Sitting at his desk in his office, or the lair as his staff called it, Turner wasn't working; he was reading a silly romance novel that made him question the sanity of humanity's fairer sex.

What a load of crap. One thing was for sure. Even though it was the latest bestseller, he was not going to learn how to make Bridget fall for him by reading it.

With a sigh, he closed the tab on the computer, logged out from the site, and leaned back in his chair.

The doctor who held his future in her hands was into him, an advantage he wasn't going to waste. The thing was, he needed her to want him for more than casual sex. If Bridget developed romantic feelings for him, she might be more inclined to grant him his wish.

It was a calculated risk. As opposed to logic, it was difficult to predict how emotions influenced decision-making.

There was the possibility that she'd refuse to approve his induction because she would not want to risk his premature death. On the other hand, as an immortal, she would want an immortal partner. He was counting on Bridget's pragmatic nature to win over her heart, making her realize that the second option was the only one that made sense.

In either case, he had to win her over first, which was easier said than done.

Turner's track record with women wasn't good. He hardly ever initiated contact because he simply didn't know how. Many found him physically attractive, and he responded to those sending clear signals, or those who were as bold as Bridget and took the initiative.

He rarely saw them again.

On the job, Turner could fake emotions when needed, but he refused to do so in his private life.

Until now.

Too much was riding on Bridget's decision for him to allow his dubious honor to interfere. At least he wouldn't need to fake attraction or interest—she evoked plenty of both. But women wanted more than that, they wanted sweet talk and romance, and he had none of that to give.

The most Turner could feel for another was respect and appreciation. He was incapable of love. The flip side was that he didn't hate either, even though he'd encountered enough scum who deserved it. His emotions didn't burn hot enough, they were only a dim echo of what he imagined others felt.

Bottom line, Turner lacked the necessary skills to make Bridget fall in love with him. His acting skills were up to the task, but he needed a script, and unfortunately, the romance novel had fallen short. Perhaps it was good enough for young, naive girls, but not for a woman like Bridget.

Fortunately, the novel was just a backup plan. Plan A was to have a true master teach him the ways of seduction.

Brian Chung, his social media analyst, and a true modern-day Casanova.

Before hiring him, when Turner had put Brian through his intensive vetting routine, he'd been astonished by the guy's female following. It wasn't just a long chain of hookups either, which was impressive in itself. Numerous ex-lovers were still pining for him, calling him, emailing him, and begging him to take them back.

Brian was handsome, with exotic features contributed by his half Chinese and half German mother, and his half Portuguese and half Korean father. But Turner had a feeling that Brian's success was more about his style and technique than his magnetic sexual appeal.

Which was fortunate. Provided the guy was willing to teach, Turner could learn.

On his way out, he stopped by his secretary's desk. "I'll be back in about an hour. Anything you need from me before I go?"

Alice shook her head. "Have a nice lunch, boss."

"You too." He glanced at the wrapped sandwich and thermos Alice had brought from home. Putting her two sons through college was a financial burden the military widow was shouldering alone, and it wasn't easy even though Turner paid her well—significantly more than the norm for the type of work she did. It wasn't philanthropy. Her loyalty and his trust in her were not something one could put a price tag on. She was worth every penny and more.

Most of his staff was comprised of freelancers like Brian, but other than the media specialist and Charlotte the hacker, Turner didn't trust the rest with the location of his offices.

Not today, though. They were meeting at Brian's favorite restaurant for lunch. A more fitting environment for what Turner wanted to talk about.

As was his habit, Brian arrived a few minutes late. Not late enough to be considered rude, but not so early as to appear eager. Turner had no doubt everything the guy did was intentional.

"How are you doing, boss?" Brian offered his hand.

Turner shook it. "Very well, and you?"

"Life is good," the guy answered while scoping the place for potential prey.

Turner chuckled. "Always on the prowl, aren't you?"

Brian sat down and opened the menu. "Naturally. If I don't cast the net, how am I going to attract the best catch?"

It was a wonder the analyst managed to get any work done. It seemed as if his entire focus was dedicated to the hunt, or fishing, as he referred to the chase.

"I need you to teach me how you do it."

Brian put the menu down. "Do what?"

"Charm the pants off women."

"A particular woman or women in general?"

"Is there a difference?"

The guy's smirk was condescending. "It's like saying that every operation you plan is exactly like the other. There are similarities, of course, but you would be a fool to employ the same tactics without taking into account the particular situation. Same with women. Each one is a unique individual and requires a custom-tailored approach."

It made sense, but the complexity of the subject was discouraging. "How would I know what works for whom?"

"First, you need to decide on your objective. Do you want to get her in your bed? Or do you want more?"

Brian was a smart guy, translating the complicated subject of relationships into terms Turner was familiar with.

"I need her to fall in love with me, or at least to care deeply."

"How soon do you need to achieve that objective?"

"Two weeks or less."

The guy nodded. "Tough, but not impossible. How old is she?"

"In her mid to late thirties." Bridget was probably much older, but the age range he'd given Brian was a decent approximation of her level of maturity.

"On a scale of one to ten, how hot is she?"

"Ten."

Brian sighed in exasperation. "Let me be more specific. It doesn't matter if she is a ten to you. It matters what the rest of the male population would rate her as. That determines the level of your competition. Women who are rated ten have so many men chasing after them that they develop a bitchy attitude as a shield against all that unwanted attention. Getting past their immediate prejudgment is difficult. Two weeks would not do for a woman like that. It requires a long and sophisticated approach."

"How should I know what other men think?"

Brian looked like he was losing his patience but trying very hard not to show it. "Okay. Is she more like Jessica Alba or Gal Gadot?"

"Jessica Alba."

"Is she more like Scarlet Johansson or Megan Fox?"

"I don't know who Megan Fox is, but the lady in question looks a little like Scarlet Johansson. She is short, curvy, has flaming red hair and blue, intelligent eyes."

Brian nodded. "Good, so she is not the tall, thin, model type everyone and his dog chases. What about her level of education?"

"She is a medical doctor."

That answer seemed to excite Brian the most. "Very good. You have a much better chance with an intelligent woman. If you dazzle her with your smarts, she might overlook your lack of charm."

That was true. Bridget seemed most interested in what he had to say, but he'd also caught her checking out his body. Her interest wasn't platonic.

"So what is your advice, master Casanova?"

Brian chuckled. "First, we start with your wardrobe, your cologne, and the like. Normally I would suggest a professional hairstylist, or in your case an expert toupee maker, but I assume she already saw you. Right?"

Turner nodded.

"Not a big deal. It looks good on you. Besides, many women find bald men sexy."

Turner smoothed his hand over his bald head. "That's good to hear. But what's wrong with my wardrobe? And why would a mature, well-educated woman care about what I wear?"

The analyst shook his head. "Turner, my man, you might be a brilliant strategist, but you know nothing about female psychology."

"Tell me about it. I made the mistake of reading a romance novel in hopes of gaining a better understanding of what women want. It was such an unrealistic load of crap."

The condescending smirk was back. "Naturally. Romance novels are fantasies—exciting, titillating, arousing. Most women know that and don't expect or want to reenact any of it in real life. I love to read about dangerous, alluring women like spies and assassins, but if I met one today, I would probably walk away as fast as I could."

Again, the guy was making sense. Brian had a good understanding of human nature which Turner lacked. More specifically female nature. Turner had a good grasp on the military and criminal types, but not on much more than that.

"Back to my wardrobe. What do you think I should change?"

Brian looked at Turner's jacket with obvious distaste. "Where did you get that thing?"

"At the Men's Warehouse."

"Obviously." The guy grimaced. "I'll take you clothes shopping at Neiman Marcus. You need clothes that are classy, understated, elegant, and most importantly expensive. Same for the cologne."

"I don't think a doctor would be impressed with how much my jacket costs."

"No, she won't. But men are judged mainly by how successful they are. Expensive, tasteful clothing advertises your success without flaunting it. You want the equivalent of a Mercedes or a Tesla, but not a Ferrari or a Porsche. What you're wearing now is the equivalent of a Honda minivan."

"I get it. Are you free this afternoon? I'm not expecting you to do any of this out of the goodness of your heart. I will gladly pay for your services, but I need it done fast. I'm meeting her tomorrow. "

The analyst smiled. "Brian's university is going to cost you, but I don't want money. An IOU for a future favor would do."

"I need you to define it. I'm not giving blind IOUs."

"I didn't expect you to. I want your promise that if ever I or any of my family members needs rescuing you'll do it."

A rescue operation, even a simple one, was costly, took a lot of time and effort to plan, and often put the lives of others at risk. It was a high price to demand for the services Brian was providing him with. On the other hand, Turner wouldn't have refused help even if he didn't owe the guy anything. He would have probably asked for a future IOU same as the analyst had.

"It's a deal."

They shook on it.

"Between now and tomorrow, there is a lot I need to teach you. I'll better start now."

"I thought you did."

"That was just about the props. From now until we part this evening, we will pretend that I'm your date." Brian batted his long eyelashes and reached for Turner's hand with a coy smile lifting his thick lips.

Turner snapped his hand back and took a nervous glance around. "Are you nuts? People will think we are a couple."

"Tsk, tsk. That's the idea. We are in Los Angeles, boss, we can be a couple if we want to." Putting his hand on the table, palm up, Brian batted his eyelashes again. "Holding hands is a sign of affection, my friend."