The Playboy's Proposal (Sorensen Family)(16)

"Henry," someone called from one of the tables, and he looked over to see Mark and Jonathan, two club members he'd played golf with on occasion, now standing up and heading their way.

"Good to see you. Jonathan and I were just wondering if we were going to catch you this weekend since we missed you last week," Mark said as they reached him.

"Had some family stuff to attend to, but thought I'd get some time in today." Both men, however, weren't really listening to what he'd said and were instead staring at his golf buddy. "Mark, Jonathan, this is my friend Dr. Benny Sorensen."

Each man offered his hand, smiling a little too widely at Benny, who was smiling back just as readily, unaware of these guys' track records.

"Are you two playing in pairs today?" Mark asked. "Because it's just the two of us, if you wanted to make it a foursome."

"Sorry, fellows. Benny is something of a novice. I'm going to show her a little more about the game before we actually tee off."   





 

"I'm afraid it's true. I'm what you might call a golf virgin," Benny said in a playful tone that had Henry's mouth dropping open. "Never even held an iron-is that the right word?-before."

"You know," Jonathan said, eyes still on Benny, "if you're trying to pick up the game, you could do a lot better than taking tips from Ellison here."

"I probably could. But you know how Henry is. His fragile ego needs to be built up a bit at times."

"Ah, yes. That's me. Needing to hear the endless cries of gratitude and appreciation that you, for one, are so quick to give."

Benny grinned back at him, and for a moment they stared at each other, his mind reeling at how the stodgy, reserved doctor had suddenly become so adept at flirting.

And doing it well.

And he wasn't sure he liked it. At least not when it was trained on someone other than him.

 

"Well, we tee off in an hour if you two decide to have a go at it," said the shorter brown-haired guy, whom Henry had introduced as Mark.

Benny had almost forgotten they were both there for a minute, caught up in staring into Henry's eyes. Which was pure insanity.

She did a mental headshake and was about to respond when Henry cut in, a little more curt than necessary. "We'll certainly keep that in mind."

Sure to smile, she waved good-bye and followed Henry outside the clubhouse.

Minutes before, on entering the fancy clubhouse already teeming with people-particularly women, who were eyeing Henry like he was the only glass of water on a hot summer day-Benny'd felt out of place and expected someone to ask her for proof of why she was even there. Spending the day at a country club, let alone on a golf course, was the last thing she'd ever seen herself doing.

The county pool and community center were more her thing.

But Henry's friends had helped ease that discomfort. She had almost surprised herself with the flirty, sexually tinged comments that spewed so easily from her mouth. Comments she thought would have earned more amusement and encouragement from Henry. Instead he'd looked stunned and then  annoyed.

They reached the driving range, and she took a moment to take in the million-dollar view of the Wasatch Mountains, the clubhouse and pool, and the tranquil pond in the distance. The air felt unnaturally clear and sharp this morning, crisp in anticipation of the heat to come.

Henry pulled out a club from the smaller bag, handed it to her, and took another club from his own bag. "You're going to want to hold the club like this." He held his hands in front of them then curled one hand around the end of the club, waiting for her to repeat it, before gripping the other side. Then he raised it and did a practice swing, the air swooshing as he brought the club through.

Man, she hated golf, but the artful way Henry swung that thing was  kind of hot.

"Try it," he said, thankfully ignorant of her less-than-chaste thoughts.

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."

"It's nothing. Just a bump on the head," he said, trying to assure her and took a step back, only his footing was unsteady and he stumbled. Before he could fall, she jumped toward him and anchored his weight against her, wrapping her arm around his waist.

"You're not all right. You could have a concussion. We need to get you inside so I can examine you."

He smiled a little too widely. "If you wanted to see me naked, Doc, all you had to do was ask."

She laughed, unable to resist. "Try to keep it PG, big guy. I think I hit you harder than I realized."

While they walked back across the grass toward the clubhouse, Benny tried to ignore the fact that Henry's upper torso was toned and deliciously sculpted as she supported him, not an ounce of flab or anything extra to hold onto. Just sinewy strength. Combined with the heady aroma of eau d'Henry, it took every bit of her resistance not to attack him right there.

He was injured, for crying out loud. She was a doctor. And she was head over heels in love with Luke Seeley. She had to get a hold of herself.

Back in the clubhouse, she sat him down on a chair and knelt down in front of him to try and get a better idea of his injury. A guy in a green polo with the clubhouse name on it was there in a flash. "Mr. Ellison, is everything all right?"