, he’d have her attention.

And that would be worth a thousand trips to Paris.