“So, how was the tennis lesson?” Michael asked, a smirk on his face. He raised the glass of iced tea to his lips and watched Gina narrow her eyes over the rim. Oh, how he loved getting her all riled up. Now, if he could do that in her boudoir he’d be all set.
“I should smack you upside the head for setting me up with that fruitcake,” she shouted.
“Didn’t he fix your backhand?”
She glowered and put down her empty glass making the ice clink within it. “Be the ball, he told me. Be the ball! Who says that except for new age gurus?” she said, exasperated. “I wanted to be the racket just to beat him with it.”
Michael spit out his iced tea in a fit of laughter. “I was hoping you would. I thought you’d have fun doing it,” he said. “You need some fun, Babe.”
“Don’t do me any favors, Michael, or I might just kill you and save myself trouble.”