The afternoon Turner spent with Brian had been illuminating as well as costly. He had never known men's apparel could be so pricy. His new wardrobe was not extensive. The minimum required, according to Brian. Two pairs of slacks, four dress shirts, two jackets and two pairs of shoes, cost more than all of Turner's lifelong clothing purchases put together. After that, he hadn't blinked when paying a few hundred bucks for the cologne and other miscellaneous items that Brian had insisted on, like socks and underwear.

As the two of them argued vehemently over every additional item, the stuck-up salesclerks at the store had smiled indulgently, probably assuming that they were witnessing a lovers' quarrel.

Brian had thought it was hilarious, and played the part, making Turner even more uncomfortable.

Was it worth it?

Turner wasn't sure.

The clothes he was wearing fit him well and looked better than any he had ever worn, and yet they did nothing to make him feel more up to the task of making Bridget fall for him.

In fact, the opposite was true.

He was a confident man who didn't need to boost his own ego with superfluous things like insanely expensive clothing, or fancy cars, or any other external symbols of wealth.

His wealth and his value were in his brain, and Bridget was a smart enough woman to realize that.

Still, it would've been unwise to dismiss the advice of someone who knew how to play the game of seduction better than the vast majority of men. Especially since everything else he'd taught Turner during that afternoon was invaluable.

Like how to appear interested but not overzealous. How to look a woman in the eyes while listening intently to everything she had to say. How to initiate little touches to let her know he found her attractive but nothing that could be interpreted as inappropriate or presumptuous. Nothing but a kiss on the cheek at the end of the first date, not even if it was obvious that she would not have minded ending it in bed.

The advice seemed old-fashioned and outdated, but Brian had insisted that this approach, while combined with a show of super-confidence and wealth, was guaranteed to ensnare the most slippery of fish. It seemed that nowadays playing hard to get worked for men as well as it had for women in the past.

"A predator doesn't appreciate an easy catch," Brian had told him. "Let her work for it, and she will crave you more."

Dishonest? To an extent.

Manipulative? For sure.

Did it feel right? Not at all.

When he arrived at the lobby of Bridget's building, he stopped by the guard. "Could you please tell Doctor Bridget that Turner is here?"

It was quite ironic that after all the effort he'd gone to, he still didn't know basic things like her last name.

The security guard exchanged a few words with her before ending the call. "Doctor Bridget said to wait for her. She will be down shortly."

"Thank you."

Not a good sign. Turner wanted to see Bridget's personal space. A lot could be learned about a person from their living environment. But apparently, she didn't trust him enough to invite him to her apartment.

Though why would she fear it, puzzled him. She knew he needed her and wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his chances. Besides, from what Kian had told him at the very start, immortals were physically stronger than humans, which meant that Bridget had nothing to fear from a human male, even a well-trained one.

As he had done the other time, Turner waited by the lobby's front window, looking out. A reflection provided him with a good enough view of the guard station and whoever they buzzed in or out.

That was how he got his first glimpse of Bridget as she strode through the glass door the guard had opened for her. If he thought she was a ten before, he was mistaken. She was off the charts.

With her red hair spilling in soft curls around her shoulders, her curves encased in a clingy dress that had large black and red print on a white background, and her small feet in a pair of red spiky shoes that made her legs seem to go forever, Bridget looked like a goddess.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around and walked toward her. "You look stunning." He leaned and kissed her cheek, kicking things off by breaking Brian's rules of engagement before even saying hello.

If Bridget was surprised by the kiss, she didn't show it. As a redhead, she probably blushed easily, but his little show of intimacy apparently didn't leave an impression.

She took a step back and gave him a thorough once over. "You certainly clean up nicely. I like your new style.”

"How do you know it's new? Maybe I dress like this for all my dates.”

"Do you?"

"No."

She smiled, looking satisfied. "I'm glad you made an effort for me. It evens the playing field. I felt like a fool for buying a new dress for our date."

Her admission reduced the weight of the brick in his gut. But the difference was that she was being honest, and her motives were straightforward, while he was trying to manipulate her into approving his request to attempt transition.

"It's a very pretty dress, but it would have done nothing for any other woman." He glanced down at her feet. "Sexy shoes."

For some reason, that comment brought a flush to Bridget's cheeks. "They are not new. I’ve got compliments on them before."

There was a story there that Turner was not interested in hearing. The thought of another man complimenting those red shoes bothered him.

It shouldn't have.

Turner wasn't a jealous man. To feel jealousy, he first needed to care for a woman, to feel possessive of her, which of course he didn't.

With a hand on the small of her back, he led Bridget toward the exit, where the valet was holding his car idling. "We have a reservation for six-thirty. I hope you like Italian. If you don't, we can eat somewhere else."

"I love Italian. Give me a creamy pasta and a salad and I'm happy."

He chuckled. "You're easy to please."

She cast him a sidelong glance. "I am. I have simple needs."

"For some reason, I doubt it."

The glass doors slid open, letting in a gust of warm air that blew through Bridget's hair, making it form a halo around her face.

Stunning woman.

The valet opened the door to his black Tesla—the one possession Brian had happily approved of. Turner's apartment, although luxurious, had gotten a head shake and a comment about its lack of personality.

The guy had forbidden Turner to bring Bridget over until that was fixed, which was probably going to cost him another small fortune.

Turner didn't care. He could afford it, and getting Bridget to approve his transition was worth every expense.