Page 19 of Good at Being Bad (Rock Canyon, Idaho 8)

It was true. Only a couple of men in their forties sporting ball caps and farmer’s tans were in the place.

“You’ve got ten minutes,” Eric said.

“That’s all I need.” She slid into the booth across from him with a grin. “That’s what she said, am I right?”

Mike burst out laughing. “Did you just make a dirty joke?”

“Hey, it broke the ice.”

“I guess it did,” he said.

“Great, now that we have that out of the way, let’s get down to the nitty-gritty.” She gave him a once over, and he pulled at the collar of his plaid shirt. “We need to give you a less…stiff image.”

“I look stiff?” He’d gone home to clean up before coming.

“Let’s see. You’re wearing khakis that actually appear to be ironed, a button-down shirt with a collar so crisp I’m confident it will never lose its shape, and your shoes are shinier that my lip gloss.” She pursed her lips as if to give him a better look. “Stiff. You look like a math tutor.”

He’d thought changing into fresh clothes would be seen as a good thing. “I’m guessing that’s bad.”

“Very. Women do not want uptight nerds, although nerds are hot if they are presented the right way.”

Mike couldn’t remember anyone, besides maybe Gracie, calling him a nerd since high school.

“So, how do you make a nerd look cool?” he asked.

“First off, keep these”—she pulled his glasses from his pocket—“on your face.”

“My glasses? Seriously?” He’d had Lasik surgery years ago, and used them only for working and reading.

“Deadly.” She leaned over the table and slipped them over the bridge of his nose, pushing them up with her finger. This close, his gaze wandered over her thick eyelashes, smooth cheeks, and back to those shiny lips.

“Next, don’t slick down your hair. Leave it messy, maybe with a little gel in it. Your hair is just the right length that when it’s a little tousled, women want to run their fingers through it.”

“You can’t know that—”

“Yes, I can. Because I did.”

That gave him pause. “You did?”

“Yeah. Earlier when you kept running your fingers through it and messing it up. All I could think about was getting my hands in your hair and fixing it.”

He grinned, thinking if she was a friend, he would be teasing her about thinking he was sexy.

As if she could read her thoughts, she groaned, “Oh, for God’s sake, let’s not make a big deal out of it. You’re a hot guy. Own it and play it to your best advantage. Even if a woman can’t stand you, she might still hate-fuck you if you work it just right.”

A bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it. “I don’t think I’ve ever hate-fucked anyone.”

“You should. Angry sex can be way hot.”

Damn, he kind of liked that she spoke her mind without seeming to care if he judged her or not. In fact, he found her openness…sexy.

Ah hell, now I’m thinking about angry sex with her.

Trying to get back on track, he cleared his throat. “Okay, so I’m wearing the glasses and looking like I just rolled out of bed. What else?”

“Hmm, I’m going to have to inspect your closet, but I think we’re going to need to go shopping.”

He grimaced. He hated shopping.