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her back. “I thoroughly enjoyed the evening, but we’re opponents more than you think.”
    Stunned to find herself behind the wheel, she gazed up at him. “What do you mean?”
    â€œIt’s simple, my lovely.” Still holding her hand, he lowered his dark head to kiss the back of her fingers before whispering, “I don’t want to win either.”
    Then with a wink and a wave, he sauntered away.

CHAPTER FOUR
    A S D ANI PREDICTED, by ten-thirty the next morning What A Woman Wants was crowded with women shopping, primping and lamenting the backward thinking of the Paradise Pines male population.
    The conversation had been building steam for a while when the blonde in Dani’s chair looked through the mirror at Dani and said, “I was just trying to say a museum wasn’t such a bad idea, that we’re always saying how the kids today are all into instant gratification. And if we stopped and talked about the past sometimes, it might slow them down a little and give them an appreciation of how we got to where we are today. And my husband says to me, don’t be stupid and I better not be voting for no museum.”
    Dani winced.
    â€œYeah.” The woman nodded, causing her hair to slip from between Dani’s fingers. “I showed him stupid this morning when I forgot to make his lunch.”
    â€œI know.” A woman at one of the nail stations spoke up. “It’s not like I expect my husband to votefor the museum, but I do expect to be allowed my own opinion.”
    The stylist next to Dani turned off the blow dryer she wielded to point it and declare. “That’s right. This is the twenty-first century, not the turn of the century. We earned the right to vote a long time ago.”
    â€œI think Blondie’s got the right idea,” Mrs. Day piped up. She’d pushed the bonnet dryer up so she could hear. “If we want to be heard, we need to hit the men where it hurts.”
    â€œYeah,” another voice chirped. “I bet he notices when his lunch is missing.”
    Dani had a bad feeling about where this was going.
    â€œWell, to be fair,” she interjected, “nobody is stopping any of us from voting.”
    â€œNo, but they’re trying to tell us how to vote. That’s just as bad.”
    â€œWorse, they’re trying to tell us how to think. If we let them get away with this, we’ll wipe out a hundred years’ worth of struggle for women’s rights.”
    â€œYeah. Paradise Pines will be the most backward town in the whole U.S.A.”
    â€œWe have to hit them where it hurts,” Mrs. Day suggested with a tad more vehemence than necessary. “No cooking and no cleaning. We’ll remind them what life was like in the dark ages of their bachelor days.”
    â€œLet’s do it. No cooking. No cleaning.” The women began to chant.
    Dani held up the curling iron in her hand, demanding silence. “If we’re going to do this, everyone has to participate or the impact will be lost. No wimping out.”
    Emphatic nods followed her decree and they went on to plan their attack.
    Now this was the fight Dani believed in. The museum and garden was a lovely thought but, for all practical purposes, doomed before they got started. Which didn’t mean it didn’t deserve a spot on the ballot. It was the insulting dismissal of their entire agenda that fueled the fight. The right to be heard, to be respected—yeah, this battle Dani would fight every time.
    Their methods may be archaic but then so was the men’s attitude. They said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. With any luck it was also the way to reach their hard heads.
    Â 
    In church on Sunday morning, Dani discovered a couple of the Sullivan men had lovely baritones. Cole wasn’t one of them. Did that stop him from singing? Of course not. And his flawed enthusiasm made his efforts more genuine. More