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mumbled, her fingers flying over the keypad on her cell. “I just need to remind the other dance teacher about the stack of billing statements that—”
    He slipped the phone out of Pollyanna’s little hands, pocketing it when she reached out to grab it back, loving how her lips went plump as she frowned.
    Sweet and stubborn. The perfect pairing.
    “I can see I’m working with a first timer here.” She sent him an amused look. “That’s okay,” he said. “I’m an excellent teacher.”
    Placing his hand a little lower on her back than was polite, to test the waters, he nudged her through the doorway. Trey took in a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of aged oak and cherry tobacco mixing with the rawhide of the barstools. One sniff and all of the tension he’d been carrying since last night’s sorriest-excuse-for-a-guy’s-night-ever evaporated.
    For Trey, this place felt more like home than anywhere he’d ever been.
    “Then teach away,” she said, sending him a sidelong glance.
    “Rule number two, no talk of business or family. What’s the point of playing hooky if all you talk about is what you’re trying to escape?”
    Their footsteps echoed across the expanse of the room that lay in front of them as he led her toward the tasting bar. He patted the stool on the far end and, when she hopped up, he slipped behind the bar.
    “Right,” she nodded seriously, and he had to fight back a smile. “No contact. No talk of family, work, or problems.” She paused, then looked across the bar at him, those big hazel eyes so confused he wanted to kiss her. “Then what do we talk about?”
    “How about we start with preferences. Red or white?” he said, pulling out two bottles of their special reserve from behind the counter. “And I promise not to embarrass you by sharing that I’ve had a thing for ballerinas ever since Judith Carr danced the Sugar Plum Fairy at our fifth-grade talent show.” She laughed and he felt it in his chest. “I swear, it’s something about the short skirts and tight buns.”
    “I’m wearing my hair down,” she explained.
    He smiled. “I wasn’t talking about your hair.”
    Sara flushed an adorable pink, but tried to hide it by studiously examining the wine bottles he’d selected. With her distracted, Trey took his time to studiously examine her every curve.
    He hadn’t been kidding with the ballerina thing that she was rocking. If the ass-hugging leggings didn’t do it for him, then that sheer, white skirt she had on did. And yeah, he was a guy, so ignoring the creamy swells that peeked over the lacy edge of her little top, or the way her body reacted to the chill in the room was impossible. So he didn’t even bother to try.
    “Today is about adventure, right?” She sat up straight, all proper and prim, and folded her hands on the bar top. “So surprise me.”
    Only fair, since she kept surprising him. The other night when she’d crashed into his life, she’d come off as sweet and sunny and, if he were being honest, a little frazzled. Today though, in Stan’s shop, he’d really looked at her. Looked past the smile, past the wide eyes and smattering of freckles, and past the good face that she was putting on for the world, and damn if that didn’t do something to his chest.
    “I say it is a day to go bold, live loud, and since we are limited on fun time…” he said and went to work. Reaching for five globed glasses from behind the bar, he lined them up in front of her. “Let’s start with our house Zinfandel, move our way through the medium-bodied wines, and end with a glass of our reserve Cabernet. How does that sound?”
    He poured a generous tasting of the Zin into the first glass and slid it her way. “Since this is my first time playing hooky and wine tasting I will leave the choices to you.” She wrapped her elegant fingers around the stem, took a dainty sniff that made her nose crinkle, before pressing the rim of the glass to her mouth and taking a