The Playboy's Proposal (The Sorensen Family 3)

Pulling her tongue back into her mouth, she tried the same swing in what felt like exactly the same motion. By the tugging of Henry’s lips, she was going to assume she hadn’t quite duplicated the movement. Henry repeated his instruction and directed her to make some adjustments in the grip before he swung again.

She greedily eyed his form while he was preoccupied. Marvelous.

When she realized he was waiting for her, she repeated his motion.

“Maybe we should practice with the ball.” He grabbed a couple and placed them on the tees in front of them before winding back again, the swooshing hypnotic, this time followed by the short cracking sound of the iron hitting the ball as it sailed up into the air and landed on the stretch of grass ahead of them.

At least, she was certain it had landed somewhere over there, since she was still watching Henry, his torso turned to the side and his arms flexed as he gripped the club, making it hard to miss the bulge of his biceps. His profile clean and striking,

his lips parted as he watched the landing.

How did he get his hair to stay like that yet still look so touchably soft?

He turned toward her, and Benny tried to divert her eyes so he wouldn’t know she’d been slobbering over him. She reminded herself that Henry Ellison was a self-absorbed ladies’ man who was only helping her out to help himself—nothing more.

But when he smiled, telling her to give it a shot, that reminder went out the window.

She looked down at the end of her club as he continued to coach her. “Practice swinging, feeling the back-and-forth in your hips before you try and connect. The key is, when you’re about to hit the ball, keep your eye on the spot where you want it to go.”

Blah, blah, blah.

She practiced swinging, feeling silly as she did so, knowing Henry had to be watching her ginormous hips move back and forth as instructed.

“Good. Now, find your target and…”

She swung and waited to hear the same crack as the club connected with the ball. Only her swing continued forward, no cracking sound followed, and she nearly lost her balance, having to take a step forward to catch herself.

She’d completely missed.

Heat filled her face, and she cast an embarrassed glance at Henry. “Not bad. I have yet to see a beginner ever connect on the first try. Let’s go again.”

Only nine swings later, other than hitting and tearing up the grassy area around the ball, she’d been unsuccessful. She shot him a frustrated look, blowing back a strand of hair that kept falling to her mouth. “I suck at this.”

“The problem is in your lineup. Here.” Henry walked behind her, and before she could even catch her breath, she felt his hands on her hips. She nearly shot out of her skin from his touch. “Easy,” he said somewhere near her ear before his arms went around her and his hands rested over hers on the golf club. “I’m just trying to show you the motion, the way you want your body to flow as you hit.”

Her body was flowing, all right. Her whole freaking body was buzzing from having him so near her, surrounding her. He smelled…good. Clean. Masculine. Goose bumps prickled along her arms.

Was this even appropriate in public? She looked up, her eyes wild, to see if everyone was staring at them in horror, but no one was even glancing their way.

Steady there, Benny. He’s just showing you a swing. Nothing more.

Do not turn around, though, whatever you do.

She exhaled slowly and worked to take in another breath.

It was unnaturally quiet, and she realized that Henry was no longer talking or trying to move. Birds chirped from somewhere overhead, but she was paralyzed from moving or looking up.

Henry cleared his throat and shifted behind her, his arms dropping away from her. “Okay, let’s try again.”

She raised the club, her heart beating a trillion beats a second and brought it down, swinging through just as Henry taught her. Like before, she missed the ball and stumbled forward, trying to save herself on the follow through. Only this time, she did make contact with something.

From the oomph from behind her and the ball still perched on the tee at her feet, she knew it wasn’t the contact she’d wanted.

She turned around to find Henry holding his head, his face in a grimace.

She’d clobbered him.

“Oh my gosh, Henry! I am so sorry!” She dropped the club and rushed forward, horrified by her actions. “Please. Let me look at it.”