“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.”
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