Benny gazed at the delicate curve of her lips on the rim of her glass and leaned forward. “Are you kidding? I can’t wait for dance lesson number two. How does tomorrow afternoon sound?”

“Whatever you say. After all, you are the one in charge of fun.” Claudia put her glass down and folded her arms on the tabletop.

“Consider me your personal fun coach.”

She smiled, flashing her dimples. “I’ll be sure to add that one to the list.”

Oh, hell. This ought to be good. He quirked an eyebrow.

“You know, the list.” Claudia raised her hand in the shape of a ball. “One, you swim like a fish, good enough to get a scholarship at Georgia Tech. Two, you glide across the dance floor like one of those ballroom dancers on TV.”

Benny shifted his feet beneath the table, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Three, you’ve published at least a half dozen articles in leading technology journals.”

“To be fair, I co-authored them. With Clay.”

She smiled, raising the next finger, undeterred. “Four, the Sweet Georgia Magnolia blog named you a top twenty bachelor. And five, you’re clearly the master of fun.” She fanned her open palm in the air and tossed her hair behind her shoulders. The sparkle in her eyes left him light-headed, mesmerized. “Dare I ask, is there anything Benny O’Brien can’t do?”

© 2022 Ann M. Trader